love with reckless abandon (the prodigal dad)

All Saints Episcopal Church
Lent 4, Year C

Readings found here.

Out of all the Gospels, Luke is my favorite. Sure, the other Gospels have some powerful things to say as well, but there will always be a soft spot in my heart for Luke. You see, Luke is an amazing storyteller, and his stories portray Jesus as the champion of the marginalized. Luke’s Jesus is a guy who’s not afraid to get his hands dirty: he hangs out with the poor and the oppressed, he cures lepers, and he even enjoys eating with sinners and tax collectors (gasp!). This gets him in trouble with the religious leaders--the Pharisees. In response to their grumbling, Jesus tells the story of the prodigal son. 

The Prodigal Son. I bet most of you have heard of it; I think only the Good Samaritan is more familiar than this story. Prodigal means wasteful or reckless (Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary), and this certainly describes the action of the younger son. Biblical editors gave it this title, but I think this story should be called something different. How about: The Two Most Ungrateful Sons. Ever. 

Case #1: The younger son strolls up to his dad one day and says, “I’m sick of waiting around for you to die. I want my share of the land now.” When his father gives it to him, he waits a few days and then sells it. All of it! Let’s think about this: The land means everything to the Israelites. It’s the land promised to them by God after walking around the desert for 40 years. It’s the land that they were kept away from during the Exile. It’s their home. To sell it means he has no respect for his culture or his family, or even God. 

With the money he makes from selling the land, the younger son takes off, leaving behind all that he has ever known. He spends all of the money just in time for a famine to hit. Completely broke, he hires himself out to a pig farmer. Not only is this gross, but it’s a cultural taboo; Jews aren’t supposed to be around pigs (they are considered unclean, so their meat is forbidden). On top of all of this, he’s starving but no one gives him anything to eat. This is pretty much as low as he can get. He decides that he’d be better off working as a servant for his dad than where he is now. So, motivated by food, and not necessarily repentance, he returns home. 

Case #2: The older son has a hissy fit when he finds out there is a party going on for his delinquent little brother. He tears into his dad, complaining that he’s been working his butt off with no appreciation. “You never threw me a party!” he whines. “But your son, who, may I remind you, wasted his money and dishonored your name, comes waltzing back home and you throw him a huge party! This is so unfair!”

What did I tell you? Most ungrateful sons ever. 

But if we focus on the two sons solely, we miss out on talking about the father. He’s actually the main character in this story. So let me propose another title: The Prodigal Dad. 

Wait--what? You may be thinking, “Lara, what do you mean? The dad isn’t wasteful or reckless--he's just a big softie!” My point exactly. The father’s love for his children is so great that it could be considered reckless. He loves his kids with reckless abandon, even though they don’t deserve it!

Case #1: When the younger son asks for his share of the inheritance, the father gives it to him. When the son sells the land and moves out of town, his dad doesn’t chase him down. According to Deuteronomy (Deut. 21:18–21), a son who is rebellious and disobedient is supposed to be stoned to death. But the father lets him go, even though it breaks his heart. 

We don’t know how the father reacted at first. Maybe he was angry and bitter, maybe he was sad and mopey. All we know is that when the younger son finally returns home, he doesn’t even make it to the house before his dad is running to him. You can just imagine the dad, searching out the window day after day, just willing his child to return to him. And when he finally sees the familiar form walking up the pathway, he doesn’t stop to think twice, but, filled with compassion, he lifts his robes and runs to him. He doesn’t care about what his son did to him, he doesn’t care about whether or not his neighbors see him running like a fool; all he cares about is having his baby boy back, safe and sound. His joy is so great that he ignores his son’s apology and throws him a huge party, inviting the entire community to join in the celebration.  

Case #2: At some point the father realizes that the older son is not there. He leaves the party to come find him. He sees the son stewing outside and brushes aside the son’s yelling and accusations. “My son, you have always been by my side. Now that I’ve given away your brother’s share of the inheritance, literally everything I have is yours. You could have asked me for something, and I would have given it to you. But we have to celebrate your brother’s return. Don’t you get it? He was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found!” 

We don’t know if the younger son is ever truly sorry for what he had done. And we don’t know if the older son ever swallows his pride and joins the party. All we know is that the father repeatedly demonstrates his unconditional love for his children, even when they do not deserve it. 

Think back to right before the beginning of the story. The passage begins with Jesus hanging out with tax collectors and sinners; people considered less than by society, people the younger son probably hung out with. And yet, despite their wrongdoing, despite their dishonest way of life, Jesus welcomes them to his table, shares meals and stories and laughter with them. Loves them with reckless abandon. 

