Friday, March 12, 2010

The Fall into Grace



The father wrapped his arms around his prodigal son

The Fall into Grace

March 14, 2010, 4th Sunday of Lent
Joshua 5:9a, 10-12 II Corinthians 5:17-21 Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

A reading from the holy Gospel according to Luke.
Glory to you, Lord.

One son took off.

Then Jesus told them another parable. A man had two sons, and the younger son said to his father, “Father, give me the share of your estate that should come to me.” So the father divided the property between them. After a few days, the younger son collected all his belongings and took off for a distant land, where he squandered his inheritance on parties and prostitutes. When he had run out of money, a severe famine struck that country, and he found himself in dire need. So he hired himself out to one of the local citizens who sent him out to his farm to slop the pigs. He longed to eat his fill of the pods on which the pigs fed, but nobody gave him any.

He returned.
Coming to his senses he thought about his father’s many hired hands who had more than enough to eat while he was starving. He said to himself, “I shall arise and return to the house of my father. And I shall say to him, `Father, I have sinned against heaven and thee. I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers.’” So he got up and started home to his father.

The father embraced the son.
While he was still a long way off, his father spied his son on the horizon. Filled with joy he ran out to greet him whom he embraced and kissed. The son remorsefully said to the father, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I no longer deserve to be called your son.” But the father ordered his servants, “Quickly bring our finest robe and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Take the fattened calf and slaughter it. Then let us celebrate with a feast because this son of mine was dead and has come to life again; he was lost, and has been found.” Then the celebration began.

The other sons pouted.
Now the older son had been out in the field and, on his way back, as he neared the house, he heard the sound of music and dancing. He called one of the servants and asked what this might mean. The servant said to him, “Your brother has returned and your father has slaughtered the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.” The older son began to pout and refused to enter the house. His father came out and pleaded with him. He said to his father in reply, “Look, all these years I served you and not once did I disobey your orders; yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my friends. But when your son who has wasted all your money on parties and prostitutes returns, you go and slaughter the fattened calf for him.” The father said to him, “My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.”

The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
---------------
Introduction
Two precious gems
This parable of the Prodigal Son together with the parable of the Good Samaritan are the New Testament’s two most precious gems. What Jesus said of the two greatest commandments can be said of these two parables: “On them depend the whole Law and the Prophets." (Mt 22:40) Both parables are found only in Luke, and that’s what makes him the most favored evangelist for many. The parable of the Good Samaritan is read on 15th Sunday of Ordinary Time Cycle C. The parable of the Prodigal Son will be read again on the 24th Sunday of Ordinary Time Cycle C. Then this parable, so beloved by sinners (which is all of us), will fall silent again at Sunday Mass for two whole years! What a waste!

Delight in the repentant sinner
Both Judaism and Islam delight in the observance of the law, and are, therefore, much closer to each other than they are to Christianity which delights especially in the repentant sinner. The Orthodox Jew embracing the yoke of the Law (Gal. 15:1) is matched by the Muslim embracing the yoke of Shari’ah.[1] Christianity (inspired by St. Paul) is uncomfortable with religious law; it is, in fact, laced with an` antinomian’ (anti-law) spirit. Paul writes, “Christ has freed us from the curse of the Law[2].” (Gal 3: 13) In the same letter he writes, "Christ has come to set us free from circumcision and the Law. So don't ever take that yoke upon yourself again.” (Gal l5: 1)

Judaism and Islam are dismayed by the transgressor of the Law. Christianity, on the other hand, delights in the repentant sinner. It delights in Jesus’ parable about a shepherd who leaves ninety-nine obedient sheep in the pasture and goes looking for the one that has strayed, and finding it tosses the bleating animal on his shoulders and heads for home to celebrate with neighbors. It delights in Jesus’ parable about a prodigal son returning home to a father looking off into the horizon, in prayerful hope that his wandering son would return. Christianity glories more in the forgiveness of a transgressor than in one who has kept the Law.

A diamond with many facets
The parable of the Prodigal Son is a diamond with many facets. It’s traditionally called the Parable of the Prodigal Son. It’s also called the Parable of the Prodigal Father who squanders heaps of love and forgiveness upon a wayward son, as he bedecks him with robe, ring and sandals on his return home.

Furthermore, it’s a parable not of one but of two sons: one is disobedient and the other obedient. By a strange twist, the `disobedient’ son is `obedient’ to the Law of Growth, which beckons all of us to leave the nest of the mother, get out on our own, and fly away as baby robins in late spring. On the other hand, the "obedient" son is `disobedient’ to the Law of Growth, as he sticks close to home, plays it safe, never matures and ends up as a pouting kid.

Finally, the parable begins with the father opening his arms and letting go of the son he loves very much, but whom he doesn’t want to let go. Instead the father puts his trust in an ancient wisdom which bids us to let go of our firm grip on the ones we love. If they return to us, they’re ours. If they fly away for good, they were never ours in the first place. The parable, which begins with the father opening his arms and letting go, ends with the father closing his arms around “a son who was dead but has come to life, and who was lost but now has been found.”

A prodigal Archbishop
The Milwaukee Sunday newspaper for May 23, 2002 exploded with a story about a prodigal son: the Archbishop of Milwaukee and his liaison with a young man. In the first public service after the story broke, the celebrant at Mass in the Milwaukee cathedral `comforted’ the faithful in his homily, as he spoke of the Archbishop’s `fall from Grace.’ His words piqued Anglican theologian William Coats, and made him exclaim, “This is really too much for me! There is a strain in Roman Catholic theology which sees us human beings as naturally good, but who `fall from Grace’ when they commit certain sins. It’s all so much nonsense!”

