September 11, 2022 – Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 19)

Last week, we heard from Paul’s Epistle to Philemon. This week, we get an Epistle to Timothy, also written from “Paul.” We’re going to start with a short Bible lesson this week. Of the thirteen letters that were traditionally attributed to authorship by Paul, scholars now think that only seven are authentically his: Romans, 1 & 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Philippians, 1 Thessalonians, and Philemon. Ephesians, Colossians, and 2 Thessalonians are of questionable authorship. And 1 Timothy, 2 Timothy, and Titus are almost certainly not Paul’s writing. These three — 1 & 2 Timothy and Titus — are traditionally called the Pastoral epistles, as they provide “instruction how these companions of Paul should engage in their pastoral duties in their churches.”

Traditionally, the Epistles contain a salutation and then an expression of gratitude to God before the body of the letter. If you remember back to last week, Paul gives thanks for Philemon, expressing gratitude for his faithfulness, support, and exemplary behavior. (“When I remember you in my prayers, I always thank my God because I hear of your love for all the saints and your faith toward the Lord Jesus. I pray that the sharing of your faith may become effective when you perceive all the good that we may do for Christ. I have indeed received much joy and encouragement from your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, my brother.” Phlm 4-7) 

But listen to the reading we have today from 1 Timothy: “I am grateful to Christ Jesus our Lord, who has strengthened me, because he judged me faithful and appointed me to his service, even though I was formerly a blasphemer, a persecutor, and a man of violence” (1 Tm 1:12-13). Gratitude is offered for what Christ has done for Paul. And this gratitude is offered not to “my God” but to “Christ Jesus our Lord”. Even the Greek vocabulary behind these two passages differs. Paul’s usual style is to say, “I give thanks” (eucharistō), but the wording in 1 Timothy is “I am grateful” (literally “I have gratitude” charin echō).

So why do we read these letters that are attributed to the wrong person and for which we question authorship? The idea is that the four readings each Sunday fit together in some common theme. Last week, Mother Barbara teased out a theme that related to our relationship with God as a community and as individuals. So now I’m on the hook to tie today’s readings together. But I have it a bit easier, because this week, all four of our readings use some form of the word sin within them.

I’m going to start with the Epistle to Timothy. We pick up part way through chapter one, and we miss where he has talked about “fornicators” and “sodomites” (1 Tm 1:10). Sex and sin sell, but not in the church, and so we start at the next logical part. Paul is confessing his “bad” life and of how he persecuted Christians. In fact, tradition has him holding the coats of those in the mob who stoned poor Stephen (which we can read about in Acts 7). And yet we continue to re-elect those politicians who vote for war. We probably wouldn’t dare to hold the coats of people actively committing known sin, but our sins of omission are glaring. And the old saying goes “out of sight, out of mind”… what are we doing to help those on the other side of the globe who are targeted in recent genocides? Shame on us. (And the emphasis is on us, not on you.)

The “worst of sinners” line that Paul uses gets tiring, but like it or not, Paul’s past sin is central to his testimony and to what he is trying to teach us. He is emphasizing how far he fell, in order to illustrate how low a gracious God stoops to pick him up. This may feel a bit forced, but he is sticking to it. This is Paul. Or maybe not Paul, but it’s the lesson that Paul and his followers teach us.

His emphasis is echoed by the story that we hear from Exodus, where Aaron leads the people to create the golden calf which they place on the altar to honor the gods who have brought them out of the land of Egypt. “And the Lord changed his mind about the disaster that he planned to bring on his people” (Ex 32:14) when Moses told God “Turn from your fierce wrath; change your mind and do not bring disaster on your people” (Ex 32:12). There’s that stooping, gracious God again.

The Psalmist writes, “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy … cleanse me from my sin” (Ps 51:1-2). The Psalmist trusts in God’s abundant, ever present love and mercy to cleanse sin away and to create within her “a clean heart” and to renew her spirit. (Ps 51:10)

And then, we hear Luke’s account of Jesus welcoming sinners and eating with them and how the Pharisees complained about this.  I want to take a deeper dive on what I see happening in this passage. The “threat” to the religious insiders begins when the “tax collectors and sinners were coming near” (Lk 15:1). We can all easily feel displaced from our positions in our community when others come near; our power is diminished and we feel threatened. But Jesus retorts that those whom we seek are already near. They are in Jesus’ flock; they are as near to us as the sheep. They are in the house, as near as the coins in your hands. They are already near, so do not be threatened that Jesus shares a meal with them as he shares it with his friends. The intimacy of breaking bread is indeed a tangible act of the fact that they are already near. So how do we react when our nearness is threatened?

At the core of each of Jesus’ parables — the lost sheep, the lost coin (and the lost “prodigal” boy which follows) — is a story of searching and finding something. But what is that search for? The search is for something specific in each case: a wandering lamb, a lost coin, the son who had gone away and now has returned.

And listen to the rejoicing that happens at the end of each of these stories:

The Lost Sheep: Rejoice with me! I have found my lost sheep! And Jesus comments, “There will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who changes both heart and life than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need to change their hearts and lives” (7). 

The Lost Coin: Rejoice with me! I have found my lost coin! And Jesus says, “Joy breaks out in the presence of God’s angels over one sinner who changes both heart and life” (10).

The Lost Boy: Rejoice with me! I have found my lost son! We witness the most lavish and extravagant celebration yet: robes, rings, sandals, fatted calves, and a feast. And Jesus says, “Celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found” (32).

Our God will travel into the thicket to pull you out. Our God crawls into the hole you have dug for yourself and lifts you up and out. Our God searches the ends of the earth and makes a pathway for you to return home. This is all about God’s long, loving reach. God’s ability to swoop down to raise us up. God’s ability to search us out.

But what is it a search for? Is it a search to save us or a search to welcome us? These are very different things. We are often more comfortable with saving the lost than welcoming the lost. Saving is about power and is focused on the individual. Welcoming is about intimacy and is focused on the community.

We should all take time to think about our lives as individuals in community. Together we met in God, and together we are bound in Christ. We — who are all sinners and need the powerful support that we get from God — must search out the other sinners and welcome them into our community.  God rejoices when the religious insiders change their minds about who is “in” and who is “out”. The rejoicing happens when the community is complete, and there is no such category as the one and the ninety-nine. Our sins are forgiven always, but true repentance happens when our minds are changed so that we can no longer see a community as whole until all are included and none are “lost.”

Nadia Bolz-Weber, a Lutheran minister and public theologian, wrote in her book Pastrix: The Cranky, Beautiful Faith of a Sinner & Saint, “Grace isn’t about God creating humans and flawed beings and then acting all hurt when we inevitably fail and then stepping in like the hero to grant us grace–like saying, ‘Oh, it’s OK, I’ll be the good guy and forgive you.’ It’s God saying, ‘I love the world too much to let your sin define you and be the final word. I am a God who makes all things new.’” Friends, grace is about God saying to make our community whole so that all are included and none are lost. So who are we missing today?