This upsets the Pharisees, the religious leaders who devote their lives to having a right relationship with God. They know that maintaining a relationship with God is hard work. So, like the older son, they are upset when people who don’t follow the rules are invited to the table. Now, I don’t think the Pharisees are evil. The Pharisees believe that the way to honor God is to follow strict rules so that they will be holy, set apart. They’ve got so much respect for God, but the problem is, it’s all vertical, top-down. Don’t get me wrong; I think we need to have a healthy sense of awe for God, to appreciate that God is powerful and mysterious and there is no way we can ever comprehend all that God is. 

But Jesus comes to show us that our relationship with God should not be based on fear.  Jesus shows us that God’s love is unconditional. We are loved just as we are with reckless abandon, regardless of our past or future sins. And if we truly believe that we are all created in the image of God, then we are called to recognize God in each other. God is not just hanging out up in the sky somewhere; God is in our very midst! One of the most moving lines in Victor Hugo’s book Les Misérables is this: “to love another person is to see the face of God.” This is what Jesus is trying to tell us! In Jesus, God becomes human. In Jesus, God spends time healing the sick and feeding the hungry and teaching the “wrong crowd.” In Jesus, God is hung upon a cross like a criminal. What greater example of God loving us with reckless abandon is there? 

This is why we come together every week. We come to be reminded of our baptism into God’s family. A baptism that calls us to "respect the dignity of every human being" (BCP 305)--to purposefully seek out the marginalized and the pious and bring them to the table. This table. Here, we become equals in God’s eyes. Here, we approach the altar in all our brokenness and bitterness and receive unlimited forgiveness. Here we taste and see that God is so good. 

In this season of penitence, we seek to strengthen our relationship with God. We ask God’s forgiveness for the times we mess up. Remember, God’s love is not wasted on any of us. Regardless of our past, God is watching for us, ready at any moment to gather us in his arms and invite us in.

picture found here

coming down the mountain

All Saints Episcopal Church
Last Sunday after Epiphany, Year C
February 9-10, 2013

Here are the readings.

May the words I speak and the words you hear be God’s alone. Amen.

In today’s readings we hear about two extraordinary events that take place on mountaintops. In the Bible, mountains are where many people have experiences of God. In the Old Testament we find Moses descending Mount Sinai carrying the Ten Commandments, the Law that God gave to Moses to help the Israelites know how to be in communion with God and with each other. Note that this is the second time Moses has had to go up to the mountain to get them--the first time he comes down with them, he finds the people worshiping a golden cow, and becomes so upset that he throws the tablets on the ground, destroying them. God, at Moses’ urging, has given the Israelites a second chance, and this time when Moses comes down, the people have behaved. But Moses has changed. His face is glowing, reflecting the light and glory of God. He is altered by his experience of God.

Luke tells us that Jesus also encounters God on a mountain. A few days earlier, Peter says that Jesus is the Messiah, the one who is going to restore Israel to its former glory. But Jesus immediately redefines what his role as Messiah means. He will not be marching triumphantly to take his place as ruler of Israel; rather he will face suffering, rejection, and death before being raised up again. Now we find him on the top of a mountain with his inner circle of disciples (Peter, James, and John), praying to God. All of a sudden Jesus’ face changes, and the disciples see him talking with Moses and Elijah! They chat about Jesus’ approaching death. Are they giving him instructions? Encouragement? Whatever it is, Peter is really impressed. As he and the others rub the sleep out of their eyes, Peter blurts out, “This is awesome--glad we’re here to see it! Let’s mark this occasion by setting up three tents so you guys can stay here.” At this point they are surrounded by a cloud, and God speaks to them from the cloud telling them to listen to Jesus, God’s Son, God’s Chosen One. The cloud departs and the four of them find themselves alone and speechless.

How many of us have had mountaintop experiences? Times when the world and God and our lives make sense, when we feel like we are connected, safe, confident of our purpose on earth? Perhaps we feel this way when we are out in nature, when we leave our busy lives of work or school behind and take some time to just be. Maybe we feel this way when we play a sport or exercise or make music or paint. For me it often happens when I go on retreat or vacation or to camp. It can be so tempting to stay in those moments, to pitch tents and plant our feet and refuse to leave. But at some point, we have to come down off the mountain. Back to work, back to school, back to reality. Jesus comes down the mountain knowing that it will lead to his death. But I think talking with Moses and Elijah gives him courage to continue along the path. Maybe mountaintop experiences give us clarity of purpose and strengthen us to face whatever lies at the foot of the mountain.

