September 11, 2016

Cate Thorn     

Ordinary 24     Jeremiah 4:11-12, 22-28       Luke 15:1-10

Video available on YouTube, Facebook

As some of you may know I’ve been out of the church circuit for about a year or so. In that time I discovered, perhaps not surprisingly, that the biblical text is not heard much outside the church context. It’s not much referred to, much less sought out as a reference, a source for gaining knowledge, a resource for negotiating the tangles of life – it’s got nothing on Google. As a person who’d stood at the front like this and proclaimed from it, proposed that it does contain wisdom, deep knowing, an overarching record through time of journey and struggle of people. One we can identify with, find inspiration, hope that indeed within it is good news that relates to REAL life. That the biblical text is largely absent from the life of the majority of the population gives me pause for thought, not just about the bible but about the religious enterprise, is it more substantial that the air we blow into it – is it more than just a human enterprise?

When preaching into a Christian context the biblical text is, more often than not, the beginning point. For one who aligns themselves with the Judeo-Christian lineage, scripture might be understood as a narrative, telling in myth and metaphor, history, poetry, prose, in letter and in law, of the experience of being human. The way humans have chosen in and through time to be, live, orient themselves in relation to one another, to creation and of course to God – for inherent to scripture is that creation is indwelt by God through whom all that is comes into being, without whom there is no life.

Assuming we assent to scripture as having unique influence, perhaps even authority for us, we might see it tracing or telling a sort of overarching story. As we allow it speak to us – to disturb, dismay or delight us – perhaps we find it echoes our experience of life. We join a through time story of human life in the world, in all its wonder and woe. It’s a curious narrative, one that’s out there, over against us, yet also close by, in here – in our hearts and beings.

Encountering the biblical text within church context again, returning from that outside place is a curious experience. It’s easy enough to speak inside the doors of things of faith, of bible and God. But if we say this scripture expresses more than just religious themes. If we think it says something about human potentiality – in all its glory and brokenness – that precedes and eludes the bounds of our Judeo-Christian communities and assert that the divine threads through all of life, indwells and imbues creation, without whom creation doesn’t come into being – then how is the knowing of this communicated, how is it heard, how does it sound in a world where the text is not known?

Do we need to know of God, consciously, I mean, do we need to know the story to be known by God? Does scripture, this strange tale of human/divine encounter apply to those outside the insider community? Now, perhaps this is irrelevant – it’s an insider text, only for those who are chosen, inaccessible to those not chosen. The problem I have is that I happen to believe in an inclusive God who desires relationship, who intended creation into being, who meant it, you and I to happen.

Scripture comes into being through the communities who inhabit it. For it to have integrity in meaning requires understanding and translation. Tempting as it may be to devolve such responsibility to academia we are not so absolved. John’s gospel opens with words familiar to us, read at David Braddock’s funeral this week, “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life and the life was the light of the world.” As followers of the Word made flesh we, albeit often stumblingly follow in the steps of Christ. We, in our time are to make the word flesh, bring into being the light of divine life in the world, translate the story of divine presence in ways that people may comprehend.

As we read, hear, inwardly digest today’s gospel I wonder how we might apply such idea – translate this into life, if you like. Today we might call this a gospel of foolishness and irresponsibility that makes no reasonable sense. Putting the whole flock at risk to look for one recalcitrant beastie, turning the house upside down for one coin them likely splurging more than you found on the party afterward, ridiculous. I have strong childhood memory of the image of Jesus bearing a lamb on his shoulders. It directs me to hear this story to be about Jesus finding and rescuing, seeking and finding, about a woman searching, cleaning and finding and then of celebration and joy. I know it’s always been there but for some reason this time I noticed more the cause for celebration “over one sinner who repents.” It’s not all about the shepherd or the housekeeper looking and finding, it’s also about being willing to be found and participate in relationship.

Many years ago I was at Lynn Mall, with my daughters, 3 and under a year. Despite what I thought was my close attention, in a moment my eldest daughter completely disappeared. I searched everywhere I’d been, went to every exit there was – and there are a surprising number when you’ve lost a littlie!! Panic stricken, with heart in mouth I eventually made my way to the Management office to confess I was one of those terrible mothers who mislaid their children and to ask for help. They were lovely, made contact with the security people in the Mall, after what seemed forever a tall, burly security man appeared bearing my blond haired, blue eyed missing daughter. Looking a little puzzled she declared, “Hi Mummy, this man told me I was lost.” She’d no idea she was lost, not until she was found, she’d been having a lovely time playing in the toyshop. Who decides what lost is and if you don’t know you are lost what is it to be found?

And there’s the rub, the foolishness of faith that proposes we’re intrinsically connected with the source of our creation. Creation was intended, we were intended into being before we knew anything of it even as we can have a knowing of this. It’s kind of hard to prove intellectually, made no more credible when further proposed that creation’s an expression of divine love, of a God who desires relationship with us. A God who, as in today’s gospel, seeks and searches, who desires relationship with each unique creation, already beloved, made whole in God. Yet it’s not a relationship forced upon us against our will. It is something always of our choosing.

Dr. Abraham Heschel, a Jewish academic theologian and author whose work I enjoy, even as it puzzles and unmasks me at times, writes, “More grave than Adam’s eating the forbidden fruit was his hiding from God after he had eaten it. “Where art thou? Where is man?” is the first question that occurs in the Bible. … It is man who hides, he suggests, who flees, who has an alibi. God is less rare than we think.” “Man was the first to hide from God … and is still hiding. The will of God is to be here …; but when the doors of this world are slammed on Him ... He withdraws, leaving man to himself. God did not depart by His own volition; He was expelled, God is in exile. … It is not God who is obscure. It is man who conceals Him. … He is waiting to be disclosed, to be admitted to our lives. Our task is to open our souls to Him, to let Him again enter our deeds. … Life is a hiding place for God. We are never asunder from Him who is in need of us." [1]

To align yourself within a religious lineage such as Christianity is a choice. The stories of the community of people gathered through time tell of divine encounter. Of a God who gifts us life and freedom to use that gift. Freedom even to exile God from our life, it is hard to imagine. In and through this life God seeks us, calls us, desires to meet and be met by us. That we are here in this place suggests that we, each in our own way, to greater or lesser degree, have opened our eyes and ears and hearts to God – are willing for God to be alive in us. How, other than through the lives of ordinary people like us, can the light of the life of the world be known? How, other than through willing and genuine encounter with the other, with each person we meet can the Word be made flesh, be translated into the world? It matters how we are and what we do. It is, of course, in us to conceal ourselves from God who sees us as we are but today we choose not to. We cannot make those who’ve exiled God do otherwise, God grants them such freedom. Their doing so diminishes the richness of God expressed in the world. It is a loss for us all yet the boldness of faith would claim, it cannot eliminate God whose hiding place is life.

[1] Abraham Joshua Heschel, Man is Not Alone: a Philosophy of Religion (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1951), p153, 154.