From Temptation to Transformation:
4. Tempted by jealousy
Lent 4, 21st March, 2004
The Rev'd Dr Craig D'Alton
Assistant Priest, St Peter's, Eastern Hill
What about me!?!
The catch-cry of the "me" generation (whoever they were supposed to be: was it generation X, or was it really the baby-boomers? Maybe it was both.) The impulse to individualism, so often defined as a hallmark of postmodernity, 'though in fact the ultimate outcome of enlightenment modernism, is often highlighted as the great scourge of our day – especially within the mainstream churches.
But ah! As we read today's gospel the truth becomes plainer. Before postmodernity, or Gen X or the baby-boomers, or even the Enlightenment, or even the Medieval world, there was the story of the Prodigal Son and his jealous brother: Give it to me NOW. I want it all NOW. And then, What about me? It isn't fair. (my apologies to those of you who are sick of Shanon Whatsizame singing that song).
Today's gospel is commonly referred to simply as the parable of the Prodigal Son. The emphasis of the title is on the one who strays, the one who transgresses against the father; the sinner who has succumbed to the temptations of wine, women and song and has paid the price. This title also stresses the repentance of the son, his coming to the realisation that life with the father is better after all. It suggests that such a realisation comes as a natural consequence of a period of absence from the father, a period of extravagant waste during and after which his true loss is recognised. Temptation is followed by sin, which is followed by repentance and reconciliation. A very standard and orthodox pattern. A perfect fit, it would seem, for this Lenten sermon series.
But of course the younger son is not the only figure in this story, and some other traditions give more inclusive and expansive titles, such as 'the parable of the two sons' or, in the NRSV's compromise, 'the parable of the prodigal son and his brother'. This is more helpful, because where the common title emphasises the first son's sins of greed and wastefulness, we need also to acknowledge that the second son's great sin – that of jealousy – is just as common and dangerous a human failing.
Another commentator comes much closer to a title which I believe recognises the true focus of the parable when he calls it 'The powerless almighty father'.[1] The emphasis here moves from the transgressive sons to the loving father, the father who is prepared to undergo humiliation and loss in order to allow his sons freedom and to show them his unconditional love. Yet this is not simply a father who is prepared to undergo such humiliation and loss, but a father whose very nature is to do so.
Let us begin by placing the parable in its proper Lukan context – Jesus' response to the 'grumbling' of the Pharisees and scribes (in 15:2). Jesus uses a set of three parables to respond to their accusation that he is acting outside the law not only by associating with tax collectors and sinners, but 'welcoming' them (prosdechomai) in the manner of a host. The first two parables are short and structurally almost identical. The parable of the lost sheep (15:3-7) is reinforced by the parable of the lost coin (15:8-10). In both cases something of value is lost, an effort is made to find it, and the response is one of excessive rejoicing.
The third parable – today's reading – has a similar broad structure. Something is lost (the younger son), and is found (though no effort has been expended by anyone except the son). There is then great, even excessive, rejoicing on the part of the finder (the father). There is an added complexity however, in the person of the elder son, who proceeds to repeat his brother's experience of becoming lost to the father, but with Jesus in this case providing no clue as to whether he too is found again. Indeed, the attitude of the elder son may readily be identified with the scribes and pharisees grumbling about Jesus welcoming sinners to his table. The elder son thus adds a new element to what would otherwise have been a simple "lost and found" story; that element is jealousy.
It is helpful to compare the first section of the parable, when the younger son asks for his share, and the final section, when the elder son gets his say.
In v.12 the son makes a request that is the equivalent of regarding the father as already dead. He wishes to leave his family, taking his patrimony with him. Greedy individualism reigns. But the father responds in an extraordinary way, by doing as the son asks. The son is to be allowed the freedom to make his own mistakes; to fall, if you will, from temptation into sin. There is no question but that this would have been painful for the father and have caused a great loss of face in the community. The father's response is unexpected and contrary to custom. How familiar is this kind of story to those of you who are real-life parents??
