A Sermon for the Fourth Sunday in Lent
The Rev. Patricia A. Gillespie
Joshua 4:19-24; 5:9-12
Psalm 34
2 Corinthians 5:17-21
Luke 15:11-32
I have a computer that can do the most amazing things with just the touch of one key. All those function keys. Keys to move the action around the screen. The ‘Alt' and ‘'Ctrl" keys that make ordinary letter keys do astonishing things. The big "Enter" key that causes most of the action. Keys that can take you to the "End" and back "Home" again. But the most amazing key looks relatively insignificant -- the "Delete key." It's really the most powerful of all because it can get rid of almost anything.
Kinda like God. "Take it all to Jesus!" preachers shout. "Leave it at the foot of the cross!" Our pain, our sins, our shame, our waste of the gifts that God has given us. Hit the Jesus key and they are all deleted.
"The LORD said to Joshua, ‘Today I have rolled away from you the disgrace of Egypt.'" Zap. Delete. Gone. The Israelites are literally home free.
"If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation, everything old has passed away." Presto chango. Delete. God strikes again. The disappearing sin trick. And "see, everything has become new!"
The kid takes off and blows everything. "I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son." Dad hits delete -- "Kiss your sins goodbye, Son, welcome home." New clothes, big party. "This son of mine was dead and is alive again!"
Most of us have "been there, done that" -- recognized our sin, dragged it home with us, and been blown away by God's graceful forgiveness. We can identify with the prodigal son. That's part of what brings many of us here -- the suspicion that no matter who we are or what we've done, when we turn to God, God runs out to meet us. Zap. Delete. Home free. Thank God!
So home begins to look pretty good and we stay around. Maybe we prodigal younger sons grow up a bit. And we start to look like the elder brother. We work hard at doing what we believe God wants us to be doing. Sometimes we do such a good job that we even forget about the delete key. And then when we see someone else's major mistakes being deleted. And more than that -- a fair amount of fancy celebration filling up the place where the mistake was -- we're shocked by the scandalous unfairness it all.
If we in the church look closely enough at ourselves, it's usually the elder brother with whom we must identify ourselves. Newcomers, latecomers, people who are different from us, people who want to change the rules, all unsettle us from the nice secure place we worked so hard to get. If we let "them" in, things will be different. They might even sit in "my " pew. So, what's to celebrate?
"Been there, done that" we can say about the elder brother. But if we recognize it, there's grace and forgiveness there too. The elder brother doesn't run as far away from home, but he too rebels, sulking outside the party. And again the father goes out to meet him and pleads for him to come home. The father is ready to delete the shortcomings of both sons and welcome them both to the party.
Neither boy really trusts thier father's love. Both boys need to grow up, to become more like their father. So do we. Our baptismal calling is to grow into the full stature of Christ, to show every more clearly in our lives that we are made in the image of Christ
Most of us can at one time or other identify with each of the sons. Trying to put ourselves in the father's place may be more difficult. Try as we may, that kind of love just isn't humanly possible. Can God really be expecting that of us? Much as we might like to "forgive and forget," our delete keys often misfunction, and our forgiveness is shallow or temporary.
In the today's parable we identify Jesus with the father -- because we know Jesus as the one who welcomes everyone with unconditional love, with unlimited forgiveness -- prostitutes & pharisees, good Jews & unclean Samaritans, saints & sinners, you & me & the homeless guy in the street.
But sometimes I wonder, if we asked Jesus which character in the story best fits his own experience, whether Jesus might not identify with the elder son?
Jesus, after all, is the only Son who has always done the Father's will. Jesus watches all of us prodigals make messes of our lives and sees the Father's love for us. And it is to Jesus that the Father says, "Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours."
Fully human child of the Father, Jesus IS our "Elder Brother." It's easier for us to identify with him than with the Father. Jesus is our Elder Brother. But there is one crucial difference to what happens when we younger siblings turn prodigal. Jesus, unlike the elder son in the parable, keeps his focus first on the Father -- on his own relationship with the Father -- instead being distracted by sibling rivalry.
The Bible is full of stories of sibling rivalry -- Cain & Abel, Rachel & Leah, Jacob & Esau, Mary & Martha. Stories where people are worried about someone else's relationship with the one whose love they want instead of their own relationships. Stories where the focus is shifted from God onto one's own anxiety.
But there is one Elder Brother who doesn't make that mistake. One who reminds us of that first and great commandment: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all they heart, and with all thy, soul, and with all thy mind." And only then do we become a new creation able to love our neighbor as our self.
Only when we put God first do we become able to love our neighbor as God does; because then God loves through us. Only when we look first to God's welcome and love for us are we able to welcome those who are different from us.
Whether we've just returned home from riotous living and feeding the pigs or whether we've been dutifully at home all along, if we are to grow more like our Father we all need to follow our Elder Brother home and sit with all our brothers and sisters and to be fed at God's table.