NAMING THE PRODIGAL WITHIN!

JOSHUA 5:9-12 Fourth Sunday in Lent PSALM 32 Laetare! Rejoice! II CORINTHIANS 5:16-21 March 31, 2019 LUKE 15:1-3, 11b-32 Year C

NAMING THE PRODIGAL WITHIN! (The preached portion of the sermon is in bold.)

In clinical, and not so clinical circles, a question that is frequently

asked of clients is, “Who am I being?” It is an attempt by Psychiatrists

and Psychotherapists to get a self-analysis from their patient, the kind

of personal assessment, introspection that can only come by taking an

intensely invasive inventory. Practitioners have developed the skills

necessary to coax or push an individual to think about their present

circumstances and the way they are responding, sometimes reacting,

to a specific situation or to other people. Many educational and self-

help organizations also use this tactic to break down barriers that

individuals are facing, to create windows into their psyches,

objectively analyzing their behaviors in order to facilitate personal

growth and development. It is never a bad thing for someone to have the

wherewithal to stop and assess their participation in life’s unlimited

scenarios and determine the best way to function within any given context.

It should go without saying but being able to analyze and reflect goes a long

way toward diffusing conflicts and solving problems associated with

various issues when they arise. Sadly, we human types, at least on many

occasions, seem incapable of healthy responses, unable, if even remotely so,

to do this baseline but very necessary kind of work, to offer that level of

triage, giving the immediate attention needed to find simple solutions that

would address and often alleviate these initially harmless skirmishes. The

result is that the simplest of manageable difficulties quickly escalate into

ginormous conflagrations, raging infernos that create lasting, if not

permanent, relational damage. Problem not solved! As we all know,

relationships in their many forms are fragile, requiring the utmost care and

compassion and a lot of consideration.

All of us are aware of television commercials and certain TV shows in which

an individual is faced with a decision. Seated on one shoulder, right next to

a very attentive ear, is a haloed angel, kindly smiling, softly whispering an

encouraging word, urging the listener to do the right thing, to make a good

decision. On the opposite shoulder, right next to the other ear, is the devil in

red, pitchfork in hand, horns at the ready, devilishly smiling with that

Cheshire cat grin, smirking that up to no good laugh, offering a demonic

opportunity, usually the thing that sounds most temptingly pleasing, most

intoxicatingly appealing to both ears! Choices! Choices! The two get into a

debate, much like the mythological dialogues we read about in the Hebrew

scriptures when God and Satan spar, arguing over the fate of an unfortunate

and unsuspecting target. Now, I must tell you, that being totally deaf in my

right ear, throughout my life I believe I have only heard the devil’s side of

the story in a given argument. That may explain a lot! But I digress; I often

do! These brief TV dramas are reminders that all of life is about making

choices, and that many times the decisions we make are a toss between a

very good option and a very bad one. The older we get, as we look in life’s

rearview mirror, with time being added exponentially as we go, as we reflect

on the decisions we have made, we are able to see with much clarity the

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efficacy, or lack thereof, of the choices we have made. We know that many

of our decisions provided good solutions, but others we made, not so much.

We rejoice in the good ones; we lament the bad ones. Hopefully, through

the proverbial school of hard knocks, we learn to forgive ourselves,

immersing our wounded egos with much grace and compassion,

hopefully extending it to others within our sphere of being, experience

having been a great teacher for all of us. “Who am I being?” often

determines the paths we choose to take as we navigate this long and

winding journey called life, knowing that every day brings new

challenges and new opportunities. The wheels on the bus of life just

keep on turning, hopefully never rolling over us!

Once upon a time Jesus told a “once upon a time” kind of story. It was

a parable about a father and his two sons, the mother strangely absent,

nowhere in sight in this drama. Perhaps that was the real root of the

problem, the reason the wheels so easily came off this bus in such a

hurry! You know the story well! The lack of a good mother on the scene

may have contributed mightily to the obviously hidden dysfunctional

dynamic that put the family squarely at risk, placing them all in peril! Now

you have to remember the context for this story told by Jesus because every

story he tells in the Gospels has a context. On this day the Pharisees and tax

collectors are griping and grumbling, insert your favorite non-Sunday

morning adjective here, because Jesus, as per usual, has chosen to entertain

tax collectors and sinners. They are the supreme gatekeepers of all things

religious. These religiously inclined zealots made sure to speak specifically

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and generally about Jesus’ reprobate friends in order to not leave out

