NewCreation

Homily for Twenty Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time 2022 C

Welcome, my sisters and brothers, to this, the homily for the 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time. And this Sunday we get, after a very tiny little jump from last Sunday, the whole of chapter 15 of Luke's Gospel, one of the most beautiful chapters of all the Gospels. Three parables with important numbers in three parables showing us what sort of God is God. I've actually preached on these already this year. The bulk of today's Gospel is the parable that usually goes by the name of the parable of the prodigal son, and that was actually the Gospel for the fourth Sunday in Lent this year. So if you want more details in particular on that, I would ask you to look up my homily for that, and at least you'll find the scriptural references written below the image below the picture in the Gospel for that day. I also gave a much longer lecture, a 45-minute lecture in St. Albans Episcopal Church in Washington DC, reading the parable much more slowly and in much more detail, so for anybody who wants to see that longer version, I've put the link to it in the space below the image in today's homily. But what I'd like to do is, in a sense, a recap, a rather quick recap running through some of the highlights of what we get in these three parables. The first thing is, Luke frames them very clearly: "Now all 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.'" So that's the background. Jesus is talking to a mixed group, as so often, of those who are normally regarded as bad, and maybe for good reasons, and those who think of themselves at least, and maybe are officially appointed to be good, and sometimes for good reasons. But what he's wanting to do in his answers is to completely alter the nature of their conversation about good and bad, and introduce something entirely different: the note of joy, which is at the heart of the Gospel. Because each one of these three parables ends with the demand for a party, and ends with the demand for joy, because anything to do with God ultimately is to do with joy. So let's have a look at the way Jesus does this with each of the three examples, and each one is a build-up. He starts with the odds of 100 to 1. So you have the parable of the hundred sheep: the shepherd loses one of them, doesn't leave the 99 — or rather, does leave the 99 in the wilderness — and goes after the lost one until he finds it. Leaves them in the wilderness. Who's crazy enough to leave 99 sheep in the wilderness, who will behave themselves? When he's found it, he lays it on his shoulders and he rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, "Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost." In other words, when you find the lost sheep, you have a party. That's the overwhelming message of this. But the notion that he leaves, if you like, the good ones in the wilderness – which is already pretty frightening, as the wolves might be there, but between the 99 of them they should be better able to look after themselves – and goes after the one who will be completely defenseless against whatever wolves and other predators might be around. The result is party: "Rejoice with me." And then he says, "Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over 99 righteous people who need no repentance." Joy is the key thing. What happens? Repentance leads to joy. Repentance is not the act of jumping through hoops to persuade somebody that you're sorry. It's the discovery: "Oh my God, I've been wrong. I've been caught up in awful things, and I'm being set free from it. I'm being brought to a place where I can become who I am, and take part in the great rejoicing with other people who are like me." It's this huge rejoicing that our Lord is trying to bring out. The parable of the lost coin: we have the same, but the numbers are getting ever narrower. "What woman, having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light the lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? When she has found it, she calls together her friends and says, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.'" "Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents." Okay, well, those two small parables act as a very well-coded introduction to the longer one. And by well-coded I mean they're saying something about God as well, because each one of the images is quite familiar to Jesus's audience. First of all, the shepherd of Israel, to whom many of the Psalms address: "O shepherd of Israel, hear us…" Here is the shepherd of Israel saying what the activity of the shepherd of Israel looks like: the activity of the shepherd of Israel looks like going and finding a reason for rejoicing. And in the second story we have the business of the ten silver coins. Well, the most common reason why a woman might have ten silver coins is the dowry. It would be the sign of her ability to get married, or indeed to have been married. Very important — it would be carried either as a bracelet or as a necklace. It would be a very important part of her life. It wasn't simply that she was a numismatist collecting coins; no, these were a significant part of her bridal meaning. So what's happening? She's lost part of her bridal meaning, and she goes and looks and finds it and rejoices. But what sort of rejoicing is this? Israel the bride is rejoicing because the possibility of marriage comes alive again. The promise of marriage comes to fruition with the bride Israel as the bride of God. And that's when we turn to the third of the parables, the one with only two people who might be lost or found — from 99 to 1, to 9 to 1, to 1 to 2. And this is the key thing. And what is the representative figure for God here? Well, it's the one who I refer to as the self-effacing father, because now that Jesus is coming down from mighty images to images of one-to-one, he brings out something astounding: that rather than God being the judge between people who are good and bad, God is a self-effacing father who never puts himself at a level above the two brothers. In fact, he effaces himself in the presence of the brothers so as to make it possible — if at all possible — for them to come together in a common rejoicing. That's why I call this the parable of the self-effacing father. Let's just look at it quickly in that light. "There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, 'Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.' So he divided his property between them." In other words, from that moment he self-effaced — the property is now in the hands of the two sons. Functionally, there are two of them. They may not realize it yet. One is going to use it in a dispendious way, and the other is going to fail to use it because of certain feelings that hold him back, and serve some other party who really doesn't want