Sunday, August 16, 2015

Sermon: A Party for the Prodigal

Rev. Mandy Sloan Flemming
Laguna Beach United Methodist Church
Worship led by Beer & Hymns OC 
August 16, 2015

Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. 2And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” 3So he told them this parable:

11Then Jesus said, “There was a man who had two sons. 12The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’ So he divided his property between them. 13A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. 14When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. 15So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. 16He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. 17But when he came to himself he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! 18I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; 19I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.”’ 20So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. 21Then the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ 22But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; 24for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate. 25“Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. 26He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. 27He replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.’ 28Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. 29But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. 30But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’ 31Then the father said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. 32But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’”

One: This is the Word of God, for us, the people of God.
ALL: Thanks be to God.

            “There was a man who had two sons.” If you have spent any amount of time in or near a church, it is likely that you know how this story goes. It is one of the most recognized stories from the Bible, and one of the most perplexing.  Right away, we are invited to hear about these three characters and are welcomed into their world, their story. There is a father, who is mysteriously singular in his parenting tasks. There are two sons, brothers, who are different in every way. The older son is responsible, frugal, and loyal. The younger son is selfish, short-sighted, and reckless. Of course, you know the end of the story. The younger boy asks for his share of the inheritance, and leaves the farm, spending his money on prostitutes and gambling. He loses everything and realizes that the servants at his father’s house have a better life than he. So he returns, pitiful speech prepared, and is greeted not with judgment but with relief. His father welcomes him home, prepares the fatted calf and they feast. Meanwhile, the older son has become furious over the turn of events. But, the father forgives his brother, nonetheless.
            If I asked you to pick a character in the story with whom you most closely identify, you wouldn’t have much trouble deciding. Either you love the younger son – the one who is welcomed home – or you identify with the older, loyal son. It is rare that we find ourselves identifying with the father figure. He’s a mystery – why did he give the son his inheritance, when this is tantamount to the younger son saying, “You’re worth more to me dead than alive, and I want my share.” And why, even if he is tremendously relieved, did he welcome the younger son home with such reckless abandon? No consequences? No stern lectures about how things are going to be from now on?
            I have always identified most closely with the older brother. He is the responsible one who never rocks the boat. He does what is expected. He stays close to home. He is frugal and wise and completely faithful to his father. He is begrudging of his younger brother and downright hateful upon his return. I cannot say that I blame him. As an only child, I always craved siblings, but this story caught me off guard. It seems as though even siblings aren’t exactly best friends. Or, frankly, the secret to a healthy social life. They can highlight everything you strive not to be, embody the characteristics you pride yourself most in not displaying, and somehow still manage to endear the affection of your parents. Siblings are, in short, the worst. Or, at least, this one is. My sympathies have always been aligned with the older brother, the loyal and faithful one who doesn’t even get a goat with which to celebrate with his friends.
            But, if I’m being fair, what would he celebrate? It seems as though he’s unmarried, so there are no progeny coming his way. Would he delight in a fine day in the fields? A particularly beautiful sunset? The cost of living a very safe and responsible lifestyle is that it is without drama. It has probably never occurred to him to ask for a goat, which it seems likely his father would have happily given him. Rather, he is content to feast on his dinner each night, just like he’s always done. Perhaps he took too much joy in the fact that there was more meat for him once his brother left. Perhaps he noticed the subtle ways in which life was better for him, more plentiful. His father spent nights wondering about his lost son, and this child rejoiced when he got seconds on dessert. No man is without sin.
            The younger brother is certainly a character. He will be remembered through the ages as the “Prodigal Son.” Prodigal, in case you’re curious, simply means “one who spends money in a recklessly extravagant way.” I’ve always assumed there was a redemptive undertone to this title – the one who was lost, and then was found, but this is not the case. He is marked for all of time with the title of Spendthrift. I have a hard time associating with this character, because I find him so distastefully unlike me. He’s arrogant, rude, and cares only of his own way in the world. He is the one who approaches his father and asks for his share of the property. To him, it has no value except for what it can give him. This child has likely not known hardship. He has grown up comfortably, with little concern for day-to-day security. Because of this, it has no value to him. So, he gathers all he has and travels to a distant country, squandering everything in debauchery. Then, of course, things get hard. As it would happen, a famine comes upon the land in which he is living. He has nothing and there is little to spare, so he hires himself out to feed pigs.
