“Jesus said, ‘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?’” (Luke 15:4)
SOUL-SURFING – September 12, 2010
Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Luke 15:1-32
Fr. Robert deLeon, CSC
His open arms seemed to be waiting for the 8 of us as, often a bit tardy, we filled a whole pew at Christ the King Church. And upon arrival home after Mass (in fact, with every arrival home from wherever we’d been), he was already there waiting, same arms flung wide, same hint of a smile on his face. I’d always imagined he was speaking to us, something gentle, something welcoming.
Our family always sat on the Sacred Heart side of our parish church. Mostly, I guess, because it was the side closest to where Dad had parked the car and the side from which we could make the quickest escape. I don’t recall us ever sitting on the Blessed Mother’s side. Each Sunday, Mom, Dad, we 3 boys and our 3 sisters would fill a whole row, doing our best to remain reverent as Mass was celebrated in Latin and facing the wall in those pre-Vatican II days. Christ the King Church was small and rural, so the life-size statue of the Sacred Heart right in front of us seemed particularly imposing. As the mysteries played out in the sanctuary, that statue was often my focus each Sunday morning. The arms stretched out toward us, the eyes other-worldly bright, the exposed heart radiating golden beams – I knew he was speaking to us, but it was some time before I could make out the words.
Another Sacred Heart statue awaited our arrival home. This one, a legacy of my maternal grandmother, was a 3-footer and pretty beat-up in appearance, mostly the result of having to share housing with 6 rowdy kids, a dog and a cat. Both hands had been glued back on after some mishap, and Jesus’ nose had been broken, its tip now fractured white plaster. At various times the outstretched arms of Jesus held my sister’s hula-hoop, my brother’s baseball mitt and even mom’s string of pearls. In short, the Sacred Heart was clearly one of the family, exhibiting all the bumps, bruises, scrapes and dents the rest of us accumulated over the years.
And whether it was the beat-up statue in our house or the resplendent one in church, I knew instinctively he was speaking to us. While still I couldn’t make out the exact words, there was surely comfort in what I imagined them to be.
Finally, over the years and after I’d suffered more bumps and bruises to body and spirit than our battered statue at home, those long unheard words finally became audible. Finally the statue spoke: “I have been looking for you.”
Indeed, it’s in the context of the parable we hear in today’s gospel and addressed to the scribes and Pharisees that Jesus asks, “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?” (Luke 15:4)
In truth, each one of us has been that singular sheep at one time or another. We can, each of us, recall a time when we felt separated from the flock. Maybe the separation was even a conscious choice we’d made. We can, perhaps, recall the biting loneliness and mounting fear that accompanied the isolation. Eventually, the deep, unspoken desire of the heart became a desperate prayer: “Please find me!” And he did with arms outstretched, eyes other-worldly bright, exposed heart with radiating golden beams calling us home.
And having been carried gently back to the warmth and security of the fold, Jesus reminds us that it now becomes our holy mission to do for others what was done for us as we seek out the lost, invite home the wayward, carry on our shoulders the halt and lame. Having been brought safely home ourselves, we 21st century shepherds keep a sharp ear for the same desperate cry that was once ours.
The gospel passage continues, “When [the shepherd] comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’” (Luke 15:6)
Indeed, as we gather this day to celebrate the Eucharist, we give thanks to God for finding us when we were lost, for lifting us onto strong shoulders when we were too weak to walk, for loving us when there seemed nothing loveable about us.
This day, we see him even now with open arms, bright eyes and burning heart as he says, “I’ve been looking for you.” And we respond as best we can in like fashion – arms ready to bear the burdens of the world, eyes bright with faith to bear hope in the darkness, hearts accessible and available for all those who cry out, “Please find me!”
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