Sermons from Mission Hills UCC San Diego, California Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] March 27, 2022 “The Grumblers and Grumbled-About” Luke 15: 11b-32 – Common English Bible All the tax collectors and sinners were gathering around Jesus to listen to him. 2 The Pharisees and legal experts were grumbling, saying, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” 3 Jesus told them this parable: “A certain man had two sons. 12 The younger son said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the inheritance.’ Then the father divided his estate between them. 13 Soon afterward, the younger son gathered everything together and took a trip to a land far away. There, he wasted his wealth through extravagant living. 14 “When he had used up his resources, a severe food shortage arose in that country and he began to be in need. 15 He hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed pigs. 16 He longed to eat his fill from what the pigs ate, but no one gave him anything. 17 When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have more than enough food, but I’m starving to death! 18 I will get up and go to my father, and say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19 I no longer deserve to be called your son. Take me on as one of your hired hands.” ’ 20 So he got up and went to his father. “While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was moved with compassion. His father ran to him, hugged him, and kissed him. 21 Then his son said, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I no longer deserve to be called your son.’ 22 But the father said to his servants, ‘Quickly, bring out the best robe and put it on him! Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet! 23 Fetch the fattened calf and slaughter it. We must celebrate with feasting 24 because this son of mine was dead and has come back to life! He was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate. 25 “Now his older son was in the field. Coming in from the field, he approached the house and heard music and dancing. 26 He called one of the servants and asked what was going on. 27 The servant replied, ‘Your brother has arrived, and your father has slaughtered the fattened calf because he received his son back safe and sound.’ 28 Then the older son was furious and didn’t want to enter in, but his father came out and begged him. 29 He answered his father, ‘Look, I’ve served you all these years, and I never disobeyed your instruction. Yet you’ve never given me as much as a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours returned, after gobbling up your estate on prostitutes, you slaughtered the fattened calf for him.’ 31 Then his father said, ‘Son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and be glad because this brother of yours was dead and is alive. He was lost and is found.’” Did you know this was made into a Lifetime movie? I’m not usually a fan of Lifetime or Hallmark movies, but Pastor Brown was actually really good. Set in a Black megachurch, one Sunday as Pastor Brown was preaching in the pulpit, he had a heart attack. As he lay dying in the hospital, Pastor Brown named his successor – one of his two daughters. But not the daughter who dutifully stayed by his side running the church year after year. Instead, he named his daughter Jesse who had completed seminary but is now an exotic dancer. You know, it’s a classic tale of a seminarian turned stripper. Jesse had been so disconnected from the family that she hadn’t even come home for her mother’s funeral, claiming she “couldn’t get time off work.” Yet her father never stopped hoping she would return. When the older daughter heard her father’s last dying wish, she was understandably hurt, angry, disappointed… And the Deacon Board expressed its extreme displeasure with the idea of an exotic dancer as their pastor. More than anyone, however, Jesse felt completely unworthy of the honor. I won’t spoil the end of the movie for you, but I was amazed at how well they followed the “script” of the prodigal son. But more than that, I was amused by the reviews. Jill O’Rourke said that when the older daughter complained of being overlooked, she nodded in agreement so vigorously, she almost gave herself whiplash. “Look,” she wrote, “I’m not saying Pastor Brown should’ve condemned Jesse to eternal damnation or refused to speak to her again. Forgiveness and parental support are fine. But people who have redeemed themselves after doing shameful things do not deserve more credit or attention than people who have striven to be good all along. Why should Jesse, who abandoned her family and doesn’t even want to be the pastor; why should she receive her father’s blessing above a daughter who has been responsible and worked hard. I mean, give me a break. More than the one who remains loyal, we’re supposed to root for the ‘Stripper with a Heart of Gold’?” And there we have it. Both the movie and the parable connect us on an emotional level with the various characters. Some in parental roles. Some of us as the oldest sibling or the youngest. Like usual, if you are the middle child, there is no mention of you. I want to make a couple of quick points: The younger child asked for an early pay-out of their share of inheritance. After spending all that money having a good time, he got a job feeding pigs, which, as a Jew, would have signified he had truly hit rock bottom. As we know, humbled, he came to his senses and composed a speech asking his father to become a servant, not reunited as a child. But the father had obviously not given up hope for his son’s return. He must have been standing on the horizon looking for his son for a long, long time. And then, overjoyed, filled with compassion, even before the son could give his speech, the father had already ordered a robe, a ring, and a lavish homecoming party. That joy soured, however, when upon returning from the fields, the older sibling felt a combination of anger, hurt, disappointment… and lashed out to complain about “this son of yours.” To which the father replied, “This brother of yours” was lost but now he is found. Rejoice. And then we’re left to fill in the blanks. Inquiring minds want to know, what happened next? Were they reconciled? One of the more cynical reviewers of the movie speculated that both Pastor Jesse and the prodigal son wouldn’t have lasted more than six months before a stripper pole called out to both of them again. Cynical and tasteless! But, that’s kind of the context. Jesus has been spending a lot of time with people of questionable reputation. Religious folks were grumbling and growling about it. In response, Jesus told three parables. First, the parable of the lost sheep. Secondly, the parable of the lost coin. And finally, carrying on the theme, the parable of the lost son. Each of them has a variation on “rejoice! What