Seasonally, we are preparing to come down the mountain. At Christmas we celebrate Christ’s birth into the world, which is followed by Epiphany, the season of light. We are leaving the mountaintop of Christmas and Epiphany and entering into the desert. This coming week will mark the beginning of Lent, the season of self-reflection, discipline, and penitence. Many people use this season to give up things that distract them from God and/or adopt practices that bring them closer to God. At All Saints this Lent we will be focusing on issues of social justice. We’ll read what the prophets Amos and Hosea have to say about injustice. We’ll listen to speakers describe the issues facing the neighboring communities. With the calendars and the mite jars we’ll have the opportunity to reflect each day upon the blessings we’ve been given and how we can share these blessings with others.  This Lent we are coming down the mountain to focus on the mission of the Church: “to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ” by “promot[ing] justice, peace, and love” (BCP 855).

I recently had an experience of coming down the mountain. As many of you know, I just got back from about a month-long mission trip to South Sudan. While it was an incredible experience and I’m grateful to have had the opportunity, I must admit that it was a challenging trip for me. The living conditions in the village where we stayed are not good. Every day is a struggle to eke out an existence in a land still recovering from war and violence. Faced with so much poverty and suffering, I was overwhelmed. I wondered if my presence there was helpful or hurtful. Wouldn’t it have been better if I’d stayed home and donated the money I spent on flights, hotels, and food to the community so that they could get back on their feet?

But looking at their smiling faces and witnessing the joy of the community at our coming, I realized that while they do need assistance and money would be really helpful, what we brought to them was hope and this was much more powerful than just bringing money because it showed them that they were not alone, that they were not forgotten, that people halfway around the world cared about and were praying for them. And they in turn showed me that joy can be found in the midst of suffering, that you don’t have to be wealthy to be generous, and that every day you are alive is a gift. I went to Africa to try to share the love of Christ with my brothers and sisters but I found that this love had preceded me. You see, the funny thing about coming down the mountain is that God is already there. 

nilibusu...(swahili for "I kissed")

I thought that when I kissed the Blarney Stone that it would be the strangest thing I ever kissed, that nothing could top that. I was wrong. Today, I am happy? confused? to say that I have experienced a weirder kiss. I...have kissed...a giraffe. And there was tongue involved--on the giraffe's part (sorry, Daniel. I hope you'll understand).

Today we hung out with my friend Jenny Korwan, who is in the YASC (Young Adult Service Corps) here in Kenya. We went to a giraffe preserve, where we fed an 18 month old giraffe named Ed and his little 15 month old brother Ibrahim (sp?). If you put one of the pieces of food (they look like fish pellets; I tried not to think about what they were made of) in your mouth, the giraffe will stick out it's long black tongue and take the treat from you. They call it a kiss. It was quite the experience, and I have it on film to prove it! There are 9 giraffes in the preserve; 7 female and 2 male. They are called Rothschild Giraffes. Once they get to be 2 years old, they are released to the wild. One of the females is 16 years old and pregnant, so there will be a calf sometime soon. The giraffes are hunted for their skin, their tales, and their meat; this preserve is trying to rescue them. At one point there were only 120 of the giraffes in a 180,00 km radius (I think I got those numbers right). So this is an important project. If you're in the area, you should visit the African Fund for Endangered Wildlife Giraffe Centre. It's totally worth your while.

Image of a Rothschild Giraffe found here.

After the preserve we went to Rongai, where Jenny works and lives. We visited a children's home called Nyumba ya Tumaini (it's essentially an orphanage, although some of the kids have families). It was founded in 2003 (June 5 will mark their 10 year anniversary) to help take boys off of the streets of  Nairobi. Most of them have been living on the streets for years, begging, stealing, doing drugs (like pot or sniffing glue), and drinking. The boys are usually 10 or younger. Several of them told us some of their background. When they first arrive they are rehabilitated, registered with the government, given clothing, and sent to school. There are mentors made up of people from the community and people like Jenny. The boys are so lovely, so full of life and energy! They sang and danced for us and it was great to see how much fun they were having. They work really hard at their studies and several of them are first in their class! One of the boys, D, had struggled with school and never completed any of the years of primary school. But he got a tutor to help him study. After one year he tested out of 8 years of primary school to continue to secondary school! From there he worked hard, becoming first in the class. He was asked to be head boy but declined so that he could focus on his studies. He is hoping to go to university in the fall to study electrical engineering. These boys have so much potential--I hope they get to achieve their dreams! Ben, the director of the home, is amazing, and you can just see how much he cares for the kids. If you'd like to find out more about Nyumba ya Tumaini, contact Jenny at jkorwan@gmail.com. I'll be sure to post pictures when I get back to the states.

