Think about a time you were invited to help celebrate something. What was the occasion? How well did you know the guest of honor? Who else was there? What did you do? Was there someone present who made the party livelier or more joyful?
I think we can all imagine such a party guest. You know who I mean - someone who is pleasant, a good conversationalist, not too demanding. Someone who participates with gusto - the first one on the dance floor, pulling friends and strangers into the circle; the first one to line up at the karaoke machine; the one to call out, "Hey! Who's ready to play this game?". Someone who, through their own excitement and willingness to jump right in, makes others excited to participate, too.
I was thinking about parties and celebrating because of the end of these parables - the rejoicing that happens after the lost are found. The shepherd and the woman are so excited that what was lost has been found, and so excited that what was fragmented has been made whole that they cannot keep their excitement to themselves. It fills them up and then overflows, drawing neighbors and friends into the celebration. Rejoice with me! For what was lost has been found.
Jesus is telling these stories to a divided audience. Both the tax collectors and sinners and the religious leaders are listening to Jesus. What did each group need to hear? What words of challenge and grace would each draw from these parables?
The tax collectors and sinners knew that they were outsiders. It was not just something whispered or implied. They were the lost ones, and the religious leaders made sure they didn’t forget it. What grace, then, to hear of a God who counts each and every one of his beloved sheep. What grace to hear of a God who searches earnestly for what is missing, not resting until it is found.
The religious leaders were convinced that they were the insiders of insiders. They followed the laws, performed the rituals, acted faithfully. How interesting, then, to hear of a coin that was lost inside the house. Could it be possible to be lost even when you think you’re doing everything right, or when you haven’t wandered off? What grace to hear of a God who counts each and every one of her precious coins. What grace to hear of a God who searches earnestly for what is missing, not resting until it is found.
I wonder if you can identify with the grumblings of the religious leaders. I have to say, I get where they’re coming from. I mean, it’s bad enough that Jesus welcomes sinners, but does he really have to eat with them too?! Can’t he welcome them provisionally? Do they really need special attention? Why should we celebrate something they should have already been doing?! Why? Because God doesn’t need a reason to celebrate, and God’s welcome is never conditional.
I wonder if you know what it feels like to be lost and then found again, through no effort of your own. I wonder if you know what it feels like to be lost when you haven’t gone anywhere. I wonder if the call to celebrate leaves you scowling or smiling. I wonder how you feel about the people we are called to eat with as we gather around the dinner table and the communion table.
The good news for us is that God is most excellent at celebrating. It is at the table each week that we celebrate God’s goodness. We celebrate that in the tiniest morsel of bread and wine we receive the very body and blood of Jesus. We celebrate that our own worthiness or unworthiness has nothing to do with our invitation to the table. We celebrate this foretaste of the feast to come, which connects us to God and to one another.
There are lots of good theological reasons for children to be welcomed at the communion table, receiving the body and blood of Christ alongside the rest of us. It’s one of my favorite topics to discuss, if you’d like to hear more! But one of the most compelling reasons, for me, has nothing to do with theology - it's the feeling of rejoicing that children so often convey. Certainly there is nothing wrong with a pious reception of the sacrament, but there’s just something so wonderful about the big smiles and eager hands that rejoice to grab hold of the presence of God in bread and wine.
The willingness of children to celebrate without timidity or reservation extends beyond the communion table. While I’ll be the first to say that sometimes the shrieks of joy can be a little piercing, I admire the way children throw themselves into celebrating. I wonder what we can learn from God, and from the little ones among us, about how we might better rejoice together.
Because there is a need, I think, for more celebrating. A need to recognize and lift up the ways that God is present in our daily lives. A need for encouragement about victories big and small. A need for more meals together, for more playing, and more music. A need for friends and neighbors to gather in celebration and support.
I wonder how the church - how we - might respond to this need. I wonder how the church - how we - might better embody that ideal party guest, jumping right in and encouraging others to follow. I wonder how we can be like the one who is there for the celebrating, however it may unfold. How can we better support one another and celebrate the lost being found? How can we join God’s celebration of wholeness, restoration, and community? What might it look like to celebrate victories big and small with the joy and gusto shown by the man and woman in the parable?
Celebrating can bring us together, and rejoicing is often contagious. For a God who gives us so much to celebrate, we give thanks.
