Introduction
The story of the
Prodigal Son – or the Scandalously Gracious Father – or the Rightfully
Indignant Sibling – or ALL of the above and more – is my favorite parable in
the whole Bible. It is both complex and
clear, it is simultaneously about sin and grace, it is edgy and challenging and
demands a reaction from us that helps each and all of us comprehend just how
much we need God’s love in our lives.
What’s more, it is
an adult story of faith –
neither simplistic nor sentimental – that refuses to moralize or judge because
the gospel way of faith is always multifaceted and demanding. As Douglas John Hall puts it in his new book,
Waiting for Gospel, the gospel is not
reducible “to fundamentals … or pathetic little greeting card ideas that are
only slightly more sophisticated than gross superstition!” No, the gospel is a lively, never shallow or
frivolous encounter with the essence of our God who is always Good Friday and
Easter together, silence and solidarity, Alpha and Omega in the shadow of the
Cross all at once.
As the poet and prophet
Isaiah said so clearly: “My thoughts are
not your thoughts nor are your ways my ways,” says the Lord.
“For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your
ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”
So for adults, beloved, our conversations about this parable – and
the whole gospel of new life in Christ the Lord – cannot be summarized by
slogans nor reduced to “six minute meditations” filled with simplistic
formulas. We must go deeper as St Paul told
us: “Now we regard no one purely from a
human point of view… because if anyone is in Christ, they are fully a new
creation where the old has passed away.”
Think about that for just a moment: we are to see life both from the perspective of the gospel AND from our humanity for we have been called to “be ambassadors for Christ, knowing that God is making an appeal to the world through us.”An ambassador is an official representative – the highest ranking diplomat – who gives shape and form to the heart, mind and soul of a nation or government – in this case the kingdom of God. Have you ever listened to the way ambassadors speak? They are careful with their words, intentional with their actions. They don’t give in to rants or cheap shots – name calling is out of the question – and they always look for ways to keep the door open and communication flowing. They are nuanced thinkers committed to strength and tenderness simultaneously.
Sadly, in our generation, Christians have become more
like the crusader than an ambassador, bullies rather than servant-leaders: our era detests nuance and paradox; we
cynically denigrate complex thinking and despise both careful theological
reflection and acts of quiet compassionate.
“Without a modicum of linguistic sophistication (in the Church)… and the
reduction of the key concepts of our faith to formulaic ideas lacking depth
(that are) incapable of dialectic” (Hall) much of what now passes for the
gospel in North America is a dumbed-down and mean-spirited parody of Jesus.
· Enter the parable of the prodigal son – praise
the Lord – because it is incapable of being deconstructed by intolerance or
reduced to some simple-minded lowest common denominator.
· This bad boy, beloved, is the real deal – the
WHOLE gospel enchilada from Good Friday to Easter with Pentecost and the
Ascension thrown in for good measure – served up in all of its wild and complex
wisdom for us to digest as adults. And
that’s what I’m going to ask you to do with me this morning: spend some time savoring this parable with me
so that it might be well digested and fully absorbed in all of its gracious
goodness.
Insights
You see, one of the fascinating truths
about this story is that it has something for everybody: there is an entry point for every perspective
and nobody is excluded. What’s more, it taps into our normal
and well-socialized sense of the scandalous and turns it upside down without
ever once moralizing or explaining away God’s amazing grace. So let’s start to savor the wisdom embodied
in the three key characters – the youngest son, the father and the oldest child
– to see what’s really going on.
Here are
a few important details about the youngest child: the story begins with him asking his father
for his inheritance before
poppa dies. Now not only was this NEVER done in ancient Jewish culture, but
it represents the height of selfishness and greed for two reasons. First, an inheritance is shared with the
heirs only after a death, so
this request is like the boy was saying “to me, father, you are as good as
dead.” This wasn’t just chutzpah, it was
disrespect and greed writ large. And we
can say that because of the second reason:
it wasn’t just money that was involved in the inheritance, but
property: in order to give in to this
child’s demand, the family estate had to be broken up and divided. Tradition and honor have been neglected here
– and things go from bad to worse with the youngest child as he leaves home for
a foreign and thus unclean land, takes up reckless personal behaviors,
squanders his inheritance and winds up as a Jewish man working in a Gentile
pork factory. He even falls so low as to
consider eating with the hogs before deciding to head back home and try to play
the old man like a violin one more time.
You see, there’s no mention in this story of this child’s sense of
repentance – maybe he was sorry – or maybe he was just feeling sorry for
himself and wanted to cut his losses.
