The Lost One
by Chris Paige
Preached at Tabernacle United Church, June 4, 2000
John 17:6-12; Matthew 18:10-14
One of my core beliefs is that God never gives up on us. No matter what we do. A belief that God sees through the world's divisions to embrace even the least of us. To embrace those that we as humans so readily cast aside. Like the shepherd in search of the one lost sheep in our first reading today, God pursues our best interests relentlessly.
Our first reading says, "It is the will of God that not one of these little ones should perish." This belief in God's relentless pursuit propels me in a confident faith that God's grace is wide enough to handle all of my misunderstandings and mistakes. No matter how stupid or rash I may be on occassion. Thanks be to God for that!
And most times I've read over this second passage from the Gospel of John and our lectionary passage for today, I have heard a similar message. Most times I've heard a message of love and unity. Of reassurance that God in Jesus was rooting for us. For all of us. Even as Jesus was preparing to go to his death, he prayed for us to be held safely. Indeed, here is the good shepherd thinking, not of himself, but rather of the sheep he will leave behind.
But this time reading through, I got stuck. I got stuck at verse 12 where I found a big ol' "But." This time, I noticed the exception. Jesus says to God, "I have protected those that you have given me and not one has been lost." BUT. "Not one has been lost," EXCEPT The son of perdition. In some translations, they call him, "The son of destruction." Or, "The one destined to be lost." Yes, you guessed it... This is good old Judas.
"No one has been lost" EXCEPT Judas "that the scripture might be fulfilled." Jesus stops just long enough to note -- and justify -- his losing one sheep. He justifies it as a fulfillment of the scriptures -- as part of God's plan. And then goes right back to what he was doing. He hardly seems to skip a beat. Now, I know Judas is the ultimate fall guy. "The one who betrayed our Lord." If there is anybody we, as Christians, should love to hate, it would have to be Judas. No wonder neither the Gospel writers or most biblical commentaries I consulted seem to give much thought to the loss of Judas. It's just such a critical part of the story, that we skip right over it.
But when I read it this time, I was really kind of appalled. Now, I don't know where I get off -- arguing not only with scripture, but with Jesus himself. But I have to be honest and say that I find this turn of phrase deeply disturbing -- particularly since it seems to contradict Jesus own teaching.
In my reading of the Gospel story, Judas is the ultimate lost sheep. He was one of the good guys. One of Jesus's partners in ministry. He was an insider. One of the twelve guys on the inside track. He was not just any old sheep, he had to be one of the favorite sheep. And here, at a critical juncture of our story, he got lost. Oops. Oh well... moving on with our story... It just doesn't seem like the Jesus I would expect.
What about the lost sheep? The lost coin? The prodigal son? What about going the extra mile? What about our pursuit of reconciliation and forgiveness? What about our walking the talk? And practicing what we preach? No. Here, the good shepherd himself, loses a sheep. Justifies it with the Bible. And then goes on with his business. The reality of Jesus relationship with Judas seems to contradict Jesus teaching in our first reading today. The parable of the lost sheep. I have really struggled with this.
And this is exactly why I enjoy the challenge of preaching every once in awhile. It forces me to actually read the Bible carefully and reflect deeply. It's also why I like to preach on the lectionary. Because it forces me to wrestle with passages I might otherwise skip over. It forces me to wrestle with God -- and in the process, I usually grow. However, in pondering this passage, this time, I have mostly come away with a sick feeling in my stomach. Anger. Disgust. A sense of betrayal. And few choice words uttered at God. The contradiction and apparent mixed message offends me in a really deep place that's hard for me to even express.
Sure Judas deserved to pay for his betrayal of Christ. But don't we all? How could Jesus give up on him? As Christians, I just don't think we are allowed to write people off that way. Not anybody. Not even Judas. But here I am arguing with Jesus Christ himself. I mean, who am I to argue with the son of God? So maybe I need to set aside my idealism and think this through from a different angle.
How do we feel when someone close to us, hurts us badly? When we feel we've been betrayed? When we no longer feel we can trust someone we once counted on? What are we supposed to do when a close relationship is in painful conflict and seems to only be getting worse?
I used to work with someone who became a close friend. And in the last year she was with our organization, our relationship deteriorated severely. For a year or so, I tried to process with her. Tried to set new boundaries for our relationship. Tried to negotiate new ways of relating. But it only kept getting worse and worse. And it was painful for both of us -- as well as for anyone caught nearby in the crossfire. About three months after she left, when our communication still hadn't improved any, we both decided that we'd be better off not speaking at all anymore. And that is how it has been for several years now. While she is in contact with some friends and coworkers, I have made a clear choice to continue actively avoiding contact with her.
Now this offends some of the simplest Christian sensibilities I was ever taught. Much the same way that Jesus dismissing Judas as lost disturbs me. It disturbs me that, to the best of my ability, I have attempted to cut off all contact with this person who used to be a close friend.
Maybe some of you have wrestled with a relationship that far gone at some time. A painful relationship where it hurts just to think about what might have gone wrong. Where you or someone you love have finally had to walk away. There are voices in my own head that call me stubborn, resentful, uncharitable and unforgiving. Even UnChristian. I have wrestled with the realities of this relationship, much the way I've wrestled with the words of Jesus in this lectionary passage about Judas. It challenges my idealism. It forces me to futher examine the ambiguities of real relationships and our responsibilities as Christians.
In all that wrestling, what was my conclusion? Well, I realized I am only human. I realized I can't fix everything. And it is not my responsibility to fix everything. And that can be hard to accept. Now, mind you, it's taken me a long time to begin to get this through my thick skull.
While I do feel that we are obligated in Christian integrity to seek resolution in love with determination. Unfortunately, I don't think we'll always be successful. And we just don't talk much about that in church. So let me say it again: While I do feel that we are obligated to seek resolution in love with determination. I don't think we'll always be successful.
In regards to this particular relationship as well as other areas of my life, with the help of friends and community surrounding me, I have been gradually learning to accept that. To accept that sometimes, the best option left is to simply let go. Sometimes that's all we can do.
As much as I'd like to believe differently, I am human and I do have limitations. I get confused and emotional. I misunderstand things. I get hurt and defensive. I can only handle so much -- as hard as that is to admit. Because I am human, I can only take so much.
So gradually, I have been learning to give myself a break, beginning to trust my best intentions, and trying to accept my own limitations. Sometimes my best just isn't good enough -- but it is, afterall, all that I have to give. Since I am human, I have to trust God to make up the difference.
There will be irreconcilable differences, unsurmountable obstacles, and deep losses that affect us as humans. And we won't find peace just because we tried hard enough or wanted it badly enough. We will only find peace when we stop trying to be God. When we stop trying to be God long enough to let go and let God really work amongst our brokenness. And maybe that's what Jesus meant when he conceded his relationship with Judas in prayer. Maybe he simply meant that he was finally at peace giving it up to God. Maybe in that moment, Jesus, in his full humanity, was conceding his own limitations. Perhaps, citing scripture and God's greater wisdom was simply his way of letting go of a failed relationship with Judas. Letting Judas go into the mystery of a loving God. And if Jesus had to let go into this mystery. So much more should we.
So as we approach the communion table today, let us remember this mystery. That we are human. And that God is God. Let us remember that even out of the brokeness of our humanity, represented in the breaking of bread, God mysteriously brings new life and makes us whole. We gather not because of our power to resolve our own differences. And not because of our best intentions to live a holy and Christian life. Rather we gather here to celebrate the mystery of the neverending grace of our God, which transcends even our most painful losses.
Amen.
© 2000 Chris Paige
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