I think we can all imagine such a party guest. You know who I mean - someone who is pleasant, a good conversationalist, not too demanding. Someone who participates with gusto - the first one on the dance floor, pulling friends and strangers into the circle; the first one to line up at the karaoke machine; the one to call out, "Hey! Who's ready to play this game?". Someone who, through their own excitement and willingness to jump right in, makes others excited to participate, too.
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| Photo by Seyedeh Hamideh Kazemi on Unsplash |
I was thinking about parties and celebrating because of the end of these parables - the rejoicing that happens after the lost are found. The shepherd and the woman are so excited that what was lost has been found, and so excited that what was fragmented has been made whole that they cannot keep their excitement to themselves. It fills them up and then overflows, drawing neighbors and friends into the celebration. Rejoice with me! For what was lost has been found.
Jesus is telling these stories to a divided audience. Both the tax collectors and sinners and the religious leaders are listening to Jesus. What did each group need to hear? What words of challenge and grace would each draw from these parables?
The tax collectors and sinners knew that they were outsiders. It was not just something whispered or implied. They were the lost ones, and the religious leaders made sure they didn’t forget it. What grace, then, to hear of a God who counts each and every one of his beloved sheep. What grace to hear of a God who searches earnestly for what is missing, not resting until it is found.
The religious leaders were convinced that they were the insiders of insiders. They followed the laws, performed the rituals, acted faithfully. How interesting, then, to hear of a coin that was lost inside the house. Could it be possible to be lost even when you think you’re doing everything right, or when you haven’t wandered off? What grace to hear of a God who counts each and every one of her precious coins. What grace to hear of a God who searches earnestly for what is missing, not resting until it is found.
I wonder if you can identify with the grumblings of the religious leaders. I have to say, I get where they’re coming from. I mean, it’s bad enough that Jesus welcomes sinners, but does he really have to eat with them too?! Can’t he welcome them provisionally? Do they really need special attention? Why should we celebrate something they should have already been doing?! Why? Because God doesn’t need a reason to celebrate, and God’s welcome is never conditional.
I wonder if you know what it feels like to be lost and then found again, through no effort of your own. I wonder if you know what it feels like to be lost when you haven’t gone anywhere. I wonder if the call to celebrate leaves you scowling or smiling. I wonder how you feel about the people we are called to eat with as we gather around the dinner table and the communion table.
The good news for us is that God is most excellent at celebrating. It is at the table each week that we celebrate God’s goodness. We celebrate that in the tiniest morsel of bread and wine we receive the very body and blood of Jesus. We celebrate that our own worthiness or unworthiness has nothing to do with our invitation to the table. We celebrate this foretaste of the feast to come, which connects us to God and to one another.
There are lots of good theological reasons for children to be welcomed at the communion table, receiving the body and blood of Christ alongside the rest of us. It’s one of my favorite topics to discuss, if you’d like to hear more! But one of the most compelling reasons, for me, has nothing to do with theology - it's the feeling of rejoicing that children so often convey. Certainly there is nothing wrong with a pious reception of the sacrament, but there’s just something so wonderful about the big smiles and eager hands that rejoice to grab hold of the presence of God in bread and wine.
The willingness of children to celebrate without timidity or reservation extends beyond the communion table. While I’ll be the first to say that sometimes the shrieks of joy can be a little piercing, I admire the way children throw themselves into celebrating. I wonder what we can learn from God, and from the little ones among us, about how we might better rejoice together.
Because there is a need, I think, for more celebrating. A need to recognize and lift up the ways that God is present in our daily lives. A need for encouragement about victories big and small. A need for more meals together, for more playing, and more music. A need for friends and neighbors to gather in celebration and support.
I wonder how the church - how we - might respond to this need. I wonder how the church - how we - might better embody that ideal party guest, jumping right in and encouraging others to follow. I wonder how we can be like the one who is there for the celebrating, however it may unfold. How can we better support one another and celebrate the lost being found? How can we join God’s celebration of wholeness, restoration, and community? What might it look like to celebrate victories big and small with the joy and gusto shown by the man and woman in the parable?
Celebrating can bring us together, and rejoicing is often contagious. For a God who gives us so much to celebrate, we give thanks.
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