anyone. They were such an inclusive lot! Evidently Pharisees and scribes

and the like lived very dull and boring lives, avoiding celebrations of and for

humanity at all cost. It was also quite obvious that they were very jealous,

probably not getting the kinds of invitations that Jesus got. Who wants to

bring a sourpuss to a party, casting a pall over the proceedings? Why

bother? So rather than come to the party, any party, the pitifully pathetic

Pharisees chose to criticize and deride, to whine and complain, visibly upset

that Jesus would not behave according to their silly rules and regulations,

their pious protocols, that he would not play the part, that he refused to act

like them, to emulate them in any way whatsoever. We all know how

religious people are supposed to look, don’t we? They are supposed to look

holier than thou, feigning any semblance of enjoyment, miserable in their

demeanor as if they are in pain, as if they carry the weight of the world on

their self-righteous shoulders. Jesus went against convention in every way

possible. Jesus? He was a party animal, extraordinaire! If there were not

enough libations to get everybody sauced, he would make some! Read his

story! He is the life of every party! And you always wanted Jesus at your

party, just in case there was even the slightest chance that the host might

run out of the good stuff. Elsewhere in the Gospels we read that Jesus is

accused of being a drunkard and a glutton. Good for him! He diligently

earned that badge of honor! I wonder if they give merit badges for such

achievements? Jesus did not have to work at it because it came so naturally!

Oh, to be accused of being like Jesus! Jesus knew where the fun was and who

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the fun people were. Who could blame him for tiring of inane, though

sometimes thoughtful conversations with the thickheaded Pharisees?

Sometimes you got to party like its 1999 . . . uh, 30 CE! So, after hearing the

Pharisees and scribes drone on infinitum, ad nauseum, for what seemed an

eternity, as if beating the proverbial dead horse, Jesus apparently had had

enough. Hopefully, these malcontents at the minimum managed to

accomplish something, getting this burr up their backside out of their

system. Hopefully they were able to remove at least a portion of the

excessive vitriol from their clogged-up, theologically polluted systems,

throwing up every hair ball of religiosity that infected them and their spirits,

placating their shallow need to produce platitudes of perfect piosity. Oh,

how they wore it on their sleeve! So, Jesus does what Jesus does, he

interrupts the same old tired rhetoric of the righteously religious, drowning

out a cacophony of unison voices, all creating a boringly corporate

monologue of mythological monotony. Jesus seizes the moment from the

usual suspects, his always predictable adversaries, opting to tell a

story, a captivating, entertaining story, because Jesus was a good story

teller, a great story teller. He could weave a yarn with the best of them!

Now whether this was folklore of old, sage wisdom passed down

through the centuries, or was fresh, original with Jesus, scholars

debate these things to excess or so it seems. The fact of the matter is

we just don’t know. It is all speculation! What we know is that this

story turned out to be a rather good story, one of the two most popular

parables in the Rabbi’s didactic arsenal. It is right up there with the

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one we traditionally call the “Good Samaritan!” Well, it seems that the

younger son was a fidgety sort, full of testosterone and wanderlust,

piss and vinegar we call it in our common vernacular. Emphasis on

common! The erstwhile restless spirit was bored living in the big

house, an ungrateful, spoiled and self-centered silver spoon trust baby

on steroids. He was anything but a chip-off-the-old-block! Can you say,

“Severe narcissistic personality disorder!” We all know it when we see

it! The young un-prodigy, needed adventure, excitement, new

horizons to capture his short attention span, to fulfill his enormous

ego and his zealous desires for a lusty life. He needed wine, women,

and song! Don’t we all? For some reason a whole bunch of Kingston Trio

folksongs come to mind, something about a gambling man! Come to think of

it, the Allman Brothers, shout out to Macon, Georgia, sang about a rambling

man! We have covered all the bases! Hey, baseball is back! So, the younger

son boldly, if not audaciously, approached the soon-to-be-estranged

father, asking for, perhaps demanding his share of the inheritance,

treating his dad as if daddy were already dead. He was off to find the

wanderlust, the biblical equivalent of Dollywood, the magic kingdoms

of Disney Land and Disney World, Epcot, and Six Flags over God knows

where, all combined. Well, life was fun for a while, kicks and giggles all

around, but in the excitement and glee of his newfound and unbridled

liberation, as this young buck experienced the sweet taste of pure

freedom, unshackled in every way imaginable, unleashing the full

spectrum of an outrageous euphoria fueling his newly discovered

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unhinged persona, he forgot one really big thing. In his haste to

separate himself from his old life, a past he regretted and resented,

even hated, the young man failed to develop a financial plan to insure

his future, he overlooked the need to prepare. Oh, how he needed a

good accountant to secure his life for the long haul of a lifetime! God

help the shortsighted and shallow minded! Suddenly our friend had an

epiphany, realizing he had amassed a shortfall, going through his last

dime, squandering every penny of a seemingly endless inheritance,

the abundance out of which would surely never run dry. Well, the well

did! Surely this grand sum amounted to a substantial nest egg. It was

all a figment of his deluded imagination, an illusion, a fantasy!

