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.

Questions, Questions, all we have are Questions

 Matthew 21:23-32

          I’ve performed a few weddings in recent months, and I have to tell you that I get a little squeamish over them. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mind performing the ceremony. I enjoy getting to know the couple, hearing their hopes and dreams for a life together, listening to the story of what brought them to this point. I am happy to be the one to speak a word of God on the blissful day, and remind the couple of the perfect example of love that Christ gives us.

          It’s not the sermon that really gets me, nor dealing with nervous and sometimes frantic brides or bridegrooms, or teary-eyed parents; neither is it calming frayed nerves, or reassuring the couple that even if the flower girl and ring bearer should both stumble and fall, the day will still be magical and in the end, they will still be married.

Rather, what really gives me the shivers comes when I hear myself saying, “By the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife” – or words to that effect. I get squeamish because – really? By the authority vested in me? Whose bright idea was that? If I answer “the state” I have to question their authority to grant me authority! They don’t even know who I am! If I answer the church, then I wonder how and why the church has granted me this power. Is performing a wedding a civil action or a religious one? Is the simple act of blessing a marriage authoritative enough to make it stick?  “Authority” feels like too great a word for me.

          The word “authority” conveys different things to different people but generally connotes power, right or ability. And today’s gospel text begins with this question posed to Jesus about authority. While the chief priests and scribes question where Jesus’ power comes from, Jesus know their question is misplaced. Jesus has authority because of who he is, not where he’s from.

          For Christians, the words authority and Jesus go together. We confess that we believe Jesus is the Word of God made flesh, and as such has all the power and authority of God. We believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of Man. We trust that God, in Jesus, has redeemed the world and we have faith that God’s judgment for the world rests on the cross of Christ. God, the creator and giver of all things, the one to whom everything in heaven and earth and under the earth belongs, gives Jesus authority. Authority about which Jesus is never squeamish. Jesus is the authority of God incarnate, and has come to take away the sins of the world in God’s merciful act of salvation. To us, Jesus’ authority is obvious. Or is it?

          Do we sometimes question if what the scriptures tell us is true is, in fact, true? They can sometimes be confusing. Do we view the scriptures as the authoritative Word of God or do they simply convey with authority, the character and desire of God? We hope that our trust, our faith, and our believing in Christ is not in vain. We hope that Jesus’ words of forgiveness and redemption are authoritative and absolute. But sometimes, just sometimes, don’t we doubt? What if we’ve got it all wrong?

          It is doubt that reigns whenever we try to take our ultimate redemption into our own hands. It is doubt working when we think through our own understanding and works we might earn our salvation, that if we think the right things and do enough good that we’ll be okay with God.

          There are times when we all wonder if the world might have a point, that it is ridiculous to believe in a virgin birth, and preposterous to think that God would be born as a human baby conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit. We fumble around when we try to explain how God could allow his own Son to die a despicable death on the cross.

          Yes, doubt is a part of our experience, and there are times when we confess with our lips belief in Jesus Christ and his power to save while we still harbor doubt in our hearts that this grace is a reality.

          The chief priests and the scribes of the temple don’t find the authority of Jesus to be obvious. Although Jesus invites them to believe in him, they don’t get it. They don’t understand who Jesus really is, and they don’t understand where he has come from or believe that what he promises is true.

          They try to trip him up by asking Jesus questions, because they don’t trust his word, his authority, or the power he seems to have. Have you ever noticed though, that although Jesus actually gets asked a lot of questions throughout the gospel narratives, Jesus doesn’t give many answers? As is often the case, in the text for today, Jesus answers the religious leaders’ question with a question of his own – and then follows with a parable.

          It helps if we put this story in context.  In the preceding verses of this chapter of the gospel of Matthew, Jesus’ has just made his triumphal entry into Jerusalem while crowds went ahead of him shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” The text tells us, “when he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil asking, ‘Who is this?’”

Not long after, Jesus goes to the temple and drives out all who are selling and buying, and turning this holy place of prayer into what he refers to as a “den of robbers.” The blind and the lame come to him there and are cured and children continue to cry out, “Hosanna to the Son of David.” And the chief priests and the elders of the temple became angry. The leaders of the Jewish community and the Roman officials all became afraid. And who could blame them? Jesus came in and made quite a stir.

The next day, Jesus curses a fig tree and then Jesus speaks to his disciples of the power of faith in his name. The conversation conveyed in the gospel passage today occurs in the time between Jesus’ triumphal entry and his death on the cross.

Jesus has gone to the temple to teach. Here he is approached by these angry temple leaders, who are determined to get rid of him. As I said, Jesus doesn’t just anger them, he frightens them. The rising, significant tension between Jesus and the Jerusalem leadership is coming to a head.

What the leaders don’t understand is that Jesus’ authority is based in who he is, rather than who or what he can prove himself to be. Robert Farrar Capon writes, “This is not something he can justify to their satisfaction. He is asking them to believe in him; they, at best, are trying to decide whether they can find room for him in their minds. And because Jesus knows there is no way of ending such a standoff, he simply contents himself with parrying their thrusts. In the face of their questions, he continually frustrates them by being what he always was, a fox, a rebel, a bad boy who refuses to answer except with questions of his own.” And by so doing, he puts them in a bind.”

There is no good way out of the fix the leadership find themselves in if they answer the question Jesus poses about John the Baptist and they know it, so they say, “We do not know.” And Jesus being Jesus, then tells a parable. Once again, while Jesus doesn’t directly answer any of their questions through the telling of this parable, he does give glimpses of what the kingdom of God is like and how God, and king and ruler of the kingdom, operates.

We have this story of the two sons and as usual, it is not as clear cut as it might at first seem. After describing how the two sons respond to their father when we sends them out into the vineyard, Jesus poses the question about which one did the will of the father. The response he then gives to the leaders’ answer is perplexing at first glance. But as he frequently does through these parables, Jesus gives us much to reflect on regarding God’s salvific love and life in the kingdom of God.

The fact of the matter is that both sons have done something right and both have done something wrong. Both in a sense, have shamed the father, in a culture that is heavily bound by honor and shame. The first son seemed amiable and respectful enough in his first response to his father’s request, but then shamed the father by not keeping his word and not doing what his father asked. The second son said “no” to his father and with that response shamed his father out of the gate. Later, however, he had a change of heart, and did the work asked of him.

Both sons have made the father angry. Both sons need a change of heart. Yet the father still loves them both. The father still reaches out to both. Is either beyond the reach and scope of the father’s love? How does the father judge either son? 

             We hear this text as a parable about judgment. But we see in it that the bad decisions of neither son was able to keep him from his father’s love. As a parable about the Kingdom of God, Jesus promises us here that none of our wrong or right decisions determine our ultimate outcome. God’s grace causes God’s judgment to be borne out on the cross, in Jesus, who takes on all our sin and shame, and promises life to all who believe. Jesus tells the temple leaders “even the tax collectors and prostitutes will enter the kingdom of God ahead of you.” Here again we see the reversals that God in Jesus brings: the first shall be last and the last, first.

          Through our baptism, we are each welcomed in God’s grace. By Christ’s authority we are transformed from sinner to saint, from poor to rich and from beggar to honored guest at the feast of God’s delight.

          We are given the grace to believe, as endless life begins in this kingdom of God, life which cannot be taken away. We are given gifts to work on behalf of the kingdom, but it is never these actions, no matter how noble, that earn us God’s love and mercy. God has already made that determination on behalf of the world. Our doubts don’t condemn us, and our works don’t save us. All who believe have the power to become the children of God, and God, the gracious merciful father has already forgiven us and assured us a place at the table. That, my friends, is very good news indeed.