by Lauren F. Winner
Gospel Reading: Luke 15:1–10
For Sunday, Sept. 15, 2013: Year C—Lectionary 24
The liturgical context in which I am reading this Gospel is not only our Christian calendar—nearing the tail end of this long stretch of ordinary time. I am also reading with the Jewish calendar in mind.
I write this lectionary reflection during the Ten Days of Awe, days in the Jewish calendar intensely devoted penance; and the Gospel will itself be read in church shortly after Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, a day of penitential fasting and prayer.
And maybe it is because of that second calendrical context that I find myself, as I ponder the woman and her lost coin, thinking about a sermon by Rabbi Maggie Wenig called “God is a Woman, And She is Growing Older.” On which, more in a moment.
How this Pericope is Usually Preached
I usually hear these parables preached as testimonies to God’s deep interest in finding even one person…
(Well, actually, it is usually the shepherd and sheep parable that is preached, not the woman and her coins. Commentators who notice how rarely we talk about the woman often use the word “sandwich.” To wit, Linda Mahoney’s wonderful observation: “Ordinarily, in Christian proclamation, the woman is just the filling in the ‘sandwich’ between the all-too-familiar story of the lost sheep and the long, interesting parable of the lost (‘prodigal’) son….At most the preacher says, ‘Isn’t that nice, Luke likes to pair stories of men and women, and here is another of those pairs , and now let’s talk about something interesting, like why the owner of the sheep would risk losing ninety-nine to go looking for just one.’” Or Verena Wright: “Sandwiched between the lost sheep and the prodigal son parables, [the parable of the woman and her coins] is marginal compared with those two, which…seem much more dominant in church discourse today.” And so on.)
…so let me rephrase: usually when I hear this lection preached, it is the shepherd and sheep imagery the preacher focuses on, and I hear in it (and in the woman and coins, if I think about that parable at all) testimonies to God’s deep interest in finding even one person.
I Hear Intimacy…and Sin
God will pour out everything in search of one human being. I hear intimacy in these parables, the same kind of intimacy that is sounded when we are told that God cares for the sparrows and numbers the hairs on our heads. Intimacy. Concern. Loving care for every single human being. Jesus sought me when a stranger, wandering from the fold of God. Love.
But reading this Gospel in the context of Psalm 51, and in the context of the Jewish calendar, I am struck by the clear language of repentance and sin. I think this might be the first time I have really noticed that language in this pericope.
I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.
In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.
Not, “in the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing over God’s wayfaring friend who came home, finally”—although that may mean more or less the same thing. The rejoicing is over a sinner, who has repented.
These parables are not just about God’s generic care. They are more specifically about sin and repentance.
“God Is a Woman and She Is Growing Older”
And all this puts me in mind of Rabbi Wenig’s High Holy Days sermon. It is a remarkable sermon. It imagines god as a grand-maternal figure who is waiting for her children and grandchildren to come visit her. “God is home, turning the pages of her book. ‘Come home,’ she wants to say to us, ‘Come home.’ But she won’t call. For she is afraid that we will say, ‘No.’ She can anticipate the conversation: ‘We are so busy. We’d love to see you but we just can’t come. Too much to do.’”
In addition to the somewhat surprising metaphor (perhaps no more or less surprising than imaging God as a woman searching for her coins) is the fact that although this is a sermon about repentance, about return to God, never (unless I’ve missed it) is the word ”repent” used.
The parable that is Rabbi Wenig’s sermon ends happily, hopefully. The prodigal makes a visit to the grandmother God at last: “God holds our face in her two hands and whispers, ‘Do not be afraid, I will be faithful to the promise I made to you when you were young. I will be with you. Even to your old age I will be with you. When you are grey headed still I will hold you. I gave birth to you, I carried you. I will hold you still. Grow old along with me….’”
And the invitation to every congregant is offered to do likewise—all without ever using the verb “repent”: “God would prefer that we come home. She is waiting for us, ever patiently until we are ready. God will not sleep. She will leave the door open and the candles burning waiting patiently for us to come home.”
The Hardest Question
What is the best way for you, in your preaching context, to speak about sin and repentance—a direct, bracing naming, using the terms “sin” and “repentance,” calling it like it is? Or omitting those terms in favor of an imaginative meditation?
Reverend Dr. Lauren Winner writes and lectures widely on Christian practice, the history of Christianity in America, and Jewish-Christian relations. Her books include Girl Meets God, Mudhouse Sabbath, Real Sex, a study of household religious practice in 18th-century Virginia, A Cheerful and Comfortable Faith, published by Yale University Press in the fall of 2010, and, most recently, Still: Notes on a Mid-Faith Crisis. Lauren is also a contributor to sparkhouse’s animate series for adult faith formation. In the midst of lecturing and writing, Lauren serves as a priest associate at St. Luke's Episcopal Church (Durham) and a member of the board of the Episcopal Preaching Foundation.
