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Father's Day
2003
Sermon: The Prodigal Father
Luke 15:1-2, 11-32; Proverbs 22:1-9
Sermon preached by Rev. Jeanette Mathews
Earlier this week I received an email with a
series of pictures attached entitled "man of the year". The first
picture had a man and woman walking along the road, the man unencumbered and
the woman bowed over under the weight of a great bundle of wood. The second
picture was of a man riding a tractor which was pulling a cage like
contraption in which two women sat. And the final picture showed a man and
woman walking hand in hand, he carrying a six pack of beer and she lugging a
carton containing about 2 dozen bottles of beer. "Man of the year".
That was a somewhat light-hearted series of images, although I have no doubt
they were photographs of genuine occasions - I remember seeing many such
scenes in Papua New Guinea of a man walking along the road swinging a machete
and a woman following some paces behind with the load of wood. More sobering,
though, was another email received recently that observed whereas a few years
ago men would routinely walk ten paces ahead of women in Afghanistan, these
days the situation is reversed. The commentator made the observation that this
may have something to do with the large number of residual unexploded land
mines in that country. It seems patriarchy is still alive and well in our
world today.
And we can't get away from the fact that the
world of the bible was a patriarchal world too. Society was structured around
the male dominated household. The head of the house was the senior male:
sometimes numbers of generations came under his authority. Women and children
were chattels along with animals and possessions. Sons were a sign of
prosperity but their rights were still subservient to the patriarch. It was a
world where power was unevenly distributed, where it existed in the form of a
pyramid with God on the top, the head of the household next, the adult sons,
and way down the scale were wives, children and servants.
Life was well ordered. People lived according
to convention, each acted as was expected of them or there would be severe
consequences. Listen to some conventional wisdom regarding the way children
were to be treated:
"He who loves his son shall whip him
often, so that he may rejoice at the way he turns out.
Whoever spoils his son will bind up his wounds, and will suffer heartache at
every cry.
An unbroken horse turns out stubborn, and an unchecked son turns out
headstrong.
Pamper a child, and he will terrorise you; play with him, and he will grieve
you.
Do not laugh with him, or you will have sorrow with him, and in the end you
will gnash your teeth.
Give him no freedom in his youth, and do not ignore his errors."
(Ecclesiasticus 30:1, 7-11).
This is undoubtedly what was behind the thought
found in Proverbs: "train up a child in the way he should go". This
was the normal, expected behaviour of a father. Anyone who acted differently
would be criticised and frowned upon - the sort of murmurings and mutterings
we hear the Pharisees making as this fifteenth chapter in Luke begins.
It seems Jesus rarely responds directly to
criticism though. He doesn't often enter debate, or try to defend himself;
in this case all he does is tell some stories.
There are three parables that belong together
in this chapter - we haven't read them all but you are probably familiar
with them. They are sometimes called the Lost Sheep, the Lost Coin, and the
Lost Son. They are linked together most obviously by the joy expressed when
that which was lost is found again. Each parable ends with a party. The last
parable, of course, is better known as The Prodigal Son. I looked up the
meaning of the word "prodigal" as it's not one we use often aside
from this story. It means "recklessly extravagant, wasteful". The
beginning of the parable merely tells us that the younger son spent his money
foolishly, and his problems were compounded by drought in the foreign land,
surely something outside of his control. It is probably his brother's words
at the end of the story that cause us to think of the younger son as the one
in the story who is wasteful and extravagant. Nonetheless, it was an
unexpected beginning to the story, for a younger son to ask for his
inheritance and for his request to be granted. It was a slap in the face for
convention. It meant acting as if the father is already dead. In such a
society it would have brought shame on the family. A cause for murmuring and
muttering.
And yet from our perspective we can perhaps
identify a little with this younger son. It's not that surprising to find a
young person who wants to get away from home, stretch their wings, sow a few
wild oats before settling down. Even Saint Augustine confessed in his writings
that the had lived it up before pursuing a saintly life: he describes it as
"the sizzling of unholy loves." We understand the need to sizzle a
little. And besides, we can't help but like rogues and scoundrels. The
bushrangers and cattle rustlers of our folklore. Our rapscallion sporting
heroes. The image of Pat Cash climbing the fence at ever so proper Wimbledon
is a hard one to forget. Even the bible sets this story up to view the younger
son in a favourable light. Think how many younger sons are favoured in the
Bible. Jacob is the archetype wily younger son who comes out on top. And he
eventually becomes a respectable patriarch.
But unlike the patriarch of conventional
wisdom, the Father in this story doesn't stand in his younger son's way.
No explanation is given for why he gave in to the demands of his youngest son.
Someone once said that no man knows his true character until he has run out of
petrol, lost his luggage in the middle of a journey and raised a teenager.
