March 14, 2010

The Rev. Dorian McGlannan

Lent 4, 2010

There are two things about today’s gospel reading that every Christian should take to heart. The first is that this is one of the top ten stories in the Bible.  If you do not know this story almost by heart, you are missing one of the most important lens through which we encounter the world of Jesus.  The other thing about this gospel is that if, after you really learn this story, you can in no way identify with the younger son who was the prodigal, you are in denial. As for me, I was a very obvious prodigal.  In fact this story fits my family to the t.  My older sister always did everything right.  She got good grades, was respected by her teachers, attended Smith College, got a good job at Dumbarton Oaks in Washington DC when she graduated, got married and had two children. But then my little prestigious private school got the likes of me. I was not particularly studious, spent much of high school either in front of the television or on the telephone, pushed the limits of age appropriate behavior, culminating in whole host of stories I am not willing to share from the pulpit.  When I reconnected with a couple of high school class mates last summer whom I had not seen for nearly 40 years, they talked about how much fun I seemed to have in those years.  From my viewpoint, I would classify those years as among the most chaotic of my life.  It is amazing how others perceive us. Now just for the record, I need to tell you that my prodigal experience was not all that over the edge.  In fact, by today’s standards it was fairly mild, which explains why I still manage to be shocked at some of the stuff that goes on in today’s high schools.   

Today I’d like to delve into my high school years solely because the true message of the prodigal just might have more to do with being authentic then with any kind of behavior.  What has surprised me the most about other people’s perceptions of me and my experience of high school was that I had the image of the happy go lucky kid who liked to drive fast and host rambunctious slumber parties.  My slumber parties were legendary.  They did not include drugs or alcohol, at least that I can remember.  But they were loud.  We played music danced and told stories, had interminable conversations about boys, did our hair and generally had a good time.  My father slept in a room far away from these parties and provided absolutely no supervision. By this time, my mother was permanently hospitalized in a Veterans Psychiatric Institution far away from home.  As far as I was concerned, my mother did not exist.   I have asked a close friend from childhood if I ever talked about my home situation.  She has told me that I rarely spoke about it.  As one looking back on all of this, I clearly repressed all of the painful memories of growing up with an alcoholic, suicidal mother and worked incredibly hard at presenting the popular girl I wanted to be.  I desperately wanted to fit in and was willing to pay whatever price was necessary in order to do so.  I was a survivor and went onto many adventures as a young adult including leaving home to work on Nantucket Island during the summer between my junior and senior year of high school.  With absolutely no connections, my parentally burned out father let me take off with someone college age guy who gave me a ride to the ferry in Woods Hole and who then took off for some other part of New England.  As I got on that ferry, I had no idea of where I was going to stay that night; nor did I have any idea what I was going to do.  I was simply on an adventure.  My college years, the summers in-between and my post college years were full of adventures.  I worked though most of that time so it was not my father’s money I was squandering but I did a very good job of blazing through every penny I managed to earn.  But inside this seemingly carefree soul, who would disappear for weeks of backpacking in such places as Hawaii and Glacier National Park, was a lost soul. The real story of the prodigal is that of integrating ones wounds and accepting the healing power, grace and love that God has to offer. 

When we read the story of the prodigal, we mostly focus on the prodigal, the younger son who squanders everything and is then welcomed home.  But if we fail to pay attention to the older son, the son who is ever faithful to his father, we miss a big piece of this story.  I sometimes ask people who fit the profile of the older son more than than that of the younger son, what they think about the father’s overwhelming generosity at the return of the younger son who squandered everything.   Often they will express the same kind of resentment that we hear about in the story.  Unfortunately this can be true of Christians who have been faithful all of their lives.  They can get really angry and jealous and self-righteous when it comes to God’s generosity toward some good for nothing who has wasted his or her life.  What they fail to realize is that the prodigals of this world are simply not all that happy.  They might look they are yucking it up but honestly, they’re just not in a very good place. 

Whether or not we are a prodigal, were a prodigal at some point in our past or are currently living with one, the bottom line is that when s prodigal truly return home and get their lives in line with God, there is no reason for anything short of a massive celebration.   If we happen to identify more with the older son in not having gone through all that prodigal stuff, then we too can rejoice when the prodigal returns.  If you managed to escape the prodigal experience and went through your younger years maintaining a sense of hope and purpose, then consider your life blessed and rejoice at the ones who return from having been on the brink. If your response is more along the lines of the older son presented in the gospel, then you have your own integration work to do. 

When all is said and done, the journey of the Christian is that of looking for the peace that passes all understanding.  Struggling with ourselves and our own mistakes or judging others can provide serious obstacles to a center based on God.  The wonder of the story of the prodigal son is that we can easily locate ourselves in this story and then decide how we might want to change.  Then armed with the knowledge that God loves us just as we are, we can approach the creator with our hearts desire to move into the peace that surpasses all understanding.