"The
Homecoming"
Luke:15:1-3,11b-32
You know, Christians - and
I'm speaking in general terms of course - you can figure out whether it applies
to you or not - but Christians in general, have gotten a very bad reputation as
far as God is concerned. And I mean it exactly that way. I think God is very
disappointed with most of his children. Too many have left the Gospel far
behind and embraced what
Several points are commonly made from this story of the Prodigal Son. Some say its about repentance and the need to return to God. But that's not what it's about. Others say it's about the graciousness of God in forgiving sinners. Again, close, but no cigar. Neither of those themes really hits the nail on the head when it comes to this passage.
If you want to get to the root of this story, you have to first remember who it is being addressed to. Jesus is talking to the Pharisees. In the story, they represent the older brother - the good boy who never left home. He is the true center of the story! That brings us to the point of the story. A Pharisee could never be accused of being irreligious or immoral. Religion was his life's work. He spent his life trying to separate himself from evil as wheat is separated from chaff. His feeling was, "you can't be too careful when dealing with sin!" So he kept himself away from anything that even had the appearance of a blemish about it. He was so careful that he even build a kind of extra "hedge" around it, with the idea that, if he didn't break the hedge, he wouldn't run the risk of trampling the law. If the law said to remember the sabbath, he wouldn't lift a finger on the sabbath; if it said to give God a tithe, he would even tithe the crust of his bread. If it said to stay away from things that were unclean, he would even separate himself from those who might cause the appearance of uncleanliness. There were even a group of rabbis who, when in public, would wear sacks over their heads so that they wouldn't see a woman and possibly be tempted. It's obvious why they called them, "bleeding rabbis!"
A lot of Christians today would agree with that approach - stay away from
sin; stay away from the possible causes of sin – stay away from even the
appearance of sin. Live by the Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule, and
perhaps throw up a bunch of additional blocks to sin as well. You can never be
too careful. But that's not the way that Jesus lived. And that's not the way
that he means for his people to live. Pharisees, Jesus pointed out, have a very closed attitude toward sinners - one that too many
Christians share. They looked down, not only on deliberate transgressors, but
also on those who had made bad decisions, those who were unlike them, those who
were non-Jews - and even many other Jews. Jewish men had a prayer that they
used to say when entering the synagogue: "I thank thee Lord that thou hast
not made me a sinner, a Gentile, or a woman!" But Jesus associated with
and welcomed all these: women, tax collectors, Gentiles, Samaritans, sinners -
the whole vast array on non-kosher people. In fact, he told them that the
Jesus saw God more as a physician than as a cosmic policeman. His embrace, he said, has the power to change and heal, his love has the power to bind up our brokenness. His generosity isn't something that is earned - but a free gift - a gift that changes us.
We are uncomfortable with that. Even the church, throughout the ages, has tried to limit God's generosity. We demanded that people do penance- that they earn their forgiveness. We limited entrance to communion. We've decided that some people can't even be buried in our cemeteries, as if they will defile the dead. I don't know how many times I've been asked by people to give a good old "fire and brimstone" sermon. People like the law. They don't care much for the Gospel - the good news of God's love for the undeserving. We want to separate the sheep from the goats, assuming that we have nothing in common with "those people. "The Older Brother, at the end of our story, keeps calling his younger brother, "this son of yours." But his father gently reminds him that this is "this your brother." We don’t understand that we are bound to our brothers and sisters both in judgment and in grace.
So Jesus confronts the Pharisees, and the Pharisaic in us. The judgment that God declares is not a condemnation of sinners - of those who transgress the law. They know who they are. They are the easy ones to win back. They will "come to themselves." They just need to remember who they are – they just need to be reminded that they have a Father waiting for them who loves them, and who calls them to something better. They have a natural need and desire to return home.
No - the problem is with the righteous - those who feel that they are "owed" something by God. Those who like to set up barriers, who think that they are somehow better than others. Those who refuse to forgive – and insist that God not forgive either. Those who refuse to acknowledge that the ground is level beneath the cross. Those who are all too anxious to send others to hell, and claim heaven for themselves. What they don't realize, Jesus says, is that the barriers they set up also block them from God's grace. Whatever barriers we put up - those barriers that divide us from one another - also become barriers between us and God, because it is in the "least" one in our eyes that we meet God's grace; it is in them that we meet the Christ who saves us.
Those are difficult words for us to hear, because there is some Pharisee in all of us. When I was a kid, race was important. If a person was black, they had to prove that they weren't lazy, or maybe even a criminal. A black person was always looked at skeptically. Sex was important. It was assumed that a woman knew more about mothering than about business. Class was important. It was assumed that if a person was poor, they were lazy or stupid, and content just to sponge off of the government. The list goes on and on until, finally, it includes almost everyone - except the few that are like me.
Notice that Jesus, in this story, makes no apologies for the prodigal. He squandered his father's hard-earned money. He was arrogant. He didn't deserve a thing from his father - not even the right to be a servant in his father's house. The brother, we would think, has every right to be angry with his father in the way he fawned over this poor excuse of a son.
The telling moment is the conversation between the Father and the older son. "The problem," he tells him, "is that you see what you wish to see. You see a low-life, a son not worthy to be given the time of day. Someone you are not willing to even acknowledge as your brother. I see a son of mine who was lost, but now is found; a son that was dead, but has been made alive to me."
In the end, it is the older brother - the righteous son - who is estranged from his Father. And we have to ask ourselves if we are that older brother, about what price our estrangement from our brothers and sisters costs us. Is it worth it to feel better than someone else, if it costs us our relationship with our heavenly Father? Is the price of not forgiving, not welcoming, not loving one another, worth that?
We need new hearts. We need a new perspective - not only on evil, but also on God’s reaction in the face of it. Lent reminds us that God does not destroy evil, but suffers for the sake of the lost, taking on himself the burden of our sins. That is what he also calls us to do - to be recreated into his likeness, to take up the cross and follow, to bear one another's burdens - even the burden of one another's sin. Only compassion can heal. Only love can overcome the barriers between us. Only God's loving Spirit can make us alive again to one another. But if we are willing, if we truly desire God and his will, if our hearts are open to one another, to the possibility of forgiveness and reconciliation - then, Oh! What a wonderful homecoming party is in store for us!