Homily for the Fourth Sunday in Lent, Year C

Homily for the Fourth Sunday in Lent, Year C

The Gospel of Luke 15. Welcome, my sisters and brothers, to this homily for the fourth Sunday in Lent. Laetare Sunday, as it's known in the Latin church. Laetare: rejoice. And the Gospel today is a Gospel all about rejoicing. Luke 15 starts with the verse: "The tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus, and the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, 'This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.'" And our Gospel then jumps from that verse to the beginning of today's parable. But in between that and this, there are two other parables. The first is the parable of the lost sheep. He has a hundred sheep, loses one, leaves the ninety-nine and goes after the one, then brings them back. And at the end, has a party, says, "I need to rejoice because it's been found." The second is the widow with her ten coins, and she loses one, goes and finds it, comes back and throws a party because there's a need to rejoice because that which is lost has been found. So we can tell what the key to interpretation of the third one is. The key to the interpretation of the third parable is: out of two — in this case, two sons — one is lost and is found. So there's a need to have a party and rejoice. That is the key word. Party time is what this Gospel is about. Now, the parable which we're about to look at is often called the parable of the prodigal son. I don't think that's a good title. I think my personal preferred title for it is the parable of the self-effacing father. And you might call it the parable of the two quarrelsome brothers, but that's another matter. Anyhow, there's so much that could be said about this glorious, glorious chunk of Scripture, and I wish I had 45 minutes rather than about 15. So I will try just to bring out some of the surprises in it rather than attempt to go through the whole thing. Just some of the surprises, some of the things which we tend to fade out and not notice going through it normally. So Jesus said, "There was a man who had two sons." That's a perfectly straightforward piece of storytelling in a world — in the Hebrew scriptures — in which there were often two sons. "The younger of them said to the father, 'Father, give me the property, the share of the property that will belong to me.' So he divided his property between them." The surprise verse is: "So he divided his property between them." That means he didn't say, "Okay, you, the younger son, take the one third that is allowed you by Deuteronomy. Meanwhile, I will keep the remaining two thirds, and I will eventually give it to my elder son, or he'll get it when I pop my clogs." None of that. The father effaces himself from being a property owner. He gives it away. He is now, if you like, the nominal — if you like, the principle… of the property, but it's not his. He's given it away, both to the younger son and the older son. The question is how are each of them going to treat it? I bring that out because that's going to be very important at the end of the parable. We don't realize that he's actually given the property already to the eldest son. "A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country." Now that gathering all he had didn't only mean putting his sports trophies in his rucksack; it meant selling his part of the property. In other words, it was a very considerable public shaming of the father, who would have known that the son was fed up with life at home and was going off, because selling a third of the property will have required realising fixed assets, making them liquid. "And there he squandered his property in dissolute living." It just says in spendthrift living. So remember, we tend to think of, oh, he spent it all on whores. Why? That's because that's what the elder brother says later. But it doesn't say that. We don't know what he spent it on. It may just be that he wasn't very good with money. At least that's my personal private hope, since I'm not very good with money either. "Anyhow, when he'd spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country and he began to be in need." Obviously, references to Egypt — far country, Egypt, famine — all of these bells will have gone off in people's minds. "So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs." So the ultimate humiliation for a good Hebrew boy, having to look after these radically unclean animals. "He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating, and no one gave him anything." In other words, he was beyond caring about issues of purity; he was just very hungry. And it says, "when he came to himself." It doesn't say then he felt sorry for what he'd done. It was when he came to himself he began to realize — there's nothing theological about this, there's no act of repentance involved here. When he came to himself he said, "How many of my father's hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger. I will get up and go to my father, and I will 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." Okay, so saying: I realize my dad doesn't owe me anything, because I've already had my portion, but I can at least turn up and ask to be treated as a servant and earn my living. Perhaps that will work. But he's coming to himself. There's no great theological shakes here. But what about this phrase? "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." Now, the first hearers are likely to I can pick this up in two ways. The first thing is that it was actually the form of confession that happened at the rite of the atonement according to Mishnah Yoma. So this would have been a bit like how we say at the beginning of Mass, "I confess to you almighty Father and to you my sisters and brothers," that kind of thing. But it's actually a quote from the Hebrew scriptures, and the quote is from Exodus. And you'll be surprised at who says it to whom. The answer is: Pharaoh says it to Moses. And it's a trick. It's a fake confession. It's merely Pharaoh jumping through the hoops to try and get Moses off his back with all these magic tricks, which Moses is doing rather better than Pharaoh's own magicians. So this business about "sinning against you and against heaven before you" — it's ironic. It's not a repentance. As it were, he's being presented as someone who's jumping through the hoops, not as someone who's deeply broken-hearted, if you like, about what's going on. So here we have this entirely realistic son — but, you know, not particularly upset, just entirely realistic — he goes off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran, put his arms around him, and kissed him. Now this is the line of course that everyone remembers. This is the famous line, and of course everyone should remember it. It is a wonderful line. But it's also a bit surprising, because it's a direct quote from the Hebrew scriptures. Actually, it's a triple direct quote — it appears three times in the Hebrew scriptures. But here's the secret: in none of those occasions is it a father who falls on the son's neck and kisses him. In the