In vv.28-30 once again the son, this time the elder, makes a request of the father. It is, however, not openly defined as a request but is in the form of an accusation. He accuses the father of neglect and of partiality. He too wishes the father already dead. He too wants to get his hands on the property due to him before his time. He had remained with the father where the younger son left, but his outburst reveals that he did so not out of love but out of the desire for gain. Just like the younger son, he wants that gain (represented by the fatted calf or a young goat) before time. He too is greedy, but he is also jealous. Just as the younger son had disassociated himself from the family in a physical way, so the elder son now does so discursively. He denies the father the respect due to him by addressing him without title (v.29) and refers to the younger son not as 'brother' but as 'this son of yours'. He thus places himself outside the family unit. He has no father and no brother. He is the one who is as the hired servant. The father responds, once again, in an extraordinary and unexpected way. For a start, the son's intransigent refusal to enter the house of celebration is met not with rebuke but by the father coming out to meet him (cf. v.20). What is more, after the son's outburst the father does not reject him or even call him ungrateful. Instead he responds (vv.31-32) with the assurance of inclusion, whether the son wants it or not.
And here we come to the point. No matter how much either of his sons errs (sins, if you like) the father in this story does not change. His actions are consistent throughout. He acts in response to his sons, and he acts in extraordinary, generous and unexpected ways. We are not told the end of the story – whether or not the elder son repents of his greedy and jealous outburst (read 'is found' or 'returns') and occasions more rejoicing from the father. We are not told this because repentance is ultimately not important for the father. The repentance of the first son does not appear in itself to be a condition of acceptance by the father. All that is necessary is that he return. The father wants the son to be with him in his imperfection. The joy is at finding, at being IN COMMUNION rather than at witnessing repentance. The Father goes out to meet the second son not seeking an apology, but trying to persuade him to return to the family.
This parable thus provides an incredible challenge to our received notions of temptation, sin, repentance and forgiveness. It emphasises what Jesus himself was emphasising in his life – that God loves us, just loves us, and simply wants us to be found, and to be with him. We are all flawed. We are all tempted. We all succumb, and sometimes we find it almost impossible to say that we are sorry. Sometimes we are so bound up in petty anger, greed and jealousy that we are unable even to name our sin. And yet God welcomes us.
Here is a very great slap in the face to those in the Church who wish to exclude people on the basis of a perceived state of sinfulness; those who attempt to apply increasingly rigorous moral tests for Church membership. Only the pure may enter. Only the perfect are welcome. Of course, as Jesus emphasises elsewhere, we are all sinful, and let the one who is without sin cast the first stone. The loving welcome of the Father is without condition, and if anyone, ANYONE, comes seeking that love, then they must be welcomed and not judged.
If I am asked why the Church is a shrinking institution in the West I would venture to suggest this: that some of us have fallen into the temptation of the elder son in this parable. We have become ungrateful toward our ever-generous Father, and jealous of those whom he still loves, despite the fact that they are "not one of us". We have become greedy to preserve our inheritance, and are terrified lest one "less worthy" than us should get a look in. Sometimes we make the tests for returning so hard for those who have previously walked away that they, much less those who have never known the Church, are more comfortable working in a distant field with the pigs than risking the rejection which may follow return.
But those of us, like the eldest son, who are already in the household, do not need to be worried. Our inheritance is quite safe. However WE are at risk when, in our insecurity and our jealousy, we desire to put ourselves exclusively first ("What about me?!") and exclude those who have not yet joined us in the Father's house. For when we do so we place ourselves at odds with the Father. We put OURSELVES outside. But that is not God's desire. God desires all of us – the good and the bad, the rich and the poor, the wise and the foolish, to come to him and to rejoice.
And so, yet more challenging questions to add to our Lenten list:
Is there anything about the way we construct our community or our worship here at St Peter's which acts to exclude rather than to welcome?
Are there ever times when, rather than going out to meet the lost one, we have sat in the corner and grumbled with jealousy?
How may WE as a community, how may YOU as an individual, become icons of the welcoming and non-judgemental Father?
What must we, here at St Peter's, do to become icons of the Kingdom of God?
Notes
- Eduard Schweizer The Good News according to Luke (ET, Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1984), p.246.
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