Many Stories, One Voice

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

            As we read the gospel this morning, you voiced the parts of the two brothers – the younger son, who went away for a time and then returned to the homestead, perhaps only seeking survival, but receiving grace far beyond his imagining;  and the elder son had stuck around and unfailingly persisted in trying to do the right thing, consistently receiving all that he needed all along, but never really appreciating that fact.

I wonder how reading both parts felt to you? Which voice felt most authentic to you – most like your own experience, most like the character you can relate to?

Most of us have probably heard this parable many times. Therefore, the word, “prodigal,” has become part of our lexicon, and it has come to mean something rather specific to us. So, when we hear someone referred to as a prodigal, or even refer to themselves as such, what do we think of? What assumptions do we make about a person who is a “prodigal”?

Very often, the prodigal is one who has turned away from and rejected familial relationships. The prodigal is one who seems to have moved the family system to a place of irrevocable brokenness. (You know the saying, “A mother is only as happy as her least happy child? It goes for the entire system.) We’ve each probably known someone like that at some time in our lives. Perhaps we’ve been that person.

The story of the Prodigal Son may strike some of us uncomfortably close to home, because there is some aspect of the story that we are living out today.  Someone is lost; someone is missing; someone, while still living, is as good as dead.

Sadly, for some who are locked into situations like this, hurts suffered have never healed and now feel beyond healing – a life has ended, and with it opportunity for reconciliation may be passed. Instead, a scar resides deep within.

Prodigals are created  when someone has “fallen from grace” through decisions made, alternative alliances forged, (like falling in with the wrong people), suffering failures of our own making, or abandoning the relationships and norms that surround them.

If you have ever been a part of a prodigal story, regardless of which character you have been, know that it is with sincere empathy for each of the characters here, that we approach this story today.

While it may be easy to place ourselves somewhere in the story, this parable does not stand alone, but is part of a larger narrative in which Jesus responds to those challenging him by telling three stories that center on the experiences of loss and grace.

The situation is this: the Pharisees and scribes were Kvetching about the social activities of Jesus. He has been spending time with, and even eating with tax collectors and sinners. (Imagine that!) He has been hanging out with outcasts and undesirables. (Oh, my!)

It might be really satisfying for us right now if Jesus just set the record straight and put them in their places.

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

As Jesus moves from parable to parable, 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, and when she finds it celebrates with great joy and wild abandon.

Then he tells about a 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 this huge bash given in honor of the most unlikely of recipients: a kid that was not simply lost, hadn’t just wandered away, but has behaved in the most egregious and outrageous manner, demanding an early pay-out on his inheritance, and then abandoning his father and all that connects him to this place.

What makes this story so interesting and how over-the-top all of the characters behave.

• The father, rather than setting his son straight to begin with, gives in to his demands, and hands over the goods.
• The son then squanders everything and finds himself not just in a bad situation, but destitute – literally in a life-threatening condition.
• The place where he now resides goes through a famine and not one person will offer him assistance.
• He finally takes a thoroughly demeaning job but even then isn’t even given so much as the carob pods which he has to feed to the pigs to eat himself. No one there cares anything about him or his welfare.
• Finally he decides to return to his father and appeal to his compassion and hope for at least the same as the very least of his father’s hired hands would receive, which is more than he has now.
• Then, the most ridiculous thing of all happens: before he can even say a word, while he still just a speck on the horizon, his father runs to him, overjoyed, with arms outstretched.

It’s all quite scandalous, really, but only the elder son in the story seems to know that. Of course, he has his own gripe, because not only has the father behaved shamefully weak and gullible, in his overzealous rush to welcome home his boy, the elder son has felt totally disrespected.

Here this brother of his so cruelly and uncaringly cut himself out of the family, yet is given the hero’s welcome, while here he stands, the polar opposite – faithful, dutiful, hard-working, loyal son – the son who has slaved and tried so hard to always do the right thing. He is flabbergasted to see his brother receive what it is he himself has always wanted – recognition, favor, the party!

This, my friends, is a story of extremes. The father’s over-the-top forgiveness and love for his sons is book-ended by their outrageous behavior.

The thing is, in our reading of this story, while the words and actions of one son may have resonated more than the words and actions of the other son today, many of us may have found ourselves in the shoes of both sons at one time or another in our lives.

The point that this parable makes is poignant for whatever your story might be. There is genius in that, because the truth is that God’s grace is every bit as scandalous and ridiculous as the picture we get of the father in our story. And it doesn’t matter which brother’s actions reflect our own, God’s love is big enough and God’s grace sufficient enough for us all.

The story speaks as much to our lives as it did to the lives of both Gentile and Jew, Pharisee and outcast, sinner and rule-follower, prodigal and elder-brother of Jesus’ day. And the point Jesus makes is just as timely for us today as it was for those for whom these stories were originally written.

It boils down to this: in God’s economy, there is plenty of grace to go around, and God spreads it over each of us as we have need. It is God’s desire that none of the sheep who go astray be lost forever; that the coin that found its way into a corner somewhere is just as precious and necessary to God’s kingdom as any other coin in the purse; and that the gospel is for everybody – rule follower and prodigal alike.

That is indeed good news for all of us. For those of us who seemingly hit rock bottom before we realized that we were invited to the great feast, and sometimes still feel like we’re dangerously close to the bottom of the pit, God especially reaches out to you in love and forgiveness. God wants you to know that you are welcome and cherished, and you are, through the mercy of Jesus Christ, forgiven.

For those of us who have been around here for years, and for those who just started attending church or coming to the table yesterday, God’s grace embraces you equally; you belong here and are equally members of the Body of Christ. For those of us who struggle to get through each day and for those who really have ourselves all pulled together, God love and grace are poured out on you in sufficient quantities to for exactly the need you have. For those who can quote scripture chapter and verse and those who have difficulty distinguishing the Old Testament from the New, God knows your hearts in equal measure and has already surrounded you with God’s compassionate love. You belong to him.  

The good news of the Gospel of Jesus Christ is that it is for everyone. All are invited to the table and in God’s perfect grace it is large enough for us all.

God’s love does not discriminate, it transforms. It doesn’t matter where you have come from or where you are today – in Jesus Christ, God’s grace covers you. The good news of God’s scandalous, ridiculous grace is for those who have always been the straight arrows and for those who have followed the crooked path. And since God’s love enfolds every cherished person, how can our welcome do any less?

God rejoices in the person God has created you to be. It doesn’t matter the color of your skin, the language you speak, or the country from which you or your ancestors derived, your gender, your age, or your sexuality. God’s love enfolds you.

As we read this parable, we acknowledge that we need to die daily to sin and rise to new life in Christ, which is the gift of our baptism. But, only when we are able to let go of our resentment, judgment of the other, bitterness and hatred may we learn what new life and new creation truly mean; it is the radical, scandalous, and ridiculous love of God and God’s eternal and unending grace that we receive through Jesus that will finally, when all is said and done, free us from our own lost paths and need for justification.  

My brothers and sisters in Christ, prodigals all are we. May we live in gratitude that even in his final act from the cross, when he forgave another prodigal, the criminal beside him, Jesus showed us how unfathomably scandalous and huge is the grace of God. Praise be to God! Amen.

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.