Expect the Unexpected

John 12:1-8

“Expect the unexpected” –that statement might serve us well as a motto for life. Expect the unexpected. But just what does it mean? It’s an oxymoron, isn’t it? Totally contradictory. Because, if you expect something, then by definition, how can it be “unexpected?”

Yet we all know about unexpected things – the chance encounter, the fateful phone call, the serendipity. Some unexpected things are good, some wonderful, some challenging, some downright breathtakingly difficult. Expect the unexpected? How can we do that? For some of us, to live our lives expecting the unexpected might lead to a kind of paralysis – to shutting down all the possibilities of life because of the risks truly living, expecting the unexpected, implies.

And yet it was those words – expect the unexpected – that came to me this week while I was reading this gospel. The words seemed familiar, but I really wondered if I had just made them up, because they also sounded so ridiculous: expect the unexpected?

So, I did what everyone does when they want to know more about something. I “Googled” it. As I typed ‘expect the unexpected” into the Google search engine, just a few hits turned up.

I learned that there really is a definition for the phrase “expect the unexpected.” It’s in the online dictionary connected to that other trusted online source of all information - Wikipedia. According to Wiktionary, to “expect the unexpected means “To not be surprised by an unusual event. Anything could happen, and probably will.” Sounds kind of like another of Murphy’s Laws, doesn’t it?

So, this is what I learned from my computer search: this expression has been around awhile – thousands of years, in fact. Back in about the 5^th century BC the Greek philosopher Heraclitus said, “If you do not expect the unexpected, you will not find it, for it is not reached by search or trail.” Truthfully, that makes about as much sense to me as just about anything written by an ancient Greek philosopher.

 But in the last century or so, Oscar Wilde, the late Irish playwright, novelist and poet, quoted this phrase and then tried to qualify it: “To expect the unexpected shows a thoroughly modern intellect.”

Serendipity, chance meetings and love at first sight aside, to expect the unexpected for many of us has come to mean being prepared for the next bit of bad news, to remain alert for signs of oncoming calamity, and perhaps, to be suspicious of the people around us, because we know that we’ve been burned by being unaware or unsuspecting so many times before.

What kinds of unexpected things can catch us unaware?

A child lost too soon, a scary diagnosis or medical outcome; the betrayal of a friend; an accidental injury; the sudden loss of a loved one; the divorce of a child or neighbor; the results of an election; natural disasters.

Sometimes the unexpected thing is the realization that we have been wrong, we have injured others, we have failed to be the people God intends us to be. Even our own conflicted feelings, motivations, and actions can surprise us at times, when we realize through self-examination how immune from sin we are not.

When we read the scriptures, both Old Testament and New, we see how often God has worked in unexpected, and surprising; and through unexpected and surprising people. People like us. People who were flawed and vulnerable. Truth be told, God almost always behaves in ways that are unexpected by the tunnel-vision of the world.

Could the Israelites have ever expected they would be freed from Egypt or that the means of their liberation would be God working through an imperfect prophet named Moses, a series of plagues and a passing angel? Could they ever have expected the Red Sea to part, and only for them; or to be fed by manna which fell from the skies and water that poured out from a rock?

Could barren old women and teenage virgins ever expect to not only bear children, but ones who are sent by God as prophets, kings, and even the Savior of the world? Could the prophets and patriarchs have ever imagined or expected the effect they would have on world history?

Could a devout Pharisee named Saul, the persecutor of a fledgling church of Jesus followers ever have expected that God would not only strike him blind but then restore sight to him, and give him a new vision of the divinity of Jesus Christ; or that his letters would serve the faith of followers of Christ for generations?

Today’s gospel narrative is full of unexpected things too; in fact, most of the actions, and images and scenes depicted here are things which would be unexpected and even shocking at the time.

Unexpected happenings begin earlier in the Gospel of John and are often given the name “signs and wonders” – things like Jesus raising the dead to life, Jesus loving tax collectors and sinners, changing water into wine, and healing, forgiving and transforming the lives of the hopeless.

Not long before the dinner scene from our gospel took place, Jesus does one of those things by raising Lazarus, Jesus’ friend who had been dead for days and was already sealed in a tomb. Not only did Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead, but we are reminded of his restoration as the gospel writer states twice in today’s gospel that not only is Lazarus alive, but he is present in the house that day, gathered together with Jesus and other his friends and at that he even sits at the table – the most unexpected of guests.