Evidently, the cost of riotous living is not cheap! I love the stale, old

joke about this prodigal. He spent his all his fortune on booze, hookers,

gambling, and all manner of frivolity. The rest of it, he wasted! It still

gets a laugh. Without notice, vanishing as quickly as they appeared, all

his bought and payed for friends disappeared, abandoning him in his

hour of need. He found himself hungry, famished, destitute, and

without a clean change of underwear. OMG! TMI! Where do I go? What

do I do? To whom? And his brilliant solution, as any faithful Jew would

do, not, was to go to gentile country and wallow in the repulsive mire

of a smelly pig pen, fighting the pigs for their food. He hired himself

out, prostituting himself as a pig-hand, tasked with their feeding. No

self-respecting Jew would be caught alive or dead in this God-forsaken

land. But here he was! He was lost in his own lostness! Now people,

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that is lost! This had nowhere good to go! As we all know, the problem

with pig wrestling is that pigs enjoy this exercise immensely and all

you get for your trouble is dirty! Filth! Perhaps, as he partied with the

porkers, his extreme hunger pangs took over, causing him to

hallucinate. Desperate for sustenance, the text tells us that he would

have gladly eaten the pigs’ food, the mystery pods that made up their

diet. Pods nothing! He needed protein, meat, and oh what a vision of

edible delights now danced before him, richest delicacies now became

visible, parading in front of his eyes! This being the only meat within

sight, it was all within his grasp! As they say at the University of

Arkansas, “Woo pig, sooie!” It is enough to make your mouth water!

Catatonically mesmerized like a frozen pizza, the hunger starved

foreigner pondered the possibilities, literally salivating as this

seriously compromised and confused kid imagined these alluringly

tasty unclean morsels, the foodstuff of gentiles now sadistically

tempting him. Bacon and ham, pork loin, prosciutto, and pickled pigs’

feet, he was sniffing everything pork now had to offer, the sugar-cured

smelling salts of life! The other white meat! It’s what’s for dinner! Oh,

for a juicy pig ear! Gross! Or how about a crunchy pork rind? Mmm

mmm, good! And one word sums up the whole menu, Head Cheese!

Nasty! “O taste and see” once declared the biblical writer elsewhere.

Surely, this was not what this creative thinker had in mind. Yes, he

could almost smell it! As K. D. Lang once sang, “Constant Craving!” But

unlike with Peter in a different time and place, “kill and eat” was not

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the voice he heard that day. Suddenly, in the nanosecond of a sobering

moment, we are told that “he came to himself!” Yes, “he came to

himself!” He came to his senses! It was his own personal “Ah ha”

moment as he heard his own voice as if it were the voice of God. He was

contrite and convicted in every way. He realized his life was devoid of

all meaning, all significance. Almost overnight, or so it seemed, he had

become irrelevant, insignificant, out of place and definitely out of time.

Time to get out of this mess! I got into it. Surely, I can get out of it. It is

the biblical equivalent of, “Who am I being?” While life still seemed a

mite fuzzy, a wee bit cloudy, enough reality was created in his being

for him to astutely realize that this was no way to live, that this was no

life at all. In a moment of immense clarity, he realized how selfish and

stupid he had been, just how good he once had it at his father’s table in

that opulently appointed, excessively luxurious home, how made in

the shade his life used to be. Oh, what a conundrum! Oh, what a

predicament! Oh, what to do! The man-child recognized both his

present plight and all the poor decisions that had brought him to this

place, each painful episode now flooding his mind, scrolling across his

memory’s radar, revealing to him a profound awareness that he had

royally screwed up his life. He had been a total ass! He astutely

acknowledged the folly of his wasted life. Now, not so mysteriously

unfolding before him was the proverbial fork in the road. He knew

beyond all doubt there was only one thing left to do. And so, he pulled

his dirty, nasty, olfactory-challenging self together and began the long,

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humiliating trek home, carefully rehearsing the speech of his lifetime

as he prepared to throw himself at the mercy of his father. He could

not even begin to predict the outcome, but surely, he assumed the

worst. Full of fear, physically and emotionally distraught, humbled in

every way imaginable, he hoped against all hope, praying against all

odds, that he would shamefully be allowed back at the big house, hired

as one of the humble servants, ready to make a lifetime’s restitution,

an arduous prospect indeed. Better to be on the bottom rung than not

be granted a lowly place on the gravy train’s ladder at all!

