Sermon preached by the Reverend John E. Kitagawa at the Celebration of the Holy Eucharist on Sunday, 14 March 2010 (Lent IV), at St. Philip’s In The Hills Parish, Tucson, Arizona

GOD’S EXTRAVAGANT LOVE

Joshua 4: 19-24, 5: 9-12; II Corinthians 5: 17-21; Luke 15: 11-32

Today’s Gospel parable is familiar to many of us. Thinking we know the point, we may not be fully attentive to the reading of the text. So, please allow me to help you hear some of the detail and nuances of the story.

The context of the story is important. Pharisees and scribes are paying close attention to Jesus’ every action and every word. They are wary of his ability to draw a crowd, and resentful of his implied and sometimes direct criticism of their religious leadership. On this occasion, Luke reports the Pharisees and scribes are grumbling:

This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them (Luke 15: 3).

To their way of thinking, Jesus not only breaks tradition by sitting and eating with sinners, he seems to condone their behaviors. Today’s parable is thus a response to underlying premises concerning appropriate ways to think about sin, and therefore how to relate to sinners. Jesus wants to reveal something we need to know about God.

Now, to the story … A younger son asks his father for his inheritance. Right then and there, Jesus’ audience would sympathize with the father. The son’s request is a great insult to the father. Furthermore, fulfilling the request requires the father to sacrifice part of his long-term financial security. The father complies with the request anyway. The boy ends up penniless, hungry, and friendless. He ends up feeding pigs, one of the most demeaning jobs a Jew could have. He finally comes to his senses:

I will get up and go to my father, and say to him,

“Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands" (Luke 15: 18-19).

This is a moment of hope in the depths of despair. Clearly, he had no expectations of being restored to his former status.

Jesus' audience probably thought the young man had a lot chutzpah. Listen to a commentator’s insight into the Pharisees’ thoughts at this point.

[Jesus] tells them of a son who asserts his independence, defies domestic constraint, departs to indulge himself randomly and winds up competing with swine for garbage. “So far, so good”, thinks his scribal audience. “Let the punishment fit the crime.” They are impressed too by the wayward son’s orthodox reaction to his predicament. He accounts his behavior immoral and admits he must repent; he must confess the validity of the scribal universe as his surest bet to improve his situation[1].

The young man heads home. The father sees him off in the distance. Does he get angry? Does he unleash a lecture on responsible living? No. He runs out to meet the son he thought dead, and embraces him. This behavior would have shocked Jesus' audience. It was considered undignified for elderly gentlemen to run under any circumstance. Not only does the father run to embrace his lost son, he orders the finest robe and ring for him. Even more, the father orders the fatted calf to be killed for a feast. A fatted calf is a symbol of the best a household could offer. With no refrigeration and in that climate, an animal was slaughtered only when it would be fully used. To Jesus' audience, killing the fatted calf means the whole town was invited to celebrate.

The shock and amazement of the general audience pales in comparison to the reaction of the Scribes. In the words of one commentator:

By now, Jesus’ scribal audience is less worried about the prodigal son and more concerned about the father! He’s definitely out of character. He’s ad-libbing things nowhere to be found in any orthodox ritual of repentance. Instead of cross-examining the son and saying, “I told you so,” this patriarch seems to ignore entirely the son’s escapade. He sees only the object of his love. He is behaving like a father in the profoundest, truly original sense of the word. He is full of grace as he conveys his son off the juridical stage into a party, a realm of celebration too incomprehensible to describe to scribes[2].

Enter the older brother. He hears joyful noise coming from the house. He learns of his brother’s return; then refuses to enter. The father leaves his guests to talk to his older son. Again, Jesus' audience would have been aghast. First, the older son has committed an affront toward his father and his community by refusing to enter the house. Secondly, a host is not supposed to leave his guests. Yet, the father does so because his first-born is also precious to him. This son compounds his offense by saying to his father:

Listen, for all these years I have worked for you; and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!" (Luke 15: 29-30).

