Sunday, March 10, 2013

Lent 4 - The Prodigal Son


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 looks like.

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 – or, as Paul says to the Corinthians, to be ambassadors for Christ.

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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