St. Thomas Evangelical Lutheran Church
3800 East Third Street
Bloomington, Indiana 47401
(812) 332-5252
Sermon for the Fourth Sunday in Lent (March 18, 2007)
Liturgical Color: Purple
Reverend Doctor Lyle McKee
"Extravagant Sacramental Grace"
Grace to you and peace from our loving God, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
The parable of the prodigal son is one of the best known parables in scripture, and you have no doubt heard many sermons on it. Interpretations have usually focused on one character or another, whether it be the prodigal son, the unforgiving older brother, or the forgiving father. What I'd like to do this morning is to provide three alternative ways of looking at this well-known story of joy over finding what was lost, as well as unexpected forgiveness.
First, one might view this as an allegory concerning Jews and Gentiles. We read this story from the gospel of Luke, whose purpose is, in part, to show that the message of the gospel is not only for the Jews. It is for the Gentiles and for every nation on the earth.
If we see the father as God, it is clear that God's love shows no preference for either brother. Each has his inheritance; each has his appropriate place in the household. The elder brother, representing the Jews in this way of interpreting Luke's parable, has labored longer in the household and has been faithful for years beyond those of the prodigal. Yet, the prodigal son, standing for the Gentile nations who have come late to the discovery of the one God, remains a beloved, honored, and forgiven son just as much as the one who has never strayed from the presence of the Father.
Certainly, Luke is telling both Jew and Gentile that the grace of God is for all, regardless of the accomplishments or sins to which each might point. No preference is given. The merciful love of God is universal, and all the protestations of the first-born will not remove a speck of the Father's love for the younger.
Such a view destroys nothing of the message of the parable. In fact, the communal interpretation permits us to apply it freely to any group or nation of people we might view as less deserving of God's grace then we. You see, the forbearance of the Father in the story is not directed only to the younger and prodigal son. It is no less applied to the elder and faithful brother, who nonetheless shows the marks of sin, even if they are more of character than of act. It calls us to judge and remove any and all prejudices we might hold against any group whatsoever. It calls us to love with the radical grace of God all of humanity and those caught up in all aspects of the human condition.
The second way to apply this parable is far and away the most popular. Rather than taking a communal approach, it uses the more modern and western tack of thinking in terms of individuals. It is more literal in that the story seems, on the surface, to be about a family and its struggles, tensions, failings, and journeys.
The questions asked are personal in this mode. With whom do you identify in the story? Are you more like the unforgiving older brother? Or are you more like the prodigal son? How have your actions kept you from feeling worthy, or made you feel specially worthy, of the love of your father and of God? Where does your life reflect the character defects of the older son, the sinful actions of the younger, or the extravagant forgiveness of the father? How can you be more like the prodigal in receiving grace, less like the elder brother in honoring grace in another, and more like the father in granting it?
These are the substance of most of the sermons I have heard, read, or written on the parable. And worthy they are for a lifetime of meditation. Indeed, if one or more of those questions got you thinking about how your relationships with others or with God might be improved, I encourage you to use them as the basis for prayer and reflection.
The third and final lens I suggest for us to use this morning in examining the parable of the prodigal son is that of the church. Now, I recognize that this one is perhaps least appropriate to the text itself. After all, if these are the words of Jesus and not of Luke alone, the church was yet to be, not having taken shape until after the resurrection. Still, there are so many useful ways of applying these words to our lives together in Christian community that I can't help but point out some of the possibilities to you. Do with it as you will.
Again, the view through this lens sees the father as God. But here, the sons merely represent different ways of coming to Christianity or of living it out. Perhaps you, as I did, came to the church as an infant through baptism. You too may have been raised to believe and never seriously or for long considered even the option of not believing, of not living in relationship to the Father-like the elder brother in the story. Perhaps your tendency too is to take that grace for granted or to guard it too closely.
You see, in the face of the elder brother, life may not have been that great for the prodigal; indeed, the elder brother may have been one of the reasons the younger brother left in the first place.