This would have been almost too much for Jesus’ audience. By saying, “this son of yours,” he disavows his relationship with his brother. Perhaps more importantly, sons do not speak to their fathers in this manner. It was all the more shocking because by leaving his guests, the father risks the good will of his friends and neighbors, and risks his status in the community. Does the father try to strong-arm or shame the older son into entering the house? Does he punish him? No. The father shares his joy, tries to reconcile his sons, and invites his first-born to join the celebration.

This story is most frequently labeled, “the parable of the Prodigal son.” Our attention is focused on that son—the one who most obviously messed up. Most of the teaching I heard growing up focused on this aspect of the story, and emphasized God’s forgiveness of those who repent. Yet, as I have tried to show, both sons offend their father. Both broke significant cultural traditions and norms. The father runs out—himself breaking tradition—to meet and forgive the younger son. Clearly this was a moment of extravagant love and pure grace, which this son is able to enter. When the older son refuses to join the celebration, the father breaks norms and tradition to reach out to him—another instance of extravagant love and grace. This time, Jesus says nothing about the older son's response.

Given the context discussed earlier, Jesus’ omission of the elder son’s response is deliberate. Pharisees and scribes are upset with Jesus for associating with the dregs of society and social outcasts. More disturbing, however, Jesus presents a different perspective on the nature of God, and God’s relationship with God’s people. Jesus' general audience would have recognized the younger son as symbolic of the outcasts with whom Jesus ate. To be sure, they would have been surprised that Jesus made outcasts the recipients of God's grace. Even more, they would have been shocked at Jesus' implication that the Pharisees and scribes also need of God's forgiveness and grace, for they were symbols of deep piety, and careful observation of religious tradition.

What does this mean to us today? The answer does not depend on which son you identify with. If you identify with the prodigal son, you know that repentance leads to a new relationship with God. You have discovered that God is gracious, forgiving, and full of love. You have discovered how, like the parable father, God runs out to meet lost children. There are no pre-conditions, no tests to pass. The younger son discovers forgiveness in the act of returning to his father. If you identify with the dutiful son, you know God loves you too. You do your best to do the right things, but somehow you do not feel fully affirmed and embraced by God. Something within keeps you from being vulnerable to God, and opening yourselves to the fullness of the love, grace and forgiveness offered by God. This parable is for you too. There is Good News for you. In prayer and meditation, recall how the father broke existing social conventions, went out to the older son too, invited him to the celebration, and offered the same message of grace, love and reconciliation. I love what one theologian says about this parable:

The ultimate theme of this story is not the prodigal son [nor the dutiful son] but the Father who finds us. The ultimate theme is not the faithfulness of me but the faithfulness of God[3].

So, please, listen to and hold on to today’s Good News of God’s extravagant love.

God’s mercy goes beyond human concepts of how God should act toward sinners. Jesus is the herald of the proclamation that God’s love and forgiveness know no boundaries (Luke 19:10). God loves the sinner even before he [or she] repents, and it is this love that makes repentance possible[4].

This is not really new news. God’s mercy is a fundamental concept woven into the Hebrew Scriptures. Scholars use a word associated with covenant, hesed. Hesed is described as:

God’s persistent and loyal love. This steadfast love is everlasting and unshakeable and is not to be thwarted. Mercy is God’s settled purpose. It can anticipate the covenant relationship and thus, paradoxically, “loyal love” can be shown in advance, when we hardly could have expected the world “loyal”. Regeneration is in virtue of mercy[5].

As you complete your Lenten discipline, focus on this parable about God’s extravagant love and grace. Remember and celebrate that

[God is] a God who adores us even more than the law would have us adore God; [God is] a God who is in a constant state of wonder over each and every one of us and longs not so much to correct as to embrace us and thereby recharge our own hearts with a grace and love like unto God’s[6].

AMEN.