I've lost my keys....

September 15, 2019 * Luke 15:1-10

Today Jesus is shaking up the norms of the religious communities of his day, welcoming in tax collectors and sinners; not just welcoming them in, but eating with them, we are told.  This doesn’t seem so bad, does it?  I mean, to you and I, not really.  But, in the day and time this text was written, there were none lower, more outcast, or dirtier (in the eyes of the religious community).  These were people who not only failed to maintain the purity rituals, but they broke moral laws with wanton disregard. 

So we see the Pharisees and teachers weren’t really happy about the crowd Jesus is surrounded with; what’s worse, is he seems to be ok with his new friends.  We were told that he breaks bread with them!  Sharing a meal…a social act held in such high regard.  Does Jesus not realize that you are judged by the company you keep? 

In case you might have forgotten, we are still very aware of that.

The two parables in this morning’s text are unique to Luke, and these along with the parable of the “Prodigal Son”, make up the trilogy that is regarded as the “heart of the Lukan Gospel”.  Both of this morning’s parables, one from a male perspective and one from a female perspective, both deal with loosing something.

It almost seems like Jesus is giving some bad advice in a way, doesn’t it?  I mean, if you have 100 sheep, and you lose one, why would you leave the 99 to fend for themselves to go find the one?  Per Spock, that’s just not logical (the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few…or the one).  Or if you have $10, and you lose $1, why are you going to sacrifice an entire day and all that energy when you have $9 left?  In both of these instances, what does the one matter?

Well, have you ever lost something?  Well sure you have.  We all have.  Ever lost your cell phone?  I have…tons of times…and I’ll spend 20 minutes looking for my cell phone while I’m talking to someone on my cell phone.  Or your wallet?  That’s a nightmare!  Then there’s the loss of innocence, the loss of dignity, the loss of respect….  I can’t tell you how many pairs of sunglasses I’ve lost over the years.  A quick internet search revealed “kids” was in the top 10 list of things most commonly lost.  I’m personally bad at losing my patience, and this past Tuesday as I sat in traffic for 3 ½ hours I lost my ability to act in a manner we would call “pastoral”. 

Most of my days pretty smooth, without a hitch.  And then, some days, there’s a tear in the ticker-tape that is my life and the whole thing comes to a screeching halt.  I remember, in particular, a day a few months ago. 

I awoke like normal, had my breakfast, and planned my day out.  A meeting at 11, lunch with a friend at 12:30, and a doctor’s appointment at 2.  I wanted to run by the pet store and a few other places before my meeting, because when my day was over, I knew I’d want to just go home.  So, about 8, I get ready, and as I am walking out the door, I reach over to the decorative hook beside my door to grab my keys, except the hook is empty.  THE HOOK IS EMPTY.  Although this is the place for keys, this hook exists for the express purpose of having a spot to put keys, there are no keys here, even though this is where they should be.  Cue the sound of screeching brakes.

So I set my bag down and start digging through it.  There’s my iPad, my charger, there’s my wallet, there’s a rain poncho, there’s a bunch of receipts I need to throw away, there’s three open things of Ice Breakers Sours, there’s some Heinz ketchup packets (incase the restaurant stocks the off-brand)…but no keys.  I go to the shorts I wore yesterday; they’re not there.  I check the pants I have on today; they’re not there.  I look at Chloe and ask her if she has my keys; she tilts her head to the side and just stares back at me.  I look on my kitchen table, on the bar, on the coffee table, and then it hits me with the weight of the world:  I have lost my keys.

But on this morning I have lost more than my keys; I’ve lost my sense of perspective, because without my keys, there goes my plans, and with the loss of my plans, I lose my cool.  These instruments that I use for security and freedom, to lock out bad guys and to get where I need to go, have suddenly become a means of imprisonment.  I’m stuck.

Where could they be?  So I begin to go through my stages of searching for things that are lost:

1.      Logic:  I retrace my steps.  I look in all the places that make sense.  I breathe.  I try to remain rational and calm.  It’s not a big deal…they’ll turn up.

2.     Self-condemnation:  As I make my way from room to room, scanning shelves and surfaces, I begin to self-flagellate under my breath:  “I am such an idiot.  Where did I put those blasted keys?  Why am I such an idiot?”