            As an older-brother type, I take a certain pleasure in considering the foolish man, who once was rich and arrogant, but finds himself feeding the pigs of a stranger in a strange land. If you’ve ever seen “Avenue Q,” you know that this is called “schadenfreude,” or experiencing joy in the suffering of others. The lofty has been brought low! The first is indeed last! Isn’t this the stuff of Gospel promise?
            Except that Jesus tells us in the story that, “he came to himself.” The only way this could happen would be in a moment of desperation and clarity. Here he is, lost, alone in a strange land, far from those who have loved and cared for him and with no way to return because of his shame. There is another part of me who sees not an arrogant man, but a lost little boy. My heart warms a bit. Then he begins his resolution:  ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “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.”’ Then, I don’t feel so sympathetic. Jesus frames this story as one of repentance and rejoicing over a lost sheep, as though this boy is repentant. But it’s not clear that he has repented of anything except poverty. It is only his own suffering that causes him to return to his father, not a change of heart.
            Then we encounter the most perplexing part of the story. The part I have the most difficult time understanding. The father, seeing his lost son in the distance, runs to him.  Jesus tells us that he was “filled with compassion,” or as I humbly recognize is the opposite of schadenfreude. He feels concern for the suffering of his son, and he runs to him, embraces him, and stops him halfway through his apology (just before the son can insist that his father treat him like one of his hired hands). He tells the servants to bring out a robe – the best one – and to give him a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet.  He is falling all over himself to honor this arrogant and selfish boy.
            On my best day, I can see this as a beautiful reunion between a heartbroken father and a lost son. I can recognize the sense of relief that comes with the reappearance of your precious boy, who left of his own accord with no clear intent to return. I can imagine my own overwhelming relief at the joy of seeing the face of my child whom I worried I would never see again. But, this father is more gracious than me. My embrace would be quickly followed by a lecture, a stern talking-to, finger wagging. But this father says, “Go and
get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’
            Then comes the part of the story that we’re all waiting for. The older son called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.’ This is when it gets good, right? The older brother becomes angry and refuses to go see his sibling and his father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’ Then the father said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’”
            I share the older son’s fury. This isn’t fair. You and I both know that life isn’t fair, but this seems to highlight the absolute injustice of the world. I stay, and I get nothing, but he squanders everything and gets a party? Where is my party?! But the father reminds his oldest boy what he most needs to hear, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.” Including this spendthrift brother, this burden of loss, this terrible anxiety that is now relieved. What they share is more than property or even the bond of family. What they share is the same emotional responsibility for the lost son, and all that entails.
            But this story isn’t about me. And it’s not about the sons. It’s about the father. Jesus tells this story to the grumbling Pharisees because they, like me, are more concerned with the disreputable company Jesus is keeping rather than the awareness of their need for grace and acceptance. If we are to look for ourselves in this story, we cannot be found through the righteous indignation of the older son. We cannot be found in the debauchery of the younger son. We cannot be found in the sympathy of the father. No, we can only be found as the child who receives grace when we deserve none. The only way for us to comprehend this story is for us to recognize ourselves in the relief of forgiveness, even when we don’t ask for it properly.
            That’s because this isn’t just a story about us, and our tendencies. It’s a story about God. Our perspective must shift to comprehend what Jesus is teaching: grace above legality, compassion over shadenfreude, forgiveness without a lecture. We are all homeless prodigals, and all of us deserve less than what God gives. This is not a great comeback story. It’s not the story of a boy pulling himself up by his bootstraps or loyalty being rewarded. It’s not the prodigal’s poor and misguided apology that forces his father to set the banquet table any more than our remorse encourages God to prepare the table for us, THIS table. We cannot throw our own party. The good news is that we don’t have to. It’s already been done for us. All we need to do is show up and celebrate with the one who loves us most.


In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Above is the call to prayer, "Sweet, Sweet Spirit," led by Lauren Francis, Kristen Howerton and Mandy Flemming. 

Sunday, August 2, 2015

Sermon: YOU are the Man!

