Sermon 08.11.2024: Disturbing Parables: A Shameless God

In the first of three sermons on famous parables of Jesus we look at the Parable of the Prodigal Son. Parables are meant to disturb us, and upend the usual way we look at things and think about the world. If Jesus’ story was about a shameless son, then there is another character who is also shameless—the parent. What would it mean for us to think about God as being utterly shameless?

Scripture

Luke 15:11-32 

The Parable of the Lost Son

11 Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them. 

13 “Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. 14 After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. 16 He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything. 

17 “When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! 18 I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ 20 So he got up and went to his father. 

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. 

21 “The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ 

22 “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. 24 For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate. 

25 “Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. 27 ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’ 

28 “The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. 29 But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’ 

31 “‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’” 

Sermon Text

I've been thinking a lot this week about shame.

I can see your anxious faces from here! Don’t worry. I haven’t done anything terrible. Marci’s office is still in one peace, and I haven’t got up to any misadventures while in town. 

But I have been thinking about shame—in relation to today’s gospel reading. I’ve been thinking about shame and the extent to which it’s a help, or a hindrance in our lives. 

We learn shame when we are young. That first time when you get told off by your parent and you know you have disappointed them. That sense of shame seems worse than any punishment itself. Perhaps shame is useful in its ability to teach us remorse and learn from our mistakes. 

On the other hand, shame can be deeply destructive. Too often shame is a barrier to people reaching out for help when they face challenge, trouble. A sense of shame at not coping, or struggling with something, is too often a barrier to sharing a problem and receiving help. 

Shame does not always even belong to us. Sometimes others foist shame onto us for things that they are uncomfortable with, and we have no need to be ashamed of. 

Shame is central to today’s gospel reading, the story of the prodigal son. It is a story of two characters who know no shame. 

The first a shameless son, the second a shameless Father or Parent. Its cultural setting in the first century is one of a deeply honor/shame culture. Such societies still exist in parts of the world today, if less so here. 

And Jesus is sitting and sharing a meal with his friends, people described as ‘sinners’. In the culture of the day, they were the shameless. Those considered beyond the pale by and religious people. Yet, these were the very people Jesus devoted his time to. 

Others cast their critical eye, and ask Jesus why he mixes with such shameful people? Has he no shame himself? 

Jesus answers them with a story that describes what God is like—a God of shameless love. 

The story is a tale of two brothers. The elder brother is trustworthy, good, and faithful; the younger—spoiled, self-centered, and callous. I don’t know if this plays into any of your family dynamics. Fortunately, I’m an only child. So, I can’t pass comment on whether the youngest child is usually spoilt. I’ll leave you to discuss that at coffee hour! 

Anyway, this younger brother prematurely demands his share of his father’s estate before his father is even dead—a hurtful, offensive and shameful act. Converting his inheritance into cash, he leaves his family behind—practically waving his fingers at them, as he goes on his way. He wastes everything on what our English translation calls ‘dissolute living’ (there’s a euphemism if ever you heard one). You can fill in the blanks! It’s only when the cash runs out and the consequences hit him, that the son realizes his mistake. 

But by now he’s feeding pigs—something Jesus’ Galilean listeners would have gasped in horror at. The boy has practically become a gentile. This kid is shameless. He has thrown everything back in his family’s face. First claiming his inheritance before time, then squandering it, and to cap it all sinking to the depths of gentile life. Utterly shameless. 

But there the story turns. His luck having run out he realizes he’d a have a better life working for his Father, and so the younger son turns back, not so much in repentance to be honest, more like pragmatism. 

People always remember this story as the Prodigal Son. But I wonder if in fact, the main character in the story is not the youngest son at all, but his Father. 

Seeing his youngest boy in the distance, he also entirely breaks the honor code of his culture, by running to greet him, with emotion—despite the injury and all of the hurt his son has caused him. 

Jesus’ listeners would have been horrified. Not only is it against cultural expectations, it compounds the family shame upon shame. 

But undeterred, the son’s disgrace is forgiven, and parent and son are reconciled. 

Not only is the son shameless, but so is his parent—but shameless in a different kind of way. Shameless in love. 

This is a story which tells us what God is like, Shameless in love, and why Jesus kept the company he so often did. God is like the parent in the story—the parent who runs and opens his arms wide to welcome his children back. Even us. 

Surprisingly (we might think) there is no ticking off of the son, no remorse required, and no conditions set. The only emotion the father shows is an unconditional and shameless love, welcoming his son back and proclaiming a feast. 

The purpose of the parables Jesus told us was in some sense to bring comfort but in another, you know, to disturb us, and shake up our way of seeing the world. And although we might think there is something comforting about thinking of God in these terms, there is also something disturbing about this allegorical reading of the parable. 

The eldest son bears witness to this disturbance in his sulk upon his shameless brother’s return. 

This love which forgives and celebrates his return goes beyond what is reasonable. If we are honest, and we were the elder brother we might feel similarly. 

For ourselves we might appreciate this shameless love and forgiveness, but despite our Lord’s prayer, are we really always ready to dish it out to others? 

How are we to make sense of this Shameless love? 