3.     Vexation:  I’m frustrated.  I curse.  With each passing second my frustration is fading into anger.  I switch back and forth between blaming myself and something else (one of the better parts of living alone is there is literally no one else to blame).  I’m thinking to myself (or, truthfully, saying out loud) “God must know where my keys are; why isn’t God helping me?”  I’m in a full blown theological crisis over a 2 1/2 inch piece of plastic.

4.     Desperation:  Now I’m looking everywhere, even in places that don’t make sense.  My sock drawer.  The freezer.  Under the bed.  The freezer.  The silverware drawer.  In my instant pot.  I check the pockets of yesterday’s shorts 3 or 4 more times. 

5.     Last-ditch:  I stop, and I pray.  There are tears in my eyes.  I breathe.  I tell myself I’m being ridiculous.  I need to calm down.  I ask God to restore my perspective.  And I check the hook and sock drawer again.

6.     Despair:  I give up.  I plop down on the couch.  I’ll never find my keys.  The cause is hopeless, and I am hopeless.  I’ll be trapped here until the end of time, or until I shell out the money to replace my keys.  Outside the window I see the birds dancing around the feeder and the trees swaying with the gentle wind, but I will not notice.  Everything is worthless.  The morning is ruined.  Stupid keys.  Stupid me.  Stupid planet.  Stupid universe.

Then, a bit ashamed and a bit guilty about the way I just acted, I pull myself together and, beginning with step one, I repeat the process.  Seven minutes later, I find my keys.  Sitting on the tank of the toilet in the guest bath.  I literally have no idea how they got there.  With excitement and enthusiasm I yell “FOUND THEM!!!”  Cue the Hallelujah chorus.

So I move on with my day as quick as I can.  I skip the pet store and go straight to my meeting.  My lost keys ended up being a hiccup in the day, but at the time, it was the apocalypse. 

All this to hopefully bring some perspective to this morning’s parables.  We western thinking people tend to make the parable about “us”; we like to think that that one doesn’t matter, until the one is us, and then we want Jesus to go out and find us…we need Jesus to go out and find us.  And while Jesus does do that, and I don’t want to downgrade that by any means, this isn’t exactly what today’s Gospel Lesson is about. 

These paired parables go much deeper than what we see on the surface.  For starters, it isn’t clear who he is speaking to here:  the tax-collectors and sinners, or the Pharisees who were grumbling about the sinners and tax-collectors who had gathered around Jesus.  Why a sheep and a coin?  Why a man and a woman? 

These are the things we typically focus on, and the point of what we miss is exactly why we focus on them.  We are “me” focused”. We dwell on the first-person.  How does this impact me.  How does this change me.  How does this make me look?  How does this make me change?  When all along, the entire point of the message can be found in the two ending sentences of each parable, where the man and the woman each call up and gather together their friends and family and rejoice together over restoration.  Community, togetherness, connection; this is what we miss in this parable, and this is what we miss in life.

We are a people designed to crave a bond with each other.  Our addiction to social media affirms this theory.  We need each other.  As people, as friends, and as family, we aren’t created to be alone.  That doesn’t mean that we each have to be married, or partnered, because singleness is a Spiritual gift that some posses; but you aren’t supposed to be alone.  Study after study has proven that a solitary lifestyle can shorten your lifespan by 20% or more.  Even an introvert like myself needs time with other people. 

So are we a people who rejoices for others?  If I were to call you and tell you I found that $1 I lost, would you jump up and down with me, or when we hung up would you, wide-eyed, wonder what in the world that was about? 

This ability to connect is what these Pharisees and Scribes in today’s text have lost.  They’re no longer able to connect with others – or at least others that they deem “less” than themselves.  Instead of rejoicing that those on the margins of society found acceptance in a system designed to reject them, they grumble at their presence.  They publicly reject those who had come.  They deny themselves community, placing people in a hierarchy of value and worthiness.

So…are we much different than the Pharisees and Scribes here in Luke’s Gospel this morning?  Do we rejoice when the community grows?  Do we seek to draw the circle so wide that it gathers in every single person, or is it just wide enough to gather in those we want, leaving out those we’ve deemed “unworthy”.