Sudden cut away here, sudden shift! You all know how the story ends.

It ends with us playing an impossible game of just who really is the

prodigal in this story? Surely, the younger son qualifies, our having

just retold his story, recalling his serendipitous journey to hell and

back. It is easy to see his blatant disregard for decorum and proper

etiquette, abandoning all civility for the reckless routine of random

living. But no, perhaps it is the older son, the one with whom we all so

easily relate, readily empathizing and sympathizing with this faithful

son, who appears in so many ways a victim, certainly an innocent

bystander, full of what we perceive to be righteous indignation. We

feel his pain, understand his plight. But we know his shtick as well.

Rather than celebrating the return of this once lost but now found

soloing troubadour, an obviously lost soul, the older son puts on a pity

party to rival the party the father threw for his erstwhile renegade

offspring. The elder brother furiously pouts and paces, chafing at this

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horrific new development, having just made his long and thirsty way

home from another day of toiling in the hot sun, baking out in the field,

no doubt picking up the slack left by his slacker, absentee sibling, only

to discover that the house was in full party mode like a scene from

Animal House. The very idea, dad had the nerve to kill the fatted calf

for that no good, no account. I never got so much as a goat . . . and that

really got his goat! You can insert a moan here if you wish! This is

anything but fair and/or just! And then there is the prospect that

perhaps the father is the real prodigal in this story, a parental figure

so lavishly loving that he overlooks every colossal and ugly wart that

either of his sons might ever sadly deign to produce. He is the

quintessential prodigal parent. His parental skills are clearly lacking.

His parenting is obviously reckless, blatantly irresponsible. He is an

enabler, a pride-less pushover, a wimp, a sap in every way. No self-

respecting parent would acquiesce to this level, would bend over to

this degree! Have you no shame? The conveniently forgetful father

holds no one accountable, makes neither son responsible for their

grievous actions, completely ignoring every fault, every flaw, every

foolish failure. Some might accuse him of being an absentee parent

were he not so involved, so up close and personal! If you allow, if you

condone this kind of behavior, it only reinforces the idea that your

children can get away with anything, that these blatant displays of

disrespect will only happen again and again and worse! Where is the

wisdom from the Book of Proverbs when you need it most, “Spare the

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rod and spoil the child!” (Proverbs 13:24). These are horrible

parenting skills we see displayed here! The worst! This derelict father

risks disrespect, and perhaps even worse, total dismissal, complete

disregard, creating an environment that only begs for more creative

misbehavior. He is a laughing stock, a fool of his own making. Where is

accountability? Where is responsibility? Where is punishment? Where

is judgment? Where is justice? Yes, the father surely is the prodigal

because he seems to lack common sense, has no standards, no

boundaries, no backbone! He is a marshmallow! Yet, what makes for a

horrible parent makes for a wonderful God, a loving God, a God who

loves unconditionally! And it is the storyteller extraordinaire, Jesus of

all people, who subliminally becomes the ultimate prodigal in this

story as he tells this story, relating to every unrelatable person he ever

encountered, from the least to the greatest, the first to the last, the

worst to the best. Jesus was subjected to the mockery of abject scorn

and ridicule, eventually paying the ultimate price because of those

with whom he chose to be in relationship. Jesus can sell this story of

the prodigal because he knows what it is like to be one!

What we often fail to see in this story is that everyone in their own way gets

a pass. It is the ultimate reminder that God’s justice is in a classification all

its own. It is as devoid of human inclinations as it can possibly be. It is a

standard, a measure far beyond our ability to understand, much less grasp

and engage. This beautiful story is an unfortunate reminder, in the words of

the immortal biblical writer, that “all have sinned and fallen short of the

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glory of God!” We do not use the sin word much because it is loaded with

baggage. It is counterproductive, emotionally damaging in so many ways.

