Prodigal Son

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Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

Chapel of our Lord, Episcopal Church Center

Maryan of Quidun

Hosea 2:14–23;Psalm 130;Luke 15:11–24

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the Living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

Today we get the famous parable about the prodigal son. The son who takes his father’s money and squanders it in a foreign land and returns home in disgrace. Although we would expect him to be chastised and punished by his father for how irresponsible he has been, he is not. No, instead he is welcomed with open arms and a feast has been prepared. And that, of course, is the point. This is the parable about the wideness of God’s mercy. It is a parable about how immense God’s love is. And I think there is another important message in this parable that is often overlooked. 

It is often overlooked, because the character is often overlooked. Who do we focus on in this parable? We focus on the father and the wayward son, particularly on days like this when we remember the life of someone like Maryan of Quidun who fell into sin and then repented. And of course, we all have had times when we have gone astray in our own lives, and so we can identify with the prodigal son. And I would bet most (if not all) of us can identify with the father figure. We know the joy of being reunited with a loved one. We know the joy that comes when reconciliation happens and a broken relationship is healed! But we don’t often focus on the other son, the one who is left behind and who is so angry that a feast is prepared for the brother who returns!

It is quite understandable that we have a dislike for that brother, because identifying with him would likely mean owning up to a part of ourselves that we don’t like. It would mean owning up to the part of ourselves that gets jealous of other people’s success. It would mean owning up to the part of ourselves that desperately wants to be loved and appreciated by others. It would mean owning up to the part of ourselves that operates from a theology of scarcity - a conviction that there is not enough love to go around, and so we must be in competition with our siblings for our parents’ love and with every other person for the love of God. 

I will admit to having my brotherly moments. My moments when I have been too self-centered and unable to rejoice in another’s success, moments when I have been sure there isn’t enough love to go around. 

I think if we take a good, hard look at ourselves and our motives, we will realize we have all been there. As much as we would prefer not to admit it, we have behaved in selfish ways. As it says in the Morning Prayer Rite I confession, we have “followed too much the devices and desires of our own hearts.” We are guilty of operating from a theology of scarcity. 

Most of the time we focus on this parable as one of comfort, one that reminds us that we are loved by God even if we have gone terribly astray, even if we have squandered the gifts that we have been given. That is an important and valuable lesson. And I want to offer that there is another important and valuable lesson in this text. It is less about our own comfort and more about stretching us to be who God calls us to be. I believe the story of the prodigal son is an invitation for us to stretch ourselves and to be more graceful. It is a parable about grace, but it is not just about God’s grace - it is about how we can be grace-filled people too. 

It is an invitation to behave more like the father than the older brother. It is an invitation to operate from a theology of abundance. There is enough love, enough joy for everyone. We ARE NOT in competition for God’s love or each other’s love. There is plenty to go around. That is the thing about love, the more you give it away - the more you share it with others- the more there is to go around. 

So, the next time someone receives an accolade you thought you deserved or the next time you want to launch into an angry tirade about how undeserving someone is or the next time you feel your competitive spirit get the better of you, slow down. Take a deep breath and remember the story of the prodigal son. Try being gracious. Try seeing them through the father’s eyes, through God’s eyes. Try putting a smile on your face and reaching out in love. You might just be pleasantly surprised by the results!

AMEN. 

Reflections on Healing and Wholeness

St. Alban's, Simsbury

Rev. Molly F. James, PhD

St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Simsbury, CT 

Proper 23C, October 13, 2019

Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7; Psalm 66:1-11; 2 Timothy 2:8-15; Luke 17:11-19

May God’s Word be spoken. May God’s Word be heard. May that point us to the living Word who is Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

“Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.” So says our Gospel reading from Luke this morning. I will own that this is one of my favorite passages of Scripture. It was on one of the stained glass windows in my home parish. It has been a formational passage in my own journey. As most of you know, I had bone cancer as a teenager. Given that experience, as you might imagine, questions of healing and wellness have long been central to my life. I think this passage deserves some unpacking. It can be tempting to just take it on face value. The difficulty is that when we do that we risk setting ourselves up for serious disappointment. On its surface the statement that “Your faith has made you well” is problematic. It could be seen as implying that if we only pray hard enough, we will be healed from whatever ails us. But we all know stories of truly faithful, good people who struggle with illness, loss or other challenges. Prayer can make a difference. It has an impact on us and on our world. But it is not a magic cure all that fixes everything. This is where I want to draw an important distinction between wellness and perfection. 