Rudyard Kipling, taking some liberties with the story, wrote:
My father glooms and advises me
My brother sulks and despises me
My mother catechises me
Till I want to go out and swear.
Society has given harsh judgment to sins of the flesh, while sins of the spirit — jealousy, anger, pride, harsh judgment — are hardly counted as sins at all; they are regarded as faults — unfortunate defects of the personality. Not so with Jesus. He never condones the sins of the flesh, but treats them with pity. Sins of the spirit he treats with withering denunciation. He says to the self-righteous "The tax collectors and harlots go to heaven before you." (Matthew 21:31). Taking the road of the elder brother and taking grace for granted has its pitfalls too.
Then again, you may have come haltingly and late to a discovery of the manifold grace of God, like the prodigal. You may have abused God's goodness for a time and come slowly to recognize that the love of God involves certain commitments and behaviors which honor the Father. And yet, God loves you no less than those who have been in the Church always.
The father, like the Church, best acts with absolute patience and grace, permitting absolute freedom and free will. Never pressuring or judging, only loving and welcoming.
The father makes no effort to stop the younger son when he is bent on making a fool of himself. He gives his son freedom as he asks. He does not force his love and care on his sons. Nor does God force love and care. We are sons and daughters, not puppets; still, freedom without discipline brings disaster.
A facetious version of the prodigal son's coming to himself has him left with three silk shirts. Because he had nowhere to leave them, he wore them all. He sold the top one, and came to the second one. Next he sold that, and came to the first one. When he sold that, he came to himself. When he came to himself, he said, "I'm going home."
Of course it's tongue-in-cheek, but there is truth here. When we're insulated by the security and protection of worldly goods, we tend to ignore the deeper needs of our life. When these coatings of insulation disintegrate, our minds tend to turn to ourselves, rather than our possessions.
Marie Antoinette, considered silly and frivolous and yet graceful and charming as well, added the final stroke of levity which ruined the old regime and brought on the blood and terrors of the French Revolution. She had always moved among the rich of Versailles; but when the revolution broke and her world came tumbling down, she turned out to be a strong, courageous woman. Versailles had never brought her to maturity. It took calamity. "Tribulation," she wrote in one of her later letters, "first makes one realize what one is." "Hitherto," said one of her biographers, "she had played with life, but never wrestled with it." She who had lived like a fool came to her end like a queen.
The prodigal had lived like a fool, but in the face of calamity he became a son in his father's house again. It's a path many take into the church.
Regardless of our way of coming into the God's house — the Church, the parable of the prodigal son depicts the specific ways that we are to portray God's love. Did you notice what the father does upon glimpsing him coming from afar. He doesn't wait or stand in confusion. He forgets any sense of propriety and runs to greet him, filled with love and compassion.
God and the church do not merely wait passively for people to share this community; we stand with open arms and run out to help along any who are trying to find their way. And when they arrive, whether as infants or adults, we greet them as did this father-by wrapping them in the finest of garments. All are clothed in the robe of baptism.
Once greeted, the church prepares a feast as did this loving father, a banquet like no other — a foretaste of the eternal feast to come. We call it, of course, Holy Communion, where all are welcome, regardless of their original home or native nation. All of God's people share in the feast.
And when there is dissension — when one sister or brother accuses another or one claims some special privilege — as did the older brother, what is the role of the church? It is simply to do as the father does in the parable-gently and simply to remind the one who feels that they have a grievance that their place has never been taken from them and that God's love for them has not dimmed at all. They remain a beloved, integral, honored, and forgiven part of the community.
God's joy rests with all, and joy for one dead now living, one lost now found, is irrepressible. It is a joy in which all may share. Indeed it is a joy to which this season of Lent leads, for one who was to be lost to us will be found again, and one who is to die for us will live again.
On the day of Easter, there will not be, and ought not be, any bounds to our rejoicing. For on that day we celebrate an extravagant and sacramental grace.
May the peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep our hearts
and minds through faith in Christ Jesus our Lord, unto eternal
life. Amen.
