Liz Zehr

Earlier this spring I had occasion to preach on the story of the prodigal son. And as I reflected on that day’s gospel lesson, I kept asking “who is the real prodigal in this story?”

Certainly, there is the prodigal after whom this parable has been traditionally named – the son – the prodigal son who asked for, received, and then wastefully squandered his share of the father’s inheritance.

But he is not the only, or even the primary prodigal in this story. Our English word prodigal comes from the Latin term prodiger which can properly mean to be either recklessly wasteful or recklessly lavish, recklessly generous.

We see both in this story; but the identity of the primary character, or protagonist, is clear. Jesus does not begin his tale by saying there was a man who had a father and a brother. He begins it by saying “there was a man who had two sons.”  The story is primarily about the prodigal father who offers a lavish, extravagant, seemingly wasteful love to both of his children. It’s primarily about this father who loves each of his children beyond what either of them expects or deserves.

Jesus said, “There was a man who had two sons.” And as the story unfolds, we find that both sons are lost; one in a fog of greed and lasciviousness and the other in a cloud of resentment and jealousy. Both are lost, but the father will let neither of them go. He is determined to love them both, not because of what they’ve done or haven’t done, but simply because of who he is! It is his nature and essence to love.

I’ve often wondered what might have happened if Jesus had decided to spin the story out further. Would the brothers be reconciled? That would tie it all up with a neat little bow, wouldn’t it? Or would there have been further acts of deception or conflict between the brothers? We just don’t know because Jesus didn’t continue the story and chose this point for the narrative to end.  We are left to only speculate.

I think Jesus stops the story here because there are no guarantees of happy endings in this life, no matter how much grace, love, forgiveness and acceptance we might receive. It is guaranteed that those blessings are and will be present for us, for such is the nature of the God who creates, redeems and sustains us.  But what we do with those blessings is another matter entirely.

At our best, we treasure those blessings and share them with a generous prodigal abandon. And when at our worst, we wastefully squander them with a prodigal abandon of quite a different kind. Both inclinations are amply evident in our history and in our lived life today as church.

Our God is a prodigal God who gifts us our church with an abundance of blessing. Blessings of word, sacrament, prayer, song and fellowship. We are privileged to receive those gifts in such prodigal abundance. We dare not take them for granted.  May we receive them with the deep, deep gratitude they warrant and share them with a similarly prodigal abandonment.

You will have received this issue of Canada Lutheran shortly after our celebration of Easter Sunday. This article, however, has been written in mid-February, one week prior to Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent.

Most of our congregations resumed in-person worship this past Sunday with a few to follow in the next few weeks. Government restrictions are being reduced in all four provinces where our synod is present and we are tentatively hoping that our Easter worship will, for the most part, be reminiscent of our pre-pandemic celebrations of the Lord’s resurrection. We shall see.

I find it instructive to remember that the post-resurrection Christ still bore the marks of his crucifixion. Indeed, when he first appears among his disciples, he specifically shows them his wounds, saying, “Touch me and see.”   A week later, he appears again, making a similar revelation to Thomas. Jesus in his post-resurrected form, still bore the marks of his suffering. I suspect that will similarly be true for the church when it physically gathers in its post-pandemic form. We will still bear wounds.

I wonder what impact this virus will have had on how we experience Holy Communion. Will it be safe to eat and drink from a single loaf and a common cup? Will it be safe to share the peace of Christ with actions that include physical touch and not merely a nod or bow? When will I next tuck into a good old congregational potluck with all its attendant tastes, fragrances, and spirited table conversations? How long will the songs of the saints be muffled by the squares of fabric we’ve dutifully worn for more than two years to help protect one another’s safety? I just don’t know.

But just as Jesus’ wounds, though still evident post resurrection, did not define the totality of Jesus’ resurrected being, neither will our pandemic wounds define the totality of the church’s post-pandemic experience. That’s important for us to remember! Indeed, new experiences of being church have come to life during the past two years and I pray we have the good sense to lean into them.

We’ve learned that on-line experiences of worship and gathering can make our assemblies much more accessible. We’ve learned that we can stray beyond the sharply delineated lines of congregational bounds to establish new connections and partnerships. We’ve learned how to better collaborate and share gifts with one another. Many of us have experienced a reset in how we understand the relationship between the people who comprise the church and the buildings in which those people gather.

Those learnings were largely unexpected and certainly came unbidden, as do all gifts of grace! I pray that we treasure them as the precious gifts they are, gifts that may bear possibilities for renewed life and resurrection.  

“But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies.”                      2 Corinthians 4:7-10