Proper 19 (24) – Year C
Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost: September 14, 2025
Gospel Lectionary Text
Luke 15:1-10
15:1 Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him.
15:2 And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, "This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them."
15:3 So he told them this parable:
15:4 "Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?
15:5 When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices.
15:6 And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.'
15:7 Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.
15:8 "Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it?
15:9 When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.'
15:10 Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents."
Context
Welcome to the Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost. This week’s text goes straight to the heart of the Gospel. And it sets up camp in the most toxic of places: fear and resentment. The Pharisees and scribes are filled with it, chewing on their grievances like a cow chewing its cud. They grumble: “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” Jesus responds with two stories about parties.
In the first, a shepherd foolishly leaves ninety-nine sheep in the wilderness to go after one that’s lost. The ninety-nine are left exposed while the shepherd seeks out the one. Who risks ninety-nine for the sake of one? It’s bad math.
We can almost hear the ninety-nine grumbling with their sacrificial logic, “It’s better to lose one than risk us all” (John 11:50). But the shepherd is ruled by another logic. He goes after the lost sheep, hoists it on his shoulders, and returns with a call for a celebration.
Then there’s the story of a woman who loses a coin from her bridal dowry. She turns the house upside down until she finds it. Another party ensues! Once again, foolish. Once again, bad math. The cost of the celebration vastly outweighs the value of the coin.
Both of these mathematically challenged stories end with the invitation: “Rejoice with me!”
If there is a phrase that sums up the Gospel, this is it. We are invited into God’s joy, into a party where even our fears and resentments learn to relax and dance to the beat of a different drum.
“You'll be forgiven for forgetting
that what you really want is
love's confusing joy.” (Rumi)
Question
What would it look like to let ourselves be found — not just once, but again and again?
Reflections
Rejoice with Me
By Gideon Ochieng |
Recently, as I was returning home from a long day at the office, I came across a crowd of people not far from my home. It kept on growing and within a few minutes, the road was completely blocked. It was hard to tell what was going on. But a few meters away, in a...
Join the Party
By Lina Thompson |
I’ve been around a few “lost” people in my life over the course of my ministry. How many times have I heard (and said), “Man, dude is lost.” And in that statement, I feel sad and hopeless, like I have come to my limits in what I am able to do or offer. It requires...
The Math of Mercy
By Kris Rocke |
Fifteen years ago this Sunday (9/11) something awful happened, and I do mean aw-full. Most of us were filled with awe. We let ourselves be awed by evil, and it consumed us. Four planes were hijacked–the Twin Towers destroyed. 2,996 were killed, which includes the 19 men who carried out the absurdity and whose loss…
Praying Eucharistically - Weekly Homily by James Alison:
Girardian Lectionary Weekly Reflection:
Understanding the Bible anew through the Mimetic Theory of René Girard.
Poetry
This week, we invite you to read and reflect on “Father and Son,” by William Stafford.
This poem’s title and its enigmatic lines seem to have nothing to do with one another. Stafford describes the feeling of losing a kite while flying it – the “thrill along the string” suddenly “ somewhere.” It happened “years ago,” he writes, and yet he still feels like he’s holding that broken string, and feeling something “tug the other end.”
Holding on to a broken thing makes little sense. It makes about as much sense as the parables we find in this week’s lectionary: abandoning 99 sheep to find a missing one, or throwing a party that radically outweighs the value of a single lost coin.
Perhaps the poem’s title itself gestures towards the “confusing joy” of love that leads us to throw such calculations out the window. Maybe you have seen the change on a child’s face when a string severs, when a balloon “sails forever clear of earth.” When a parent or caregiver sees that face, something in us loses the will to teach lessons about cause and effect and things being temporary. We would turn the whole world upside down to find what’s been lost. “Whatever tugs the other end” of the broken string throws all our stern logic out of whack.
Do we dare read this sort of passion into the Trinity? The Father who is “not willing that any should perish” (2 Peter 3:9)? The Son who insists, “No one can snatch out of my hand” (John 10:28)?
“Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.”
Father and Son
by William Stafford
where the wind went, our kite sent back
its thrill along the string that
sagged but sang and said, “I’m here!
I’m here!”—till broke somewhere,
gone years ago, but sailed forever clear
of earth. I hold—whatever tugs
the other end—I hold that string.
excerpt from And Then
by Matthew Nienow
I had forgotten
how new
anyone forgiven
can become.
Prayer
This week, the call to prayer comes from the Street Psalms Centering Prayer:
Come, Holy Spirit, wild and free. Do as you please. Shine your light on me that I might see things as they are, not as I am. Free me to act in your name with courage, creativity, and compassion.