If we were following clues to a story, here is clue number one found in the unexpected details in this story – Lazarus, the formerly dead friend is present that day. What do you do about the religious prohibitions regarding contact with the dead when an undead one sits at your table?

Then there is this whole business of Mary, her perfumed oil, and her hair. Clue number two – you wouldn’t anoint a person’s feet unless they were dead. You might anoint a person’s head, but then only if he was a king or priest.

Further, anointing was a mainly socio-political action, performed man – to – man. Women had no part in anointing unless it was in attendance of a dead person’s body. Yet Mary turns this anointing of Jesus into something prophetic, intimate, holy, and wholly unexpected.

Clues three and four also involve Mary; the perfume she used so lavishly was expensive; her actions interpreted as both extravagant and wasteful. Conspicuous consumption by ordinary people was unheard of in that time. Then Mary wiped Jesus’ feet with her hair. Women did not unbind their hair except for a husband. This was an intimate act, done in public, no less. Mary’s is an act of unexpected, reckless beauty, preparing Jesus not for burial but for the walk to his death on the cross.

Five – Jesus is the guest of honor at this dinner, where the expected tone of conversation would be polite and respectful, honoring the gift of the host. Yet Jesus speaks of his death and then argues with one of his disciples at the table.

Number six – one of Jesus’ disciples, Judas would never be expected to raise the stink he does, as a guest at this dinner, as the disciple of this man, nor as one who needs to lie low, since we know, as Jesus himself knows, of his nefarious plans.

As Jesus reclined at the table that day, unexpected things were occurring all around, things his disciples probably reflected on long after his death. In the days ahead, the fragrance of the oil will linger with Mary, and she will likely be reminded of all the places those precious feet had been, and their being pierced in the end. She will likely remember all Jesus had done, and the love he had shared with his friends, his followers, and those he met along his path.

We are reminded through the gospels, through the story of this dinner party, and through the witness of our own lives, that in God we should expect the unexpected. In Jesus, unexpected things abound with, for and through unlikely people and events.

David Lose writes, “people expected the messiah to look like King David; what they got instead was a former carpenter and itinerant preacher. The crowds who welcome Jesus a few verses after these expected Jesus to throw out the Romans; instead he is crucified by them. Even his followers expect his crucifixion to be the end of the story; it turns out to be just the beginning.”

As we near the end of this journey of Lent, expect the unexpected. Through Jesus God does the most unexpected thing of all. In Jesus, sinners receive the unexpected goodness, eternal love and boundless mercy of God. In Jesus, God is bringing us new life not only through the forgiveness of sin but also the invitation to follow, accompany, and serve the mission of God in the world.

Jesus heals through spit and mud and touch and profound acceptance and love. The blind see, the lame walk, and sinners are transformed into saints for the good of the kingdom of God.

The same God who gave Israel kings, and prophets, restored exiled people to life, loves us into an unexpected kind of existence. Here, in the name of Jesus we stand, and embrace the loving and unexpected grace of God toward all people. We are reminded of the pathways of love that bind us to Jesus Christ through our baptism, and to one another as Jesus declared his liberating presence for all people. Through pathways of love as unexpected as a woman sitting on the floor at the feet of her Lord anointing his feet, God calls us all to the table where we are transformed as unexpected blessing for the sake of the kingdom of God.  

What kinds of unexpected things is God doing in your life? In the world? In answers to prayer, spoken aloud and in the silence of sleepless nights? What unexpected places is God showing up today? How is God unexpectedly calling you and me into the richness of kingdom life and service, through the breathless washing and wiping of tears, the cleansing of sin?

Whom might God work through in unexpected ways next? In what way might God be working unexpectedly through you?

As we reflect on the meal in a house in Bethany, we are called to expect the unexpected and in Jesus we are commissioned to perform works of mercy and love in the name of Christ – things like making quilts for refugees, providing food for the hungry, going out and sharing the story of the unexpected and pleasing surprises you have discovered as a child of God.

Heraclitus was right – we do not discover the unexpected through searching for it, it is already here, surprising us, and warming us; it has already claimed us in the name of Jesus Christ, most unexpected gift of all.

Real Men Don't Run

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

The gospel story we read this morning is one of the best-known stories in the Bible. Even in the secular world, references are made all the time to “the prodigal” or “the prodigal son,” a phrase that has become idiomatic for lost things, sometimes for lax morals or licentiousness. In religious vernacular, for sin.

