Luke 15:1-3, 11-32
Christian
Identity: Realizing We’re Lost
James Sledge March
27, 2022
Recently I spotted an article from the
Religion News Service on The Washington Post website with a headline
drawn from the piece that read, “If there is anything remotely ‘helpful’ about
the Ukraine conversation, it is simply this: It has resurrected the concept of
evil.”[1]
Forgiving
Father,
Frank Wesley, 1923-2002
I only skimmed what turned out to be a blog post, but I had a pretty good idea where the author was going. The notion of evil, along with its close cousin, sin, fell out of fashion some time ago. For many, things once labeled as evil can be explained in terms of inadequate education and opportunity or perhaps mental illness. And much termed evil could be eliminated if all its causes were dealt with.
I’m all for addressing inequities in education and opportunity, and everyone should have access to mental health services, but I’m not so sure that evil is simply a problem to be solved if enough resources are brought to bear. Russia’s vile war against Ukraine cannot be blamed on one man’s mental illness or lack of adequate education and understanding. The actions of Putin and a whole host of Russian political and military leaders speak to a more fundamental, existential problem with the human creature, the problem of human sinfulness.
I had a pastoral care professor in seminary who like to define sin as distortion. All of us have a tendency to misperceive ourselves, others, and the world around us and so to act in ways that are not in our own best interests, those of others, or of the world we live in. This tendency is remarkably resilient and resistant to the cures we devise for it, and so we are prone to mess up in ways minor and ways spectacular. We are prone, in ways large and small, to live in a manner that is counter the image of God that lies buried within each of us.
We humans were created for relationship with both God and one another, but we are remarkably good at damaging both sorts of relationships. We are prone to lose our way and become lost, in rare cases, demonically so.
Today’s parable addresses one facet of this lost problem. In the previous section of Luke’s gospel, Jesus speaks often of the need to repent, to change in order to be a part of what God is doing, but in our parable and the other two that go with it, the focus changes.
Jesus’ ministry has attracted many sinners. In fact, Jesus has actively sought out those living in ways easily labeled sinful, and this has upset the good, religious folks. So Jesus tells a series of parables that speak of how God longs for sinners to return and of the great joy in heaven when this happens.
First come the parables of the lost coin and the lost sheep, and then the much longer parable often labeled the Prodigal Son. The parable is straightforward enough, but our unfamiliarity with the ways of first century Palestine may cause is to miss some of its impact. That society was a strict, patriarchal one, where the father was master and was to be afforded great deference and respect. But the younger son acts completely outside societal norms.
He asks for his inheritance prior to his father’s death, something that simply wasn’t done. Surprisingly, the father honors this request. As was typical among wealthy families, that wealth was in land. Land played a large role in Jewish faith. Land was a gift from God, and it was a son’s duty to make sure that land remained in the family. But this wayward son had to sell the land in order to fund his upcoming adventures. Jesus’ original audience may well have been as appalled by this sale of the land as they were of his “dissolute living.”
But the young man manages to blow through all his newly acquired fortune and finds himself destitute. It becomes so bad that he ends up feeding pigs, something no self-respecting Jew would even consider doing. It must have been a real low point in his life, and it is at precisely that moment that, according to the scripture, “he came to himself.”
I love that phrase. It was a moment of clarity, a moment when he saw things as they truly were. He recognizes how foolish he has been, the pain he must have caused, and he begins to rehearse his repentance. “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.”
At that moment, the young man realizes that he is lost, and he sets out to return home. He does not expect a full homecoming. He will be a servant, not a son, but at least he will be home. At least he will be found.
But this lost son does not appreciate the depth of his father’s love, a love that is fully prepared to violate social convention about how a father should treat a son who has disgraced his father and his family. The father embraces his son before the son even has the chance to make his repentance speech. Dad throws a big party to celebrate and to reintroduce his newly found son to the neighbors and townsfolk. This young man, who has no right to claim sonship in this family, is home again.
Thus might end a heartwarming story except there is another son, one who has been dutiful and faithful to his father. He hears the party, then discovers the reason for it, and he is incensed. He wants nothing to do with such a celebration, and when his father comes out to plead with him, he does what his father would not do, disowns his brother, dismissing him to his father as “this son of yours.”
The father tries to dissuade him, speaking of “this brother or yours,” assuring the elder brother that there is more than enough for him. “Son, you are always with me, and all that I have is yours.” But the celebration must go on because the lost son is found, has come home.
The parable does not tell us what the elder brother does. It ends with the two figures standing outside, father trying to convince the son to come in. And the elder brother is now the one disrespecting his father.
I don’t suppose I should make too much of it, but the Greek word translated “elder” is presbuteros. It’s where we get the term Presbyterian, referring to our being led by elders, and it strikes me that Presbyterian churches are often filled with elder sibling sorts, those who follow the rules and do what they’re supposed to do, those who may be offended by the unfairness of it all when irresponsible rule-breakers get embraced and celebrated.
Earlier in this sermon I said that we humans were created for relationship with both God and one another, but we are remarkably good at damaging both sorts of relationship. We are prone to lose our way and become lost. The elder son in the parable is about to become lost. He is about to damage his relationship with both his father and his brother. I wonder if he realized that. I wonder if he ever “came to himself” and saw things clearly.
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I like to think that none of us will ever stand accused of doing something truly evil, but all of us are prone to get lost, whether we look more like the younger brother or the elder. All of us are prone to damage our relationships with God and with others, and part of a Christian identity is realizing that, owning the fact that we sometime get terribly and horribly lost.
Many of you are likely familiar with some of the patterns at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. When individuals get up to speak, they follow a standard script. “Hi, I’m Joe, and I’m an alcoholic.” They lay claim to this particular tendency to become lost as a key part of who they are, an identity they must acknowledge to move toward recovery.
Hi, I’m James, and I have a struggle with sin, an inclination to damage my relationships with others and with God, a tendency to get lost. Thankfully, I can never get so lost as to be out of the reach of God’s love and grace. There is never a time when God in Jesus doesn’t run to meet me with arms wide open and welcome me home.
Thanks be to God.
[1] Jeffrey Salkin, “Yes, Putin Is Evil” in his “Martini Judaism” blog: Religion News Service, March 9, 2022
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