Here we are, nearing the end of lent. One of the
lenten practices that I've taken up is preaching on the Psalms in the
lectionary, rather than the gospel passage. It has been a good practice, and I
have been stretched. Another of my lenten practices, though not publicly
announced, was going to be to write more. Alas, I have not been able to work
that into my crazy schedule. BUT, I was thankful to have been asked to
speak/preach/whatever at another church for their Thursday night Lenten service
last night. They have been focusing on the story of the
"Prodigal Son" as told in Luke's gospel. They asked me to speak from
the perspective of the people in the countryside, the community. So many times,
I've read the passage and put myself in the place of the younger son, the older
son, and the father; but never in the place of the neighbors. It was a fun
exercise. Here's what I wrote:
I don’t know if any of you have been to first century
Palestine, but I hear it’s a different world than this one in which we live. In
a Jewish community such as this one, people held tightly to codes of honor and
shame, and to the demarcation of clean and unclean. This son, this selfish one,
who had dishonored his father by having the audacity to ask for his inheritance
early, by walking away from his home and family, and heaven forbid, traveling
to a foreign land <keep in mind that in this context, foreign does not imply
exotic as it might for us here today, rather it implies other, different,
wrong, and scary>. This boy might as well have SHAME and UNCLEAN
written on his forehead and any other exposed part of him, so that good,
observant Jewish people might know that if they see him, they should run the
other way. Jesus sets this story up to let us know that this son has committed
the worst kind of sin, against God, against his family, and against his
community. Today, we hear the story from the perspective of a neighbor, a
member of the community who was invited to join in the celebration…
It’s not often that somebody just throws a party around
here, right out of the blue. So imagine my surprise, when one of the young
servants of the rich guy down the street came running down the road shouting,
“come one, come all, it’s a celebration. The master has ordered the fatted calf
to be killed. It’s a party to beat all parties. Gather your wives, your
daughters, your sons, and even your servants, and come join in the
celebration!”
Well, who can resist such an invitation? So I did it, I
gathered all the members of my household and a couple of our best skins of
wine, and off we went, heading to the party, all the while wondering what could
possibly warrant such an extravagant, unplanned celebration. There were many
people already gathered when we arrived, and the house was all a buzz, so it
was a while before we saw him.
He looked different, more worldly, less proper, he LOOKED
like a foreigner. What a disgrace! I once considered him an excellent prospect
to marry my youngest daughter. Now I see him as a threat to our community. I
heard he worked among pigs, for God’s sake, the worst kind of unclean there is,
you can’t just wash that off. It is a filth that goes all the way to the soul.
Only a miracle from God can cleanse the soul of one who has strayed so far.
I find it hard to celebrate, difficult to loosen up. The
music was lively and people were dancing. What was wrong with them? The wine
flowed freely, and the food...oh, the food. Killing the fatted calf? This is a
luxury reserved for only the most decadent occasion. It’s something big,
something worthy of a gathering of the whole community.
Oh, I get it. It’s like when a woman is caught in
adultery, and we take her into the town square and everybody comes out to watch
and participate in her punishment. There’s a place, alongside the road on the
way into town, where you can pick up the best rocks. I didn’t realize that’s
what this was. I didn’t pick up any stones along the way. That’s ok, we’ll just
watch, there are a lot of people here, I’m sure others came prepared. I’ll just
stand back a little with my family, taking the time to make sure that the
lesson really sinks in with them. You just don’t dishonor your father, and take
off into distant lands, squandering away his money, bringing dishonor to his
name, living a lewd and careless life. There are consequences, and today, we
will witness those consequences. I’m glad the family saw fit to feed the crowd
first, that was an added touch of class that we don’t usually experience at
these, um…events.
After a while, when it seems like most of the guests have
arrived, the master of the house came to the center of the house and asked
everybody to gather around. He had been absent for a while, some say that he
was outside consoling his oldest son. Maybe he was embarrassed, feeling like
his own honor had been stripped away, a sort of guilt by
association. Or perhaps he loved his brother just enough, that he was
distraught about his upcoming public punishment. Whatever it was, that boy
never did come in and join the party.
So, here we are, gathered in the great room, the father
calls his son over to him. It wasn’t until now that I noticed that he is
wearing one of his father’s robes, his sandals, and even a family ring. I have
to say, I’ve never seen this done in quite this way. It reminds me of the
stories that I learned in synagogue growing up. Who were those guys…Shem and
Japheth, took a robe and covered their father’s nakedness to regain his honor
and save face for the family. But wait, there are other stories about covering
nakedness that I recall, that aren’t so much about damage control, as they are
about bestowing honor as if it is deserved.
Yes, it’s coming to me, I recall now that in Exodus, there
are elaborate instructions for making a robe and adornments for Moses to put on
Aaron, to show that he is chosen, anointed, ordained. I’m just not sure that
story applies here. What was the other one? Oh that’s right! It was the prophet
Ezekiel, speaking as God to God’s people, saying I see that you are old enough
to be loved, to be in relationship with me, and I wrap my robe around you, to
cover you and make you mine.
I have to say I don’t really understand what is going on
here. The actions that are being taken, the words that are being used, are
familiar. But they aren’t the words and actions of punishment and shame. They
are the words and actions of forgiveness, grace, mercy, and the unconditional
love of a father for his child. The words that father spoke still echo in my
head today. “For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost
and is found. Let us celebrate!”
The words play over and over again in my head, along with
the words I spoke myself. Only a miracle of God can cleanse the soul of one who
has strayed so far. Dead and alive again. Lost and now found. A miracle of God.
A soul that has been washed clean. A broken family that has been made whole.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow!
I learned a lesson that day that has been with me ever
since. My God, the One whose laws I strive to follow, the One whose praises I
sing, and to whom I cry out in my time of need; THAT God, MY God, does indeed
work miracles. How could I not celebrate with shouts of joy and a dance of
praise? You and I, who are sometimes lost, are found, over and over again. You
and I, who wander off into the land of the dead, failing to live in the
abundance and simplicity of the life that has been given to us, are brought
back to life, over and over again. You and I, whose souls get dingy and dirty
from the influences of the world around us, have been washed clean, each and
every time we have chosen to turn back to the light.
I am changed, I am made new. These things that were foreign
to me, grace and mercy, compassion and unconditional love; they are contagious!
Not only did I feel a change in myself that day, but I saw it in my neighbors. This
display of forgiveness, this restoration, has given us all a renewed sense of
hope and expectation.
I pray that it will catch on for you too, there is nothing
more glorious than celebrating with God and neighbor the victory of life over
death, wholeness over brokenness, salvation over shame. May God’s Spirit so
fill your heart with grace and love, that there is no longer room for judgment
and division. May you live today in the knowledge that God’s mercy can and will
lift you and ANYBODY else who desires, out of the pit of sin and despair, to be
restored to your rightful place of honor, a beloved child of God! This is my
story, and this is my prayer. Amen.
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