But on occasion we need the reminder, to remember that despite being

created in the image of God, that we are not God and we have the capacity

to be very human and that is not always in our, or anyone else’s, best

interest. It is not always a good thing! What this amazing story is trying to

convey to us is multiple fold. First, that none of us are lost. We are always

found because God loses nothing. Quick sidebar: you must remember that

this longest of three narratives is part of a trilogy of lost parables, including

the story of the lost coin and the story of the lost sheep. This might provide

a most important hint indicating that this issue was paramount to the

Gospel writer, that we might just want to stop and pay attention here. Even

with this emphasis on lost and found, there is a reason these are called the

“party parables!” Secondly, the parable is a reminder that no matter what

we do and no matter the number of times we do it, no matter the degree of

our most egregious transgressions, our misbehaviors never place us beyond

the reach of God’s grace. We humans may have a breaking point, a line in the

sand beyond which cannot be broached, but God has amazing elasticity, the

huge capacity to consume whatever foibles we can create and enact. The

good news in this text is that God’s justice is unlike any modicum of justice

we might ever conceive or convey. Thirdly, we are reminded of the

“extravagant welcome,” the expansive inclusiveness, the radical hospitality

of God, open and welcoming far beyond our wildest imagination. And finally,

point number four lies in what I think is Jesus’ twofold purpose of telling

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this tale. There is a subliminal, underlying cause at work here. Jesus was not

only admonishing the Pharisees and scribes to embrace all people, to

become inclusive in their spirits, but he was reminding all his hearers,

everyone within earshot, that life is a party, and that not only is everyone

invited, welcomed in every way, but that God celebrates right along with us

in this great adventure, this wandering and wondering journey. Life is God’s

gift! Abundant life is God’s blessing! Every person gets an invite! Like

contemplative, reflective Mary, in that sisterly tift with her busy bee sibling

Martha, an inane argument serving dinner protocols, a lesser task

masquerading as urgent, as job one, priority one, during what had become

a sacred moment in time, God desires that we know when to do what, that

we choose the better thing, every time, all the time. Jesus hung out with tax

collectors and sinners because, ironically, even when they were the

oppressors, he knew they were living lonely lives, isolated in every way

imaginable. In their own way they were outsiders too! He felt their pain

even as he felt the pain of insiders like the Pharisees and scribes and every

other fortunate or just plain lucky person, arrogant and/or otherwise. Jesus

learned, perhaps the hard way, that there is a price to pay when you ignore

convention and dare to love everybody, when you discriminate against

none, when you are socially just in every way, when you are completely

open and vulnerable about who you are being all the time, not just some of

the time, or when it is convenient. Once again, the pop-religious question,

“What would Jesus do?” comes into play, though the distance between our

asking and our answering, our doing, is as wide as the chasm that often

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exists between us and Jesus! It leaves us a bit lacking and a bit longing! Our

goal is to close that gap!

Perhaps we need the reminder today that all of us are prodigals in our

own way. All of us have our prodigal moments. Still further, maybe the

greatest lesson in this parable for the ages is indeed found in those five

little words that can be easily overlooked, a short phrase almost

hidden in the text, “when he came to himself.” Maybe it is a reminder

to each and every one of us, that at least on occasion, we need to stop

and take a personal inventory, an assessment of self, that we pause and

take stock of the role we are playing in the dance of life, knowing that

we do not dance alone. Sometimes it might behoove us to name the

prodigal within, remembering we are in very good company. Yes, we

are all prodigals! If we can ever find our way and find ways, in the

immortal words of John Shelby Spong, to live fully, to “love wastefully,

and to become all that we can be, we will miraculously make our little

corner of the world that much better and our global outlook might

then be seen in a new light. The parable of the prodigal, or prodigals

as I prefer, is that God only wants the very best for us, and desires that

we help one another achieve the greatness that comes from being

created in the divine image, gifted with the indwelling of the holy Spirit

of God. No matter where we go, good or bad, God has already been

there and is always leading us home. Even as Jesus modeled for us,

“prodigaling” in every way as he went, God wants to celebrate life with

us, rejoicing, Laetare, in all the goodness found in our humanity as the

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crown of creation. Yes, God wants to party with us! Why is that such a

shock to the ears, such a foreign concept? We were not designed to be

Puritans on parade! We are called to live like we really do believe all

the promises that come with our being, the individuals, local

communities, the worldwide communion we were created to be from

the foundation of the universe. So, on this day of rejoicing, celebrate

life, joining in the dance with the Divine and with one another every

day. Let’s party! Laetare everyone!

In the name of the One who creates, redeems, sustains, and wants us

to come to the party! And why not, we’ve all been invited! Amen and

amen!

Timothy W. Shirley SouthShore United Church of Christ Sun City Center, Florida 33573 © March 31, 2019

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