Rev. Mandy Sloan Flemming
Laguna Beach United Methodist Church
SundayAugust 2, 2015

“YOU are the Man!”

2 Samuel 11:26 - 12:15

           When the wife of Uriah heard that her husband was dead, she made lamentation for him. When the mourning was over, David sent and brought her to his house, and she became his wife, and bore him a son. But the thing that David had done displeased the Lord, and the Lord sent Nathan to David. He came to him, and said to him,
           “There were two men in a certain city, the one rich and the other poor. The rich man had very many flocks and herds; but the poor man had nothing but one little ewe lamb, which he had bought. He brought it up, and it grew up with him and with his children; it used to eat of his meager fare, and drink from his cup, and lie in his bosom, and it was like a daughter to him.
           Now there came a traveler to the rich man, and he was loath to take one of his own flock or herd to prepare for the wayfarer who had come to him, but he took the poor man’s lamb, and prepared that for the guest who had come to him.”
           Then David’s anger was greatly kindled against the man. He said to Nathan, “As the Lord lives, the man who has done this deserves to die; he shall restore the lamb fourfold, because he did this thing, and because he had no pity.”
           Nathan said to David, “You are the man! Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: I anointed you king over Israel, and I rescued you from the hand of Saul; I gave you your master’s house, and your master’s wives into your bosom, and gave you the house of Israel and of Judah; and if that had been too little, I would have added as much more. Why have you despised the word of the Lord, to do what is evil in his sight? You have struck down Uriah the Hittite with the sword, and have taken his wife to be your wife, and have killed him with the sword of the Ammonites. Now therefore the sword shall never depart from your house, for you have despised me, and have taken the wife of Uriah the Hittite to be your wife.
           Thus says the Lord: I will raise up trouble against you from within your own house; and I will take your wives before your eyes, and give them to your neighbor, and he shall lie with your wives in the sight of this very sun. For you did it secretly; but I will do this thing before all Israel, and before the sun.”
           David said to Nathan, “I have sinned against the Lord.” Nathan said to David, “Now the Lord has put away your sin; you shall not die. Nevertheless, because by this deed you have utterly scorned the Lord, the child that is born to you shall die.”

Then Nathan went to his house. The Lord struck the child that Uriah’s wife bore to David, and it became very ill.

One: This is the word of God for us, the people of God.
All: Thanks be to God.