Certainly when we think of the prodigal, we associate him or her with undesirable living, and sometimes, as one who has returned to the fold following a period of misadventure. We’ve each probably known someone like that at some time in our lives. Perhaps we’ve been that person.

Perhaps even now we relate to this story of the Prodigal Son because there is some aspect of the story that is, today, part of our experience of family or other relationship. Many of us know the prodigal experience all too well. Something is lost. Someone is lost; missing; as good as dead.

It might be a child who has rejected us and our sense of values; or it might be a sibling from whom we are estranged. Some of us might have experienced this kind of separation from parents or from friends, we might have suffered hurts that have never healed and cannot now be healed – because it is too late. We never got to fix what was broken, and now, a scar resides deep within.

Perhaps we are the ones who have “fallen from grace” through bad decisions we have made, by falling in with the wrong people, because we have gone to bad places in our lives, suffered failures of our own making, or adopted harmful habits.

And so it is that we might approach this story and the accompanying scriptures we read this morning with a bit of empathy for the different characters; we can imagine all too well what it is like to be in their shoes.

It’s easy to place ourselves somewhere in this story. Yet this story does not stand alone, and to fully appreciate the gospel good news for us today, it is helpful to know the rest of the story.

The context of today’s scripture is that the Pharisees and scribes were grumbling about the social activities of Jesus. He has been spending time, even eating with tax collectors and sinners. He has been hanging out with outcasts; undesirables.

Jesus has allowed himself to be in the presence of the unclean – those no self-respecting Jew would even acknowledge. The thrust of their argument is that if Jesus parties with and favors those people, what kind of Jew, what kind of leader, what kind of savior can he possibly be?

If we were to receive such criticism, we might be tempted to respond, “Back off boys! I will love who I want, embrace whom I choose, do as I please.” We might expect Jesus to respond, “I will redeem those whom I choose. They will repent because of my saving mercy. They will become more like you and me.”

Instead, Jesus tells three parables – stories in which it is unquestionably clear that God loves differently than we do, God behaves differently than we do, and God values sinners more than we could ever imagine, which is good news for all of us.

As Jesus moves from story to story he barely takes a breath. He begins with a woman who finds a lost coin – just one coin among many she may own – because of its importance to her.

He moves on to tell about the celebration that goes on when one measly sheep out of an entire flock is found after wandering away and becoming lost.

And finally, he tells about the biggest party of all, this huge bash given in honor of the most unlikely of recipients: one that was not simply lost, hadn’t just wandered away, but has behaved in the most outrageous manner, has sinned against his father so egregiously, that disinheritance and banishment is all he really deserves.

What makes this story so interesting and over-the-top is that all of the characters behave in such outlandish, ridiculous and outright scandalous ways. As it is told, this is a story of extremes. The father’s over-the-top forgiveness and love for his sons is bookended by their outrageous behavior.

The younger son isn’t just a bad boy. He doesn’t just wreck the family chariot or steal money from the father’s purse. In any age this son’s behavior would be frowned upon, but remember that the story is written in a time and for a people where every action and interaction is deeply inscribed with honor, status and rank being conferred or denied; and people live and die according to such things.

The younger son treats his father with the ultimate disregard. He treats his father not only as if he wishes he were already dead, but as if he were dead to him. He violates the 4^th commandment. He does not honor his father. He tells his father he wants what he has no right to ask for.

Rather than treat his father with honor, love and respect, he spurns him; he spits on a grave not even dug yet. That is the strength of his wrongdoing; his sin. It is, frankly, an unforgivable sin. Once his father gives him what he wants, this son essentially wipes the dust of their relationship right off his feet. He takes off for faraway places.

At the end of the parable we have the elder son, who also treats his father with disrespect and disregard. Many of us might sympathize with this son for the injustice he feels has been dealt him. Yet still, he dispels his wrath upon his father, dishonoring him, disregarding his status, ignoring the respect which he is due, and denying his father’s right ultimately to do as he chooses with what is his.

His father is throwing a big party. Everyone has been invited. All of the neighbors are there. There is a banquet table heaped with the finest food, and the best wine is being poured. And this son refuses to go in. In a culture where honor is everything, this son scorns and shames his father. At a banquet where the patriarch would expect to remain reclining at the table throughout, he makes his father go out to him; he makes his father plead with him.