first, it's Esau, an elder brother, who falls on Jacob his brother's neck and kisses him. In the second, it's Joseph falling on Benjamin's neck — so that's Joseph, an elder brother, falling on his younger brother's neck. And the third time, it's Joseph again, this time falling on Jacob, Israel, his father's neck when he finally comes down to Israel to be with him. In other words, at no time at all is this the behavior of a father. The father's behavior is completely un-father-like. In fact, running towards him is what Esau did. Running towards somebody, for a father, is a grossly un-patriarchal thing to do — I mean, lift up your skirts and waddle. In other words, this is part of the self-effacing father. All the behaviors described are the behaviors not of a father but of an elder brother or a son. In other words, the father is being de-paternalized, de-patriarchized at every stage of this parable. So he ran, put his arms around him, and kissed him. Then the son says to him, "Father, I've sinned…" — in other words, he tries to start trotting out his jumping through the hoops, you know… "I'll get my speech out." But the father pays no attention at all. He doesn't even talk to him, doesn't address him by name or even talk to him at all. In fact, the son disappears in the rest of the story. But the father simply says, "Quickly, bring out a robe, the best one, and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet." In other words, he treats him as Joseph with the best robe, as the high priest with the best robe, with a ring on his finger as Pharaoh treated Joseph. And the implication also is that he is this high priestly figure, having perhaps already been sacrificed. "Get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate." This was the sacrifice for the inauguration of the Temple, and it's quite probable that this parable was a homily for the feast of the foundation of the Temple. So we have the notion of the received son coming back and a huge party being organized for him. But the son himself seems to have disappeared. "Get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again. He was lost and is found." And they began to celebrate. So here we have, in a sense, the celebration of the sacrificed son who has come back and has now risen to be with his father. None of this is accidental. There are lots of other hints of that, but that will be for another day, because it's too much to get into in this little homilette. "So his older son was in the field, and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing." Older son in the field — quick reminder — came, in the field: yes, all of that is fairly obvious. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. And he replied — not, as most of us assume, "your brother has returned and your father has killed the fatted calf," but "your brother has come and your father has killed the fatted calf." Why do I make that point? Because if he said "has returned," the verb "return" is a reference to the Hebrew verb which means to repent. But here it just says, quite literally in Greek, "your brother has come," and it's again a direct reference to the Joseph story in the book of Genesis, where after Joseph has been reunited with his brothers they have a huge party in the house and they make such a row that they wake up Pharaoh's household, and Pharaoh's household sends messengers who ask a servant boy what's going on, why is there such a row. And the boy answers, "His brothers have come." The only difference between the two quotes is that one is in the singular — "his brother has come" — and in the plural in Genesis — "brothers have come." So this is clearly a reference to that. But then the older brother became angry — in other words, he's jealous — and refused to go in. And this is, if you like, the tragedy: the brother refuses to enter into the rejoicing. Then his father came out and began to plead with him once again. The least possible patriarchal thing to do. If you are the father and in charge of a party, the one thing you don't do is go out and bring in some recalcitrant son into the party. On the contrary, you send out a servant, or just conceivably you send out the guy's brother to deal with it. But no, you send out a servant. So here, please notice that the father has become completely self-effacing. This is a person with no self-importance at all. His only interest is in representing the possibility of a reconciliation between the brothers. His father came out and began to plead with him. This is, you know, a reference almost to St Paul pleading: "be an ambassador for Christ." He's become an ambassador for his brother, for his son. And he became angry, and he answered his father: "Listen, for all these years I've been working like a slave for you, and I've never disobeyed your command, yet you've never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends." So this is Cain annoyed at the successful sacrifice of Abel with the fatted calf. He's annoyed that there's a party going. This is all the older brother. He's been obedient, he's obeyed all the commandments, but he's failed to pick up that it was all his anyhow. He could have had as many goats as he liked; it was already his. Then he says: "But when this son of yours came back who's defiled your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him." In other words, he hasn't any sense that this stuff was already his own. And the father reminds him of it. The father says: "Son, you're always with me and all that is mine is yours." In fact, curiously, he doesn't call him "son." The older brother says "this son of yours," in other words refusing his own fraternity, won't refer to him as his brother. And the father says to him, "techna" — child — it's a tender word, but it's not the same as "son," because he is about to flip. He says: "Techna, you're always with me and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and he's been found." So please notice what this parable is about. The true generosity and presence of the father is in producing the party. That's all, in a sense, he wants to do. And the party's only really a party if he can get the brothers to rejoice together. That's the longing of the father in this party. "We have to rejoice. Will you come in? Will you dare to come in?" It's the story of two quarrelsome brothers and the self-effacing father who is only realized, if you like, who only becomes father when the brothers rejoice — the self-effacing father. So I just want to bring out what a wonderful story this is. This is not a story about penitence; it's a story about Someone attempting to produce togetherness amongst her brothers, and that that's what the party is all about. The suggestion that what is our Lent for? Our Lent is a time when we learn to be reconciled with each other, so that we can celebrate together the great Passover. The great Passover in which the Son has appeared in our midst to be the beginning of the great feast. That's what we are called to do today, on this the Sunday of rejoicing, Laetare Sunday. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.