I think we often think that being healed means miraculous healing that erases all signs of disease. Like in our Scripture today where the lepers are made clean. Or are any of you Indiana Jones fans? In the Last Crusade, when they find the holy grail and pour water from it on his father’s bullet wound, the skin heals instantly and there is no sign of the wound. I think we are often hoping for that kind of healing in our lives. We are hoping that the pain and suffering, the scars, the wounds, whether they are physical or emotional, will just disappear. That somehow we can be “cured” in a way that erases any trace of a disease. It is not an accident that we think this might be possible. Think of all the advertising images that we see that emphasize having the perfect skin, the perfect hair, the perfect physique, etc. We are bombarded with images that emphasize a very particular, flawless image of what it means to be beautiful. But those superficial standards of what it means to be “well” and “healthy,” are not what Scripture gives us. 

Think of the Resurrection narratives. What is one of the profound truths about the Resurrected Jesus? Doubting Thomas only knows it is Jesus when he is able to touch his wounds. That it so important! Jesus still had his wounds. Resurrection did not completely undo the crucifixion, it transformed it. The reality of healing, of bringing life out of death, did not mean erasing the wounds. It is possible to have wounds AND to be transformed and made “well.” 

As someone who has been physically and emotionally scarred by life, and by the experience of having cancer in particular, I find such tremendous comfort in this truth. Our faith can be, and is, an essential part of our healing process. But having faith does not mean that we will not be wounded. We will have trials. We will be scarred. And that is okay. We are not alone in our challenges. Our Lord and Savior knows what it is to be wounded. He has offered reassurance to us that healing is not about being made perfect. It is about being made well and whole. That includes our wounds. It is possible to be well and still wounded at the same time. 

Many of you may also be familiar with the work of Henri Nouwen, and in particular his book, Wounded Healer. Nouwen’s premise is that our ability to minister with others in the midst of crisis is absolutely connected to our own experiences of being wounded. Our ability to be a comforting and healing presence is, in fact, enhanced by our own experiences of pain and suffering. We can walk with others exactly because we have confronted our mortality, because we have wrestled with the fragility and sacredness of life. I think it helps to have Nouwen articulate this truth for us, and we know this from our own experience. Think of the most profound relationships of your life. Do you feel a deep connection with that person because you like the same kind of soda or you have the same favorite color? Or because you like the same kind of shoes? Maybe, but I would wager that our most profound relationships are forged through moments of crisis and vulnerability. The relationships that matter most to us are the ones where we can be vulnerable, where we can share our wounds, where we do not feel the need to put up a false front of perfection. 

The relationships that matter most to us are the people we can call up in the middle of the night when our hearts are broken. The people who can tell us the truth in love, even when it hurts. The people who inspire us to be our best selves, precisely because they know our weaknesses and our challenges. 

So, while we are bombarded by images that promote a flawless, perfect life, I am not sure it is actually something worth wanting. I think I am okay with the fact that our faith brings wholeness to our brokenness not by erasing our wounds, but by making them holy. In the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, God has shown us that hope and beauty, that new life and possibility, are born not when everything goes just right, but when it all seems to be going sideways and wrong. 

Whatever wounds or brokeness you might be struggling with this week, whatever ways life has gone sideways, I hope you will take comfort in the assurance that God is with us in the midst of it all.  We do not need to pretend that life is perfect or that it should be. We can be honest about our challenges, and we can trust that God is at work in our lives and in the world bringing about healing and wholeness. AMEN.