Even if we feel for this son and the hurt he must feel, part of our take-away from this story must be that even this son, the one who has worked hard, done what is right up until now at least by his accounting, even the one who by every measure of society has lived righteously – even he displays appallling behavior and fails to show his father the absolute honor and loyalty to which he is entitled.

Each son in fact has behaved shockingly disgracefully.

Sandwiched between the shenanigans of the two sons, comes the father. The bridge between these two sons is a father who behaves most unexpectedly of all. His behavior is the most surprising and scandalous of the three.

By every measure possible this man is of high rank and status. A strong sense of propriety is expected – no – demanded of such a person. And yet by every measure of respectability, especially those in the Ancient Near East, he has behaved the most scandalously and shamefully of all.

First, he reveals himself to be a fool, “dividing his life” – his goods- his property – and his wealth to his sons before he is dead. Disregarding the wisdom and religious teachings of the day, he makes himself dependent on these sons of his.

Here are the words from Sirach, which guided these relationships and was deeply inscribed in the culture:

To son or wife, to brother or friend,

do not give power over yourself, as long as you live;

and do not give your property to another,

in case you change your mind and must ask for it.

²¹ While you are still alive and have breath in you,

do not let anyone take your place.

²² For it is better that your children should ask from you

than that you should look to the hand of your children.

²³ Excel in all that you do;

bring no stain upon your honor.

By every measure of respectability and honor, the father has been the fool.

Despite his abandonment by the younger son who squanders everything with “dissolute living” – we can read that as licentiousness, debauchery, despicable lifestyle and behaviors - when his son returns but is still a “far way off” the father, filled with compassion, races toward him. He doesn’t wait for the apology, the excuses and that the rest. It is clear he has been watching – and waiting – and hoping – for his son’s return.

Men of high status don’t run. Certainly in that world they didn’t. They don’t hike up their robes, exposing their ankles and who knows what else for all the world to see.

Men of high rank don’t throw themselves at anyone, let alone those who have so completely wronged and shamed them. Before this son could even begin speaking – apologies, groveling and all the rest of it – his father has not only forgiven him, but embraced him, and conferred high status on him – he gives him robes and a ring and throws the biggest, most extravagant party you can imagine. His joy is overflowing.

Everyone is invited!

All those neighbors who have surely noticed his son’s absence all this time, who have likely heard stories about him, are invited to help him celebrate his son’s return.

Then, when his elder son himself acts shamefully and dishonorably, forcing his father to come to him and refusing by his choice of words to confer respect to his father, his father reaches out to reestablish the family bond. How does this father, who has been so wronged, forgive so completely, love so fully that he again makes himself absolutely vulnerable to those who have not earned it?

The past few weeks the adult group in our Sunday morning faith connections, has been considering the topic of forgiveness. Through rich conversation we have discussed this complex topic – how hard it is, how multi-faceted our experience and understanding of it is. And here in this parable we read of a forgiveness and compassion, driven by divine love, which is above and beyond the scope of anything we can imagine.

Through this parable, Jesus reminds us this is what God does for us. God esteems those who deserve none of it. God’s grace and mercy and forgiveness, measured in worldly terms and measured by the human yardstick are stupid; ridiculous; foolish and even scandalous.

But as the father indicated that it was necessary – “we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life.” We are reminded of the reality of the divine necessity of Jesus’ journey – that there might be rejoicing and celebrating over finding what has been lost, and the restoration of that which has been dead. We recall our confession that even when we were dead in sin, God forgave us – and gave us Jesus.

The love of God transcends even our deepest brokenness, transforms us despite our most profound failures to be the people God created us to be. We cannot understand it. We cannot measure it. We can only grasp it, accept it, give thanks for it, and celebrate it.

The love of God is a mystery to us. How and why God chooses to love so truly, madly and deeply and forgive so completely, so absolutely, is beyond all human knowing. But isn’t it a source of joy and wonder that through Jesus this is exactly what God does?

God’s love is scandalous. God embodying our humanity in Jesus is ridiculous. God enacting our salvation through Jesus’ victory over death is stupefying. And yet this is what God does, for the sake of love. Despite where you see yourself in this story remember this: God loves you – and God waits for you, forgives you, and embraces you, conferring the high status of “my beloved” upon you. It’s true; God fiercely, vulnerably, courageously, scandalously, ridiculously and gloriously loves you. Period.