was lost is now found.” The genius of this parable is that we can easily relate to different characters in the story. In different ways and at different times, we may be all of them. Perhaps we can identify as someone who is heartbroken, waiting, never giving up hope, yet criticized by others who say “good riddance.” Or like how I felt in school. I always thought it was unfair that the students who were acting up got the most attention. Or how we can never live up to the reputation of our “perfect at everything” brother? Why can’t you be like him? So why not just leave? There are so many characters and so many different ways to relate to this story, including as one the servants watching these family dynamics all play out right in front of us. And then there’s the religious people – at times we might be among the grumblers. Or we might be the people of doubtful reputation watching our lives debated. The grumbled-about. You may not know that the United Methodist Church is currently going through a very nasty divorce. There will soon be a separate entity known as the Global Methodist Church composed of congregations and even whole conferences who leave largely over opposition to people like me. One of perhaps multiple denominations to form in the next few years. You might say this split was 50 years in the making, as soon as a line was added to their Book of Discipline in 1972 stating that “homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching” and thereby prohibiting the ordination of LGBTQ folks and clergy officiating at same-gender weddings. That happened to be the same year the first openly gay man, Bill Johnson, was ordained in the UCC. Methodists have split before. In the lead up to the Civil War, the church split into a northern and a Methodist Church South in 1845. You know the church next to St. Paul’s Cathedral with the angel on top? That was one of those southern churches. Their breach wasn’t repaired until 1939. But many of the same regional divisions began to appear little more than 30 years later, this time not over slavery but homosexuality. And again, a full out breach that may take another 100 years to repair. In the last few decades, various attempts at compromise or resolution have failed. The most recent proposal was called One Church – to essentially live-and-let live. It would have been a truce between congregations that were LGBTQ affirming and those who weren’t – a model somewhat like the UCC that is congregationally based. Except that Methodists are not congregational. They have a very distinct hierarchy unlike ours that has a lot to do with money and property. And with that comes power. And conflict. I left the United Methodist Church of my youth 35 years ago. It’s painful to be among the grumbled-about who are “ruining” the church with their dissolute ways. So, back to today’s parable. It’s familiar. But what is it actually about? The genius of a parable is that it has the potential for many different meanings, but forgiveness is frequently given as the answer to this one. It seems so simple. The father forgave his son. Or did he? Amy-Jill Levine is a professor at Vanderbilt School of Divinity and one of very few Jewish scholars of Christian scripture. With this unique perspective, she often sees things in the New Testament that Christians don’t. She asks, what makes so many people think this story is about forgiveness? Yes, the younger son certainly acted unwisely, but for what reason did he need forgiveness? He didn’t steal the father’s money. He didn’t run away from home. Dr. Levine exposes interpretations she identifies as anti-Semitic. For example, for many centuries this parable has been seen as an allegory in which the younger brother represents Christians while God the father chastises the angry and indignant older brother, who represent Jews. What else might this parable be about? First of all, what parent gives a 20-year-old the family fortune and expects them to always make good choices? Why do we refer to this story as the parable of the “prodigal” son? Why not call him the prodigal father? Wasn’t the father the wasteful one? He liquidated a portion of the family’s assets upon which the whole family depended? So, let’s back up. What does prodigal mean? Prodigal means wasteful and reckless. But it also means extravagant. The hospitality the father extends to his son upon his return might be called wasteful or it might be called extravagant. Certainly the older son saw it as wasteful, wasting resources on someone who did not deserve it. How did the father see it? How do you see it? Setting aside the wisdom of dispersing inheritance money to a 20-year-old in advance, did the father waste money on welcoming the son back home? Should the father have acted with such extravagance? I mean, killing the fatted calf that might have been intended for sacrifice at the Temple? But here’s the heart of my message today. We often think that the father in this story represents God. If so, how about calling this the Parable of the Prodigal God? You know, wasteful, reckless, and extravagant. I think this is a story about a God who is prodigal, who “wastes” grace on the grumbled-about. And what about the grumblers? Like the older brother, God welcomes them to the feast too. They’re not sent to bed without their supper, go think about what you’ve just done. But on top of all this, look at these characters. I also see this as a parable of wonderfully reckless, wastefully extravagant hope. Hopeful like the father who never stopped watching the horizon. Who are you hoping to see come back? It’s not a waste to hope. Or hopeful like the older brother. Maybe he just felt excluded. Maybe his hurt was his hope that his father would see him, appreciate him, or simply be in relationship with him. Where do you feel excluded or unwanted? Don’t give up. It’s not a waste to hope. Or hopeful like the younger brother, who feared his estrangement was permanent, his choices unforgivable. It’s not true. It’s never true. But wait. Why did the younger brother leave? For some reason I never thought to ask before. Did he feel like he had to leave because of a questionable reputation, someone grumbled-about? I assumed he was just greedy, but is that like a story we make up about someone dismiss them? To avoid the real issue? I’ll have to think about that some more. The point is, however, he was hopeful, not knowing if he would be accepted. He came back, not to resume a place in the family but to find a home among the servants. It’s not a waste to hope. I mean, if there’s any reason to think there is hope for a seminarian turned stripper turned pastor, surely there is hope for all of us from a very prodigal God. This prodigal God who “wastes” grace on people of doubtful reputation – the grumbled-about and grumblers both.
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