Let’s talk about the
difference between a parable and a fable, beloved of God. I think there’s a
need to begin to distinguish between the two; in a great deal of my own reading
and listening to the message out there, there is a serious deficiency in
telling the difference between a parable and a fable.
There are lots of
fables. Fables are those pithy little
moral stories popularized by Aesop with titles like “The Ant and the
Grasshopper” or “The Tortoise and the Hare”; that end with lines like, “slow
and steady wins the race,” or “a fool and his money are soon parted.” There are a couple of others that people
often think they’re in the bible, and almost sound like they should be: spare the rod and spoil the child; and God only helps those who help themselves,
God never gives you more than you can handle - but they’re not. But a fable isn’t a parable.
You repeat a fable. You tell it over again and again. But you bear witness to a parable, because a
parable is a story that forces you and those you share it with, to consider
your own life and situation. That’s been
tuned by decades of preaching into an urging to place yourselves in the parable
you’re hearing. So, in today’s parable
of the prodigal son, you’re encouraged to consider: am I the father? The
younger son? The elder?
I think there’s a problem
there – and I can’t speak for you, but I don’t know that I’ve lived as
interesting a life as the younger son.
In fact, my like has been pretty tame so far, compared to “devouring”
someone’s estate with prostitutes. I
think that, like any Christian, I can see bits and pieces of myself in the
younger son – I know my own heart to know the nasty things that lurk in there –
but, Jesus uses this HUGE example of the sons’ bad behaviour, and moves right
on out of my category. At the same time,
I’m not the strongly judgement elder son who believes that he needs to work to
earn the love and blessings of his Father.
And I’m definitely not the Father, forgiving and reconciling.
But what if instead of
looking closer at that parable of Jesus, I was take a step back and look at it
from a wider angle. What if we’re not
one of the main players? What if, in
fact, we took the position of one of those people in the crowd to whom Jesus is
telling the parable, or as one of the servants in the field who are watching
all this unfold. So the parable doesn’t
become about us, but about something we’re witnessing.
It has to do with the power
of the parable. Why does Jesus tell the
story? How many characters are
there? Now, take a step back, and see the
crowd to whom Jesus is telling the story.
They’re listening. They’re
onlookers. They’re like the servants or
slaves in the field: no immediate involvement, but with a glimpse into what
life in the kingdom
of God
That’s kind of like our own
lives, isn’t it? We don’t – we can’t –
always play out the high drama of the picture Jesus paints for us. But we are peripherally part of other
people’s lives, moving in and out of their story as the time or season changes. You all know people whom you see more at
certain times of year than others, they move in and out of your life, just as
you move in, and out, of theirs.
We’re in the season of Lent,
and characteristic of this season in that the purpose of our actions (if we’re
giving something up), and our very being, is to bear witness to the
gospel. In some Christian traditions,
the idea is to show off one’s own piety.
Lutherans aren’t really like that; in a nutshell, if we do things we
don’t do them to show off that we’re good; we do them to show off that God is
good. So, we have some members who head
out to the Bissel Centre for this weekend.
Some do it monthly. But ideally,
it’s not supposed to be about us. It’s
to point at the kingdom
of God
Ambassadors bear witness to
the values and beliefs of their country and represent those abroad. The movie ‘Argo’ that recently came out
captures events that happened in Iran in the late 1970s, when 6 Americans took
refuge at the residence of the Canadian ambassador to Tehran. It’s a great movie, but it’s taken some
criticism for the way that the Canadian ambassador is presented:
stereotypically. He’s polite, nervous,
and brave because the situation calls for it.
In reality, he represented the values that he held dear in the face of
great danger, uncertainty, and likely death if discovered.
So in there lies the reality
of the parable: not that it’s there for us to be in, but as something to which
we can bear witness. When we bear
witness of the stories in these parables we are bearing witness to Christ. They are not just there as teachings for
Christians: they teach people to be Christians.
We can tell parables of our
own, as well: stories of lives that have been changed. Maybe they’re our own lives; but I think more
often we see the lives of others change.
Those lives change as people see that there is nothing in the world that
will separate them from the love of God in Christ Jesus.
Is it easy to see those
stories? Not really. Not at all.
It is never easy to bear witness to messy human drama: the younger son
leaving. The elder son storming
off. But you remain witnesses to the
Father’s great love.
As Paul writes, you are
witnesses; ambassadors for Christ. Be
that with honour. There is not much beyond
that which you are called to do; do so with honour, and you will see the Father
welcoming home his children with open arms, because he watches for them all the
time. You do not labour in vain.
The prodigal son is one of
the great stories of our faith, and I think it’s necessary because even in the
early church I think the majority of believers did not have the grand narrative
of conversion. The parable of the
prodigal son is a witness to the Father’s love when the witnesses need it.
Christianity is flooded with
stories of grand conversions and works of God.
Yet throughout my life and profession I honestly don’t see many of
those; though I’ve met many who exaggerate.
Yet, the one thing we share in common is baptism: the gift of God’s
grace, to us. I’ll leave you with a story of my own:
A few years ago, before I
came to St. Matthew’s I was in a call process with another church, and it was
really odd. I was given a questionnaire
to complete, and one of the first questions was, can you describe when, and under what circumstances you became a
Christian. I was at a loss. I have no memory, no recollection of life
outside of the church. So, I filled in
my baptismal date: October 4, 1981.
A few days later I got a
response back from the chair of the call committee, with the comment, “are you
making a joke when you say that you accepted Jesus into your life when you were
a month old?” Now, that’s an odd
question for a Lutheran call committee to ask.
So I waited a bit and thought out my response:
No, sir. But
that’s when Jesus accepted me into his.
In all you do, be ambassadors
for Christ. Bear witness to the love of
the Father for the child who is found – and also, witness to the love for the
son who remained. You have been welcomed
into the family and the Father has rejoiced over you – all are welcomed into
the kingdom with celebration.
Let the people of God say
amen.
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