Of all the theological writing I have ever read that tries to articulate the fullness of the love that is God, the most profound, is by the late English clergyman William Vanstone. 

In his landmark book ‘Love’s endeavor, love’s expense’, Vanstone’s conviction is that God is love, and that this love is most clearly revealed in the life and person of Jesus. 

He describes God’s love as being authentic love, and argus that this love’s authenticity is marked by three characteristics, its unlimited reach, its precariousness, and its vulnerability. 

These three aspects of authentic love are revealed in this parable, and more fully in Jesus’ life itself. 

If there is one word to describe God’s love for his world, it is unlimited. To be kind is to forgive someone after they apologize. To love is to forgive regardless. Kindness is limited but authentic love is not. 

God is love. 

Love knows no barriers or limits. It will go to endless lengths to express itself, even after repudiation and rejection. Authentic loves never gives up on people. 

God is love. 

Authentic love always seeks to widen its reach to those considered on the margins or beyond the pale. It is not narrow or self-serving. This authentic love we name God gives more of itself to others, not less. 

That is the love of God we see in Jesus. 

God is love. 

In all his meetings with so called outcasts, and sinners - those on the margins of society, traitors and collaborators, the opposed and indifferent, Jesus, like the parent in the story, meets people on their own terms. He meets where they are, and as they are. Oh that as churches we could have the same gift. 

All through his life Jesus showed the compassion and love of God to people hitherto considered unworthy. Our God friends is Shameless. There is no one beyond the reach of God’s grace. 

For Vanstone, the meaning of the cross is to be a visual representation of the lengths to which God goes to communicate their love for all people. And it awaits a response from all of us. 

This unlimited character of God’s love shows itself on the cross, where Christ empties himself of everything, even his last breath to show us God’s love, and he hangs there exhausted from his labor, his love spent. 

If God’s authentic love is unlimited, in reality it also precarious. 

In the story this is illustrated by the father’s acquiesce that his son should prematurely take his inheritance. If it was shameful for the son to ask, in a sense it was also shameful for the father to accede to his wish, but he did. Why? 

Because authentic love is precarious. 

So often in life people show us love that also tries to control us, it may even be manipulative. 

People who give gifts in an attempt to make us look more favorably upon them; parents who bankroll their children in hope of retaining some influence over their life choices. It is the most human thing even as we love, to love in a way that still retains the hope of retaining favor, or influence on those for whom we care. 

In the story however, when this parent gives over his wealth, leaves it completely in his son’s hands, he concedes any influence he might exert on his son’s future. He has lost any influence or control he had. It’s over to his son. 

In the same way God’s love for each of us is precarious. It goes out to us all of us in the knowledge that it may end in triumph or tragedy. 

God’s love may be returned in devotion and seeking for faith or spurned with apathy or downright hostility. 

Certainly, the authentic nature of this love calls for a response, all love does. 

But my point is that God’s love comes without pre-conditions. Love is precarious. 

Finally, God’s authentic love is vulnerable. 

Love’s endeavor is indeed love’s expense. It is vulnerable. Love makes itself vulnerable for the good of others. We see this vulnerable character of love revealed, not only in the life and death of Jesus, but in the lives of people all over the world today. 

I recently read in the Times of London, the story of Aliona Noha. A resident of Kharkiv, in Ukraine, she penned a diary piece for the newspaper. She wrote: 

“My friend and I were about 200 metres from my house when we heard loud noises and saw projectiles flying. It was the first time I was on the street during live shelling rather than underground. 

It’s difficult for me to express the emotions that I experienced at that moment. Horror, fear, numbness, the desire to hide, curl up into a ball, like a small kitten, and not see or hear all this. But we just stood and watched the flying shells.” 

She continues, “My life has changed so much since the war started. I’ve lost so many things familiar to me I took for granted. My planning horizon is reduced to one or two days—it’s impossible to make plans without knowing whether you will survive the night, whether your loved ones will be alive tomorrow and whether you will still have a home. Long-term goals disappeared by themselves.” 

How has Aliona responded to such terror? 

By volunteering at a local community center where she helps unpack, sort and distribute aid that comes from all over Europe. 

For sure, she’d be safer in a bunker, but she would rather help her neighbors, whatever the considerable personal risk to her own life and safety, even as the shells fall and explode around her and other volunteers. 

Self-deprecating of her own sacrifice Aliona writes, “One day I found a child’s drawing in one of the boxes with children’s things. A house, flowers and the Ukrainian flag were drawn on a piece of paper. And a signature in German from a six-year-old boy. It was hard for me to hold back tears. I will never forget this help and support from people from all over the world.” 

Aliona’s love is an authentic love. One rooted in the authentic, shameless love of God. 

A love shown in the face of abject danger and hostility, and a love that can overcome even the deepest darkness. A love more powerful than death. 

This love, my friends, is calling us every day to be brave and live out the gospel. To embody in our life together, the good news. 

Shameless loving, shamelessly reaching out to those on the margins, loving even though it is precarious, and can make us vulnerable. 

That is the nature of authentic love. This is the love we are called to live. 

The shameless love, of a shameless God. 

Thanks be to God. Amen.