Rector's Reflection—Lent 4 C
March 14, 2010
This is Prodigal Son Sunday. Or it's The Gracious Father Sunday. Or it's The Forgiving Father Sunday. Or it's the Sunday when so often you are asked, "With which character do you identify?"
Only Luke's gospel has Jesus telling this parable (so we only read it once every three years) but I am guessing that, short of the Christmas and Easter stories, this is probably one of the best known Bible stories, crossing denominational lines... and even religions. It may, in fact, be so well known that right now your eyes are glazing over or they're looking for something else to read.
It's parables like this one that usually leave me staring at my computer screen, trying to figure out what brilliant point I can make that has gone unmade for a couple of thousand years and by more than a couple of thousand interpreters. I'd love to tell you that this is the year that I figured it out... but that wouldn't be accurate.
What did get me thinking in a different (at least for me) way was the behavior of the older brother. I've heard stories from first-borns who were and are resentful of the youngest child getting all the perks while the eldest got all the pokes. My own father's family story (he was the eldest) was about as sad as a growing-up story could be without being fiction. The premise of this parable seems to transcend generations, so presumably the first hearers 'got it' right off the bat.
Anyway, back to my different thinking... As I read the parable for the umpteenth time looking for that "I've never heard that before," moment, I suddenly thought about a wonderful old priest (actually the retired bishop of Louisiana) who lived in Sewanee. On the first Sunday in Lent, every year, regardless of where he was celebrating, Bishop Girault Jones had the congregation say the Decalogue (BCP, 317) and then he would preach on it. The Decalogue (Ten Commandments) was as foundational for Bishop Jones as were the Incarnation and the Resurrection.
And now for the connection! The tenth commandment in 1928 language is: "Thou shalt not covet." In NRSV Exodus language, it's fleshed out a bit: "You shall not covet your neighbor's house; you shall not covet your neighbor's wife, or male or female slave, or ox, or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor." Hmmm... there are two shalts and eight shalt nots, and out of ALL the things human beings shouldn't do, coveting made the cut.
I would bet that you have heard covet used as a sort of compliment to show desirability or admiration for something that belongs to someone else: "Ooooo, I just covet that handbag." Admire, maybe... but covet—hopefully not.
I think coveting is the hang-up for the older brother in this parable. In fact, he may be the poster child for coveting. Yes, he's whiny. Yes, he's rude and impudent. Yes, he's the proclaimer of "That's not fair." But worst of all, he covets.
Coveting, at its core, is not about liking something that someone has and wanting one just like it. Coveting isn't desiring things that may out of reach. Coveting isn't jealousy. Coveting is wanting something someone else has AND wanting them not to have it. Coveting is desire gone wrong. Coveting is desire gone destructive.
The older son, in addition to breaking traditions and violating good manners of that time, has run afoul of the tenth commandment. The way in which he speaks to his father is ghastly and I don't find jealousy in what he says about "this son." Big brother doesn't want a party, too. Big brother wants a party and wants little brother back in the pig sty... and that's coveting.
The worst thing about coveting is that it destroys community. It operates on the principle that I don't have 'x' but you do, so I'll take 'x' and make it mine.
Where Jesus leaves us in this parable opens up huge opportunities for us to write "the rest of the story." I've always wondered what Abraham and Isaac talked about on the way home from their day in the country. And I also wonder what became of the older son. He needed to repent just as much as his brother needed to repent. At the end of that day, I wonder if the older brother went inside his father's house to ask his forgiveness.
Susan+