to be treated in that particular way. A few days later the son gathers all he has, travels to a distant country. In order to gather what he has, he's going to have to sell — realize the capital — which means putting the father figure into a position of some shame. The father doesn't object; he goes. He proves not to be very good with his money. That doesn't say here that he had anything to do with prostitutes — that's the jealous brother's point of view. May be true, may not be true, but it was what the jealous brother says, not what the text says. Then he falls on bad times and goes and hides himself out, isn't even able to eat what's provided for the pigs — so ultimate humiliation. And then he comes to himself. Nothing moralistic about this. Nothing, if you like, of repentance. And that's one of the key misreadings of the parable of the self-effacing father: that it's somehow to do with repentance to the father. No, he comes to himself. He says, "What on earth am I doing here? I'll get up and go to my father. I will say to him, 'Father, I've sinned against heaven and before you.'" In other words, he'll go through all the hoops of the kind of things one's supposed to say. The textual reference to this is the reference where Pharaoh says the same thing to Moses in order to try and persuade Moses to call off the plagues. But it's baloney — it's not a real act of repentance. It's just, "I'm prepared to jump through the hoops. I'll say, 'Go and treat me as one of your hired hands.' I'll accept the demotion as a sign that I've been a bad boy." But okay, that's it. So he goes off and goes to his father. But while he's still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion. He ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. In other words, the father runs, which is an extremely improper thing for a patriarch to do. He rushes out and kisses him, which is what the elder brother Esau did to Jacob in the book of Genesis. It's what the elder brother Joseph did to Benjamin in the book of Genesis. It's what the son Benjamin did to his father Jacob in the book of Genesis. On no occasion does a father do it to a son. In other words, what is the father behaving like? Not at all like a father. He has a completely different value pattern — he's self-effacing. And then the son says to him — well, he begins his spiel, you know — "Father, I've sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your Son. But the father pays no attention at all to this, says to the slaves, "Quickly, bring out a robe, the best one, and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet and 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. In other words, the father's first reaction is not to pay attention to what the boy is saying. Party! This is what it's all about. He wants a party. This is joy. He doesn't care under what pretence the boy has come back — he's just thrilled that he's there. He actually loves him. So they begin to have the party. The elder son is in the field. He came and approached the house. He heard music and dancing — in the field, a reference to where Cain was, the elder brother who slew Abel. He heard music and dancing. He calls one of the servants and asks what was going on. The servant replies not "your brother has returned," not "your brother's come back," but "your brother has come" — which was the same as what the servants of Joseph said to Pharaoh's servants when Pharaoh's servants asked him why there was such a roar of rejoicing going on in Joseph's house, and the servant says, "His brothers have come." So it's clearly a reference to again the Genesis story which underlies the whole of this. It's the foundation of what's going on in Israel: here is the creation of brotherhood, the creation of fraternity. It's what all the sacrifices and holocausts are about. This may even have been a parable told about the foundation of the Temple — the feast of how Joseph and Judah should learn to rejoice. But the older brother, like Cain, becomes angry and refuses to go in. And his father comes out again — entirely improper. The self-effacing father is prepared to put up with all this childish petulance. He's prepared to humble himself completely. Absolutely inappropriate behavior for a good patriarch. Either the brother should have done it, or a servant should have done it. The father comes out himself — unheard of. But the elder son answers his father: "Listen." The inversion of the Shema. Whereas the Shema is "Listen, O Israel," here is the self-righteous brother telling off the father — "Listen" — Israel reversed. "For all these years I've been working like a slave and I've never disobeyed your command, so I've been like a servant to you and I've never let go of one of your commandments" — referring to the holding to the Torah — "yet you've never even given me a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends." In other words, "You're a withholding father." He obeys, he withholds — and doesn't acknowledge that the goats are already his to do with as he likes. "But when this son of yours" — he doesn't refer to him as "my brother" — "this son of yours comes back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes" — may have May not have the brother — certainly thinks so. Maybe he's jealous. You killed the fatted calf for him, so rather than punishing him and treating him as unworthy, you throw a party. It's ridiculous. You withhold for me, and for him you're generous. Then the father says to him, "Child" — Teknon — "you are always with me." He uses the word Teknon, not "son," as in our translation. It's a tender word, but it's not the same as "son." I think probably because it refers to the whole of Israel. "And all that is mine is yours." In other words, when we divided the property at the beginning, I gave one third to your brother and two thirds to you. It's been yours all along. We've had it together. It's been yours to give and use. Your brother used it dispendiously; you have used it in a withholding way, and you've used that to protect yourselves better than your brother. But all that is mine is yours. "But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours" — this brother of yours, he doesn't refer to him as "my son" — "this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found." The great rejoicing. The self-effacing father doesn't want to get in the picture at all. His rejoicing consists in brothers separated by views of superiority, jealousy, different moral differences, getting over all that and coming to meet each other and rejoice. And what are we asked to do but to understand from Jesus that God is a great rejoicing — if only we can imagine that, if only we can let go of our self-importance, our fear, our need to jump through hoops and all that other stuff, and start to enter into the great rejoicing. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.