The Archbishop, he said, did not fall from Grace. He didn’t fall from some pristine pure state. He started out as we all start out—with the possibility of obedience and waywardness. Coates quoted St. Paul: “There is none who is righteous. No not one. All have sinned and all have fallen short of the glory of God.” (Rom 3: 11, 23) Even the `obedient’ older son, who safely stayed home and didn’t indulge in “parties and prostitutes,” sins and falls short of the glory of God.

Coates took a parting shot at us Catholics: “The Roman Catholic Church certainly has a right to preach and practice whatever theology it wants to, but as the dominant religion in this country it often gives the impression that its view is the Christian point of view. As a child of the Reformation and as an Anglican I say, No, it is not!”

A prodigal golfer
In recent days the news has focused non-stop on another prodigal son – Tiger Woods - the world’s wealthiest and most famous athlete. He had “taken off for a distant land where he squandered his inheritance on parties and prostitutes.” On Friday, Feb. 19, 2010, Woods, returning home like the Prodigal Son, delivered one of the most awaited apologies in sports history. As the prodigal son returning home confessed to his father for having ”sinned against heaven and thee,” Tiger Woods returning home confessed to multiple adulteries before his wife Elin, his Buddhist mom, his fans and fellow-golfers, for having sinned against heaven and them.

A Buddhist act of contrition
A month before in January Brit Hume on Fox News Sunday, urged Woods, a Buddhist, to "turn to the Christian faith.” Hume said, "I don't think that faith [Buddhism] offers the kind of forgiveness and redemption that is offered by the Christian faith." In his apology on Friday, Feb. 19, Woods in effect told Hume “Thanks but no thanks.” He spoke of redemption not in Christian but Buddhist terms. He didn’t mention Jesus; he didn’t quote Christian Scripture or theology.

Instead he made a Buddhist act of contrition. “I was unfaithful. I had affairs. I cheated. I am deeply sorry for my selfish behavior which I engaged in.” In his apology Buddhist Woods told a Christian nation, “Buddhism teaches that a craving for things outside ourselves causes an unhappy and pointless search for security." Tiger was obviously talking about his craving for sexual encounters with beautiful women. But he was also describing all our obsession with the next new thing. We Americans are driven at least as much by consumer capitalism as by Christian faith. Our cravings are endless good news for big business, but not such good news for human happiness.

Buddhism says that the root of suffering arises especially from craving. We crave this woman or that car because we think that getting her or it will make us happy. But there is no end to craving. If we get what we want, there is always something more to crave — another woman or another man, a faster car or a bigger house. Craving gives rise to suffering and unhappiness. When Woods said he "stopped living by the core values” he was "taught to believe in,” he was referring to the Thai Buddhist values instilled in him by his mother (who was in the room as Woods was confessing his sins). When he vowed to change his life, he didn’t mean he was going to turn to Christianity but that he was going to return to Buddhism.

Both Buddha and Christ
If Brit Hume believes the only path to redemption is Christ, he’s probably wrong. (That might be hard for triumphalist Christians to take.) If Tiger Woods believes the only path to redemption is Buddha (which he very probably doesn’t believe), he, too, is wrong. At the end of the day, for both Hume and Woods it should not be a matter of either Christ or Buddha, but of both Christ and Buddha. They don’t exclude each other. They, in fact, reinforce each other. The Buddha, who says that craving causes unhappiness, sounds like Jesus who says, “Unless a man denies himself [his cravings] and takes up the cross, he cannot be my disciples.” (Mt. 16:24)

It’s not necessary to choose between the two. Trappist monk Thomas Merton didn’t. He, who was a poet, social critic, mystic and the most famous Roman Catholic monk of the twentieth century, said at the end of his life, “I want to become as good a Buddhist as I can.” (Steindl-Rast, 1969). Neither did Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hanh choose between the two. Hanh is a mystic, a scholar, activist and one of the most beloved Buddhist teachers in the West. Thomas Merton said of him, “He is my brother.” Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., nominated Hanh for the Nobel Peace Prize. Hanh is author of twenty-five books. In his book Living Buddha, Living Christ he writes, “On the altar in my hermitage, are images of Buddha and Jesus, and I touch both of them as my spiritual ancestors.” We wish that both Hume and Woods (and also ourselves) could do the same.

Conclusion
The fall into Grace
The Archbishop didn’t fall from Grace – didn’t fall from the forgiving kindness of God our Father. The world’s most famous golfer didn’t fall from the forgiving kindness of Buddha. The Prodigal Son didn’t fall from the forgiving kindness of his father. None of us (“who have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God”) falls from Grace. Instead we fall into Grace. We all fall into the arms of an incredibly prodigal Father who wraps our skeletal body in a rich robe, sooths our calloused feet with soft sandals and adorns our boney finger with a ruby ring. Then He prepares a great feast with a fatted calf, because we who were dead have come back to life, and we who were lost have now been found.

[1] Shari’ah is the entire corpus of commandments and prohibitions in Islamic religious law.
[2] The Law wasn’t a law; it was 613 major laws plus a whole constellation of rules and regulations.