But was the younger son's experiences
character building? We don't really know. Once the boy ran into trouble it
didn't take him long to realise he'd be better off back at home. We have
traditionally understood his "coming to himself" as a form of
repentance, but maybe he was simply and honestly motivated by hunger. "If
I was even a servant in my father's house I'd be getting three square
meals a day instead of sharing pig food." So he set out for home with a
speech all prepared. Even if his father treated him in the way he deserved
when he got home, it had to be better than where he was in that far country.
The second part of the parable adds a new
element to these "lost" stories. It is about the other son. The
older boy. The responsible, obedient, careful child. Probably like many of us.
Grew up in his father's house. Stayed faithful, true. Any rebellion would be
hardly worth mentioning it was so tame. We might not like him so much but he's
easy to identify with also. We can't all have the great conversion stories.
We won't all sow sizzling unholy oats. The older son didn't go to any far
country. But he was far off anyway, locked up in self-righteousness and
resentment. He didn't see anything to celebrate.
But this story not really about either of the
sons. It is a story about a father. And in the patriarchal world of the bible
this father is something unexpected. Not an authoritarian demanding head of
the household, but a father who acts totally against convention. Think of the
structure of the story. It starts with the father "there was a man who
had two sons". It ends with the father making a speech. And in both parts
of the story, first describing the action of the younger son and then the
reaction of the older son, the father interrupts his sons' words with
actions and words of grace. His joy is the focus of the parable. It is against
his emotions that the reactions of everyone else are measured.
Think back again to the context of this story.
As a first century patriarch the father had power and authority at his
disposal. Even today a father would be likely to refuse his younger son's
request (you can imagine a sarcastic answer - "you want my money? Can't
you even wait till I'm in the ground?") A very benevolent father might
up the allowance or give his son an advance on his inheritance and see what he
makes of it. A father whose son disappears to a far country and gets himself
into trouble might send a friend or the police after him, or even go and get
him himself.
And then he might kindly welcome the young fool
back, give him a bath and some clean clothes, along with a strong lecture.
Inform him he will be given a second chance. If he proves himself reliable he
can stay on and work for wages. But surely such a father would be prudent,
holding back on the new suit and the signet ring. Perhaps down the track when
the foolish son proves himself responsible, worthy to be treated as a member
of the family again it will be time for a celebration.
And what about his reaction to the older son?
Surely a patriarch doesn't owe anyone any explanations. Why spoil his party
when sibling rivalry raises its ugly head?
But instead, we get a very different picture of
fatherhood. Running out to meet the runaway. Kissing him in public. Both of
those actions were unthinkable for an elderly man's honour in the ancient
world. And what's more, he doesn't even listen to the apology. The son is
forgiven before he can confess. Killing the calf, dressing him as someone
worthy of honour. Deliberately refusing to see him as a servant but reclaiming
him as the son and heir. Throwing a party. What a father! What an image of
God!
But even that image isn't static. God can't
be boxed even into that magnanimous picture and left there. Five minutes later
the father is out in the dark pleading with the older son. Reminding him that
to love God who we can't see is to love our brothers and sisters who we can
see. But never forcing joy. Still leaving it up to the son to decide.
Surely it is the father who is a
"prodigal"! Wasteful, extravagant. Throwing love around as if both
sons deserve it, the runaway rogue and the resentful recluse.
What kind of a father is this? One who gives
dangerous freedoms? Who permits his to wreck their lives rather than be forced
into an expected mode of living? One who entrusts his possessions to those who
may not be not capable of handling them wisely? Who faces selfishness with
eager joy? Who welcomes sinners to a party table? Who stands in the darkness
with good people who cannot cope with free grace being lavished on the
unworthy? Is this unexpected, prodigal, undignified father really supposed to
represent God?
In a patriarchal world this is not an image of
power at all, but one of vulnerability. Eduard Schweizer calls this the story
of "the powerless almighty father". A God who gives and gives and
gives until there is nothing more to give. A God who is represented with other
pictures, too, such as the image of Jesus hanging on a cross.
But remember I said at the beginning that these
three parables are held together by their ultimate expression of joy. One of
the most consistent accusations against Jesus was that he enjoyed life too
much. Always partying. Bending the rules. Eating without proper propriety.
Welcoming those who didn't deserve it. And indeed this is one of the reasons
he ended up at the cross. Because of the disapproval of the righteous. But
hear what he is saying to them, the Pharisees, the righteous. He addresses the
older son with a tender word not seen in our translation: "Dear Child.
All I have is yours." Nothing has been taken away. God's riches, God's
abundant life, is there waiting for those who are willing to claim it. And
even when the story points forward to the cross it holds the joy of the
resurrection in the father's words too. "This brother of yours was dead
and has come to life. Surely that is reason to rejoice."
And that is where the father ends up in this
story. Waiting out in the darkness for the response of his other son. Inviting
him to share the joy of forgiveness and grace. Who is willing to go in with
him to the party?
JM
Resources:
David Buttrick, Speaking Parables (2000)
Bruce Prewer's Home Page (http://www.alphalink.com.au/~nigel)
Eduard Schweizer, The Good News According to Luke (1984)
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