Last week, we heard the story of David and Bathsheba, and concluded with the hope that God can redeem the most broken of people, the most blatant of sinners. If God can redeem David, think how much God can redeem us.
           Today, we hear the story of David’s conviction. David, the beloved of God, the one from whom our Savior has descended, the king of Israel, has been caught. After all, before any sort of redemption, there must be confession. The prophet, Nathan, comes to David and tells him a parable about a rich man who has many flocks, but when a traveler comes to visit, he takes the beloved lamb of a poor man. One who has much takes the sole, tender possession of one who has little. David hears the parable, and doesn’t recognize that this story is Nathan’s wise attempt to convict him of his guilt.
           “The bait is set and David seizes it: what the rich man has done is unconscionable. David is incensed and swears a rather elaborate oath in the Lord’s name that the rich man must restore the poor man’s lamb many times over. It may be that David also issues the death penalty for the rich man. At the very least, the rich man will pay dearly; he may also have to pay with his life. ”[1]
           But then the blow is struck by Nathan: “You are that man!” In Hebrew this phrase is only two words long, and is the second of three important two-word phrases that drive the plot in this story. This is a story that includes much detail, but the pivotal moments are told with great economy of language. When Bathsheba comes to David to announce her pregnancy, she says, simply, “harâ anokî,” ָא ֹנ ִכ י ָה ָר ה “I am pregnant.” Two words to change their lives. Two words upon which hang the possibility of choice and consequence. The choice David makes is clearly the wrong one. In a host of already bad decisions, he opts for the most harmful solution to his present problem. He has Uriah, Bathsheba’s husband, deliver his own death sentence to the general who sends him to the front lines of battle.
           After David receives word of Uriah’s death, he sends for Bathsheba and makes her his wife. But, these things displeased the Lord, and the prophet Nathan was sent to convey God’s displeasure. Parables are God’s way of speaking to those who have ears to hear. So often, parables seem to confuse more than they explain. But, perhaps this is an indication of David’s connection with God. The parable Nathan shares cuts to the chase; David gets it. And, Nathan’s response to David’s reaction: “You are that man!” (attâ ha-îš) demonstrates the simplicity of his conviction. God knows! Nathan knows. David has not escaped judgment.
But, David’s response is his own two-word phrase after hearing God’s judgment through Nathan, “I’ve sinned against the LORD” (ah-ah-tî la-YHWH). Much is communicated with very few words in this narrative. Big things hang on two-word phrases.
I’m pregnant. harâ anokî
YOU are the man! attâ ha-îš
I’ve sinned against the Lord. ah-ah-tî la-YHWH
This is the entire story of what could have been David’s fall from grace. But, one thing is critical to note. This doesn’t end with a press conference or excuses. David does what many of us can’t: he confesses that he has sinned against the Lord.
           God has every right to be angry. God says to David, “I anointed you king. I rescued you from Saul’s hand. I gave you a house, wives, the house of Israel and Judah. AND, ‘if that had been too little, I would have added as much more.’” WHY, David? Why? Why have you despised the word of the Lord, to do what is evil in God’s sight? For a man who has everything, why has he sought to take what belonged to another?
            The consequences of David’s actions are real. God says that he will give his wives into the hands of his neighbor. Trouble will be raised up in David’s house, and the sword will never depart from it. If ever we wonder about God’s willingness to punish the righteous, we can see from this account that no one is exempt from the judgment of the Lord, including the one “after God’s own heart.”
            There is no doubt in anyone’s mind that what David did was wrong. Nathan’s visit and parabolic re-telling of David’s actions are to ensure that David himself can understand the gravity of his actions. Can he? Is it possible for the anointed one of God to feel contrition, guilt? To be accountable?
            What we hear in David’s response is an absence of denial. “He hears Nathan’s parable, hears the two-word conclusion, attâ ha-îš (“You are that man!”) and replies with a stunningly quick and brief two-word confession: ah-ah-tî la-YHWH (“I’ve sinned against the LORD”). It almost seems too quick, too brief. We’d like to hear David say more, be more contrite, than just two words. And yet, with only two words at hand, David doesn’t deny, he confesses. Immediately, quickly, without excuse -- in front of Nathan and God and all others who witnessed this dialogue. There he is: Great king David, a man after God’s own heart, an adulterous, murderous sinner. And yet, there he is: adulterous, murderous, sinful David,confessing. Perhaps he is a man after God’s own heart after all because he is somehow able to hear God’s judgment and immediately accept it and the results that follow upon it.”[2]
           But, what we want for someone who has done such wrong is an admission of guilt, a litany of sorrow and grief, an acknowledgement of the hurt he has caused. We’d like to hear him talk about how he knows his wrongdoings and how his sin is always right in front of him (Psalm 51:3). We’d like to hear him say that he knows God is correct in judging him (Psalm 51:4b). We’d like to hear him beg for mercy and forgiveness (Psalm 51:1-2, 7-13). But that response doesn’t happen, at least not with Nathan present.
           But, let us not forget that there was “a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord.” That chord is what resonates in Psalm 51, the prayer for cleansing and pardon, which David writes after Nathan’s prophetic visit.
            Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions.
            Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.
For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.
Against you, you alone, have I sinned, and done what is evil in your sight, so that you are justified in your sentence and blameless when you pass judgment.
Indeed, I was born guilty, a sinner when my mother conceived me.
You desire truth in the inward being; therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart.
Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones that you have crushed rejoice.
Hide your face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities.
Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me. Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your holy spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and sustain in me a willing spirit.
Then I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners will return to you.
           Deliver me from bloodshed, O God, O God of my salvation, and my tongue will sing aloud of your deliverance.
O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise. For you have no delight in sacrifice; if I were to give a burnt-offering, you would not be pleased.
The sacrifice acceptable to God is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.
           Do good to Zion in your good pleasure; rebuild the walls of Jerusalem, then you will delight in right sacrifices, in burnt-offerings and whole burnt-offerings; then bulls will be offered on your altar.

“Remembering the fullness of this story can help us see all of life as the theater for God's wily, costly, persistent performance of redemption.”[3]