Of God of Dwindling Milestones

Lent 4C; 2 Cor. 5:16-21; Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32; St. Paul’s Smithfield, NC

3/6/2016 Jim Melnyk “Of God and Dwindling Milestones”

         

 Poet Stanley Kunitz writes:

“I have walked through many lives,

some of them my own,

and I am not who I was,

though some principle of being

abides, from which I struggle

not to stray.

When I look behind,

as I am compelled to look

before I gather strength

to proceed on my journey,

I see the milestones dwindling

toward the horizon

and the slow fires trailing…”(Diocesan Clergy Lenten Retreat).

I listen to the poet’s words and I see in my mind’s eyes the prodigal son wrestling with his broken place in life, and his desperate desire to journey home.  I see the anxious parents waiting – longing – especially the father, who has given away so much with so little hope for any return. And I see an angry, older brother, whose own dwindling milestones remind him of duty begrudgingly lived, and the burning desires of his heart that long for so much more….

The parable of the prodigal son – that is, when we focus predominately on the younger son in the story – is a story about someone whose world view is about power, possessions, and prestige.  He sees these things as something to be wrestled away from his father – unaware of his father’s overwhelming generosity. His internal operating system – his internal core programming – seems to have a virus of sorts. 

Where the kingdom of God is about relationships, his internal programming is about self gratification.  Where the kingdom of God is about love for God and love for neighbor, his internal programming is about feeding the belly and his senses rather than feeding the heart and the soul.  It takes a “spectacular crash and burn” for the younger son to come to his senses. And even then, we can sense an underlying sense of manipulation in the young man as he plots a way to work himself back into his father’s good graces. 

The parable of the dutiful son – that is, when we focus predominately on the older brother in the story – is a story about someone who has always played by the rules.  It’s a story about someone who knows how to keep his nose to the grindstone – someone who sees his life as a burdensome duty to be carried out.  Like his kid brother, he either underestimates, or has no clue, about the overwhelming generosity of his father.  God is saying to the older brother – and to us – “Come out and play with me,” but the older brother – like us too often – can’t let go of the stranglehold we have on our lives. 

Of the older brother, Lindsey Crittenden writes, “Being the dutiful child is a burden. In some ways, the role of the prodigal is easier in its spectacular crash and burn. To slog away out of duty and purpose doesn't make for high drama. And yet, to wake up from mere duty and realize, one day, that you've had love all along—that, too, can turn lives around” (quoted in Synthesis today, 3/3/2016).

Each Sunday, especially during Lent while we’re using Eucharistic Prayer A, we recite the great “mystery of our faith:” “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again” – what Bishop Porter Taylor of the Diocese of Western North Carolina calls the “great pattern story” of Christianity.

The mystery of our faith begins with the words “Christ has died.”  The cross is how we break out of our own dysfunctional operating systems and find ourselves open to the love of God in Christ Jesus.  The hard truth is that we don’t get there without some suffering.  Thomas Merton once wrote, “love is the resetting of a Body of broken bones.”  And so, in the great mystery we say that Christ has died – past tense, but in that same great mystery we follow those words with “Christ is risen” – present tense!  The Good News – and it is Good News to be sure – is that Jesus has walked the way of brokenness before us – and for us – and that the risen Christ now walks that same way of brokenness with us as we seek to find wholeness and holiness in our lives.  And this reality is what the two brothers seem to glimpse in their father’s unconditional love for them both.

Finally, we come to the parable of the welcoming parent – the welcoming father in the story – who gives ungrudgingly of his own wealth, out of love for both of his sons.  Rather than being broken by the actions and attitudes of his two sons, the father’s arms are outstretched and welcoming.  He watches for, and spots, his younger son while the young man is still far off.  It’s as if the father has gotten up each day to search the horizon for any sign of the returning prodigal, and upon the son’s return the father wraps him in a bear hug and then throws a great party welcoming him home.  And to the older, duty bound and dour brother he responds – all that I have is and always has been yours!  All you have to do is ask. Come and join the celebration! 

Perhaps we shake our heads and wonder how in the world the father can act with such love in spite of the actions by his two sons.  The whole fifteenth chapter of Luke gives us some insight.  Prior to today’s parable we find that Jesus has come under fire for welcoming and breaking bread with tax collectors and sinners – the very embodiment of the two sons in today’s story.  Luke’s Jesus responds with three party parables. 

After the introductory verses presented in today’s lectionary we skip over the parables of the loss sheep and the lost coin in order to get to the prodigal son – but those other parables are there – and all three parables in this chapter focus on God’s “overwhelming joy upon our return.  Repayment, punishment, and justice [aren’t] mentioned, only joy and celebration” (Michaela Bruzzese, Sojourners Online, Preaching the Word, 3/6/2016). As the Apostle Paul writes, "In Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting [to them] the message of reconciliation" (2 Cor. 5).

In each of the three parables, that which was lost is found, and that is worth throwing a grand party.  Author Anne Lamott writes, “Do you want to know how big God’s love is?  The answer is: It’s very big.  It’s bigger than you are comfortable with” (quoted by The Rt. Rev. Porter Taylor).

In the parable of the welcoming parent we hear God calling us to let go of our need to be in absolute control of our lives; to let go of our need or our desire to judge those who fail – even spectacularly – and to let go of our unyielding sense of duty lived out begrudgingly, without understanding or accepting the freeing grace of God’s love which has always been there for us. 

We look back at the “dwindling milestones” of our lives and know that God is calling us to something beyond ourselves.  As the Apostle Paul reminds us, “If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!” (2 Cor. 5:17). 

No longer is there the greedy, foolish son who cares only about what he can get for himself, or the older, angry son who feels as though he has been taken for granted and somehow cheated of having more.  Instead there is a new creation – two children beloved by their parents and heirs of all their parents have to offer.  As our opening poet concludes, “no doubt the next chapter in my book of transformations is already written.  I am not done with my changes” (Stanley Kunitz).

Today’s parable, however we want to title it, tells us we need to reboot our systems and die to a thought process that honors power, possessions, and prestige over mercy, justice, and love.  Today’s parable tells us that God desires more than anything else in the world our transformation into the likeness of one who loves as the father in today’s story loves. 

We come to this Fourth Sunday in Lent and we realize that any transformation on our part finds its origins in God’s readiness to invite such transformation – a readiness that we see acted out in the life and teachings of Jesus.  More Good News: the God we meet in Jesus is a God who loves a good party almost as much as that God loves each of us.  And we are each invited to join in the grand celebration.