Are you with me here? The details of this story leave lots of room
for nuance and complicated motives – just like real life. What’s more, they tell the all too familiar
tale of a young person thinking they know better than tradition and family who
makes a mess out of everything. And
whether you’ve been there in an AA meeting after hitting bottom – or standing
in a line applying for unemployment insurance – or sitting before an officer of
the court at a divorce hearing, most of us here today have played out our own version of the younger son and this is
one way we enter its wisdom.
Now think
about the father in the parable: he
is scandalously stupid on one level but equally holy on another. First of all, after his child tells him he
wishes he were dead, he not only sells off part of the family farm, he gives in
to the greedy little ingrate. And then,
after years of fear, disappointment and shame, when this loser decides to
schlep back home, the father runs out to greet him, interrupts his lame excuses
and restores him to a place of honor and love in the family by throwing him a
feast. Now, there isn’t a parent among
us who wouldn’t turn over heaven and earth for their children when they’re in
trouble, but let’s get real: NONE of us
would be so extravagant with our wounded and manipulative child as the father
in this story – and, of course, that is the point: “Jesus is introducing
people to the relational logic of the kingdom of God that runs contrary to and
way beyond the legal logic of the world.” (David Lohse)
Some of us find our way into this
story through the father – whose heart is broken, who aches to forgive his
broken child and who gives shape and form to the grace of God that is beyond
our imagination – for this, too is part of the complicated wisdom of the Lord
whose ways are not our ways and whose thoughts are not our thoughts.
And then
the oldest child – the so-called “good one” – who is every bit as complicates
as the other two in this parable:
sure he goes along with his father in breaking up the farm so he’s not a
total innocent, but look: mostly this
guy is right. He’s right about his loser
brother, he’s right about his own actions, he’s right about the “ridiculously
permissive” nature of his father and he’s right about the social consequences
of this whole mess. And here’s the
bigger tragedy: he chooses being right
rather than being in loving relationship with his father and brother. As one scholar put it this decision ships him
off to a far and distant land, too – the land or resentment and loneliness.
And without belaboring the point, I
know I’ve spent time in that sad and distant place – and you probably have,
too.
Three characters in a story, each one
speaks something true about experiences we have all shared and each one leads
us to confront the grace of God that is simultaneously blessed, complicated,
challenging and life-changing. These are
people and stories we know – we’ve lived them – and just to be clear let’s try
an experiment: which of these three do
you resonate with right now? We may have
been each one of these players at different times, but who speaks to you today
– and why?
(Invite people to share out loud)
Conclusion
The gospel is a mystery – not a
reward, not a prize, neither compensation nor incentive – just pure gift and
total grace from God. We cannot earn it
or learn it, we cannot create it or replicate it: all we can do is receive it and give thanks
that at the core of creation and life is a love that is greater than our fear
and sin and greed. And when we turn back
to God – when we return home – God welcomes us as with a feast.
· One small child said that this story tells us that
“if you go away from God for awhile, when you come back, God rejoices.” In other words, our God “is a loving God who
gathers us in and rejoices when we are found.
The story also tells us something of the rhythm of God’s love: when something is lost, there is a search
until it is found and then there is celebration.
· Preacher Ann Howard put it like this: What if we learned to hear with a child's
ears in our adult lives? What if we came to trust again this sacred pattern?
Maybe, (as adults) we could toss out the old
metaphors for God that still lurk in the dark and dusty corners of our
religion: no more judge on a throne up in a faraway heaven, no more angry
landlord tossing Adam and Eve out of the garden, no god who requires blood
sacrifice, no more Santa Claus god who rewards the good and punishes the bad,
no more slot machine God that delivers if only we can strike the winning
combination.
Ever since the beginning of time, deep
within each and every one of us, THIS truth about God has been breathed into us
by the Holy Spirit: we may have
forgotten it, or buried it beneath shame, we may have run away from it to a sad
and distant land or even had it beaten out of us by the suffering that is all
too real in all of our lives. But like
Jesus reminded his first friends: the
kingdom of God is very near to each of you – and I believe it is still there
aching to come out. So as we give you a
few moments to digest this gospel truth in the quiet and safety of this place,
consider this true story.
Once
upon a time a couple had a three year old daughter and the mom was about to
give birth to their second child. The little three year old girl was really
excited about having a new baby brother or sister, and when the new baby got
home, the three-year old girl was absolutely insistent that she be permitted to
be in the baby's room with the baby alone and the door shut. Her parents were a
little bit nervous about this, but then they remembered that they had an intercom system, so they let the little
girl go into the room. When the door was shut, they ran to the intercom and when
they listened they heard the little girl say to the baby, "Tell me about
God. I've almost forgotten."
(Marcus Borg, The Heart of Christianity)
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