After the home we visited Jenny's home, then said goodbye. Jim and I then went to a market to get souvenirs for folks (they didn't really have any in South Sudan) before returning to the hotel. It has been quite an amazing day! 

what IS the What?

I just finished reading the second book I brought with me, called What is the What. If you want to know more about what life was like for the South Sudanese during the civil war in Sudan, then I highly recommend this book. It tells the life of one of the Lost Boys, who walked for months across what is now South Sudan to a refugee camp in Ethiopia, then again to the refugee camp in Kenya, called Kakuma, before finally making his way to the states. It is a powerful tale and extremely sad, but an important read. It has helped me to understand what the people of South Sudan have gone through in recent decades, and what life is like for those lucky (?) enough to have made it to America. If you have a weak stomach, I don't recommend reading it; it is honest and very graphic in places (I had to stop reading it until after I got back to Kenya). But I think it's important for us to know what happened, just like it's important to learn about the Holocaust. Maybe if more and more people learn about these things, then they won't be able to happen in the future. I know that this hope is naive, but I still hope. 

I found the image of the book here.

In other, trivial matters: when we got back to Kenya, it was the first time I had spent time looking at myself in a mirror in a few weeks (there was a mirror in Bor, but we only spent one night there and the power wasn't on for much of the time, so I didn't really spend much time in front of it). Other than tweezers, what I really miss having is some mascara. My friend Liz told me before I went that I should take some, because she had really regretted not bringing some. When she told me this, I brushed the suggestion aside immediately, thinking it absurd. But after having spent several weeks hot and sweaty, with dirt perpetually under my fingernails, I am regretting not having brought it. For the first time in a few weeks, we are in a climate that has some resemblance to ours (well, ours in the late spring/early summer). I am able to wear jeans and a light jacket, to wear my hair down (it was too hot before). Now that we have actual showers and huge beds and sinks and flushing toilets, there is some semblance of normalcy, and it makes me miss silly things like mascara or a blow dryer. It reminds me of a story I once heard about the women liberated from the concentration camps at the end of World War II. One of the most prized things they received was a tube of lipstick. Of course they appreciated the food and clothing, but the lipstick was absolutely treasured. They had been treated like less than humans for so long, been made to live in absolutely horrendous conditions, but now they were able to feel human, even pretty, for the first time. Now, I'm not saying my experience comes anywhere near theirs--not even close. It's just that for the first time I am able to understand the story.

created equal

Just finished reading President Obama's second inaugural address. I was moved by his words, getting goosebumps and even tearing up a bit. I know that the U.S. has its share of problems: the economy, the confusion with health care, job insecurity, gun violence, etc. But compared to here, America seems so vast, so rich, and able to achieve all of its dreams. I know that our politicians are fighting one another and seem not able to get along, but compared to the problems here, it just seems like a simple fight with an easy solution. I wish all of our politicians would come to South Sudan and experience life here: how each day is a struggle and everything is so much more complex, with fewer options available. I know that's an oversimplified view of both sides, but I think after coming here they would realize that the fights they are having are just a waste of time. What matters is working together to make the dreams a reality. It requires compromise, give and take. And we have so much in the U.S. So very, very much, and we take it all for granted. Cars, fridges, money, houses with air conditioning, education, health care (as mixed up as it is), entertainment, phones. I wish I could shake the shoulders of America, wake us up out of our self-serving reverie. I know that there are many people working tirelessly to improve the lives of others. I know that there are people in the states struggling to make ends meet, that have to decide between medicine and food. But overall, we as a country have so much and can do so much more. Because I do believe that all of us are created equal, and that we all deserve a chance to make something of ourselves. And we are called to help each other achieve those dreams. I wish I could give all of the young girls in Maar who told me their dreams (of becoming pilots, priests, teachers, and businesswomen) the chance to realize those dreams. As cliched as it might seem, I hope that even in some small way I can make a difference, and that you will join me in making this world a better place. We can achieve so much when we work together. Who's with me?

harsh realities

Yesterday was a powerful day! This past week we've been in the midst of the equivalent of a Diocesan Convention, and just about every priest in the Diocese was present (there are over 200). The morning began with worship, and I was honored by being asked to preach (it was on the schedule, so I'd had a few days to gather my thoughts in preparation). I used the passage 1 Cor. 12:12-18, 26-27 and talked about how I understood more about the Body of Christ, was more complete, because I had met my brothers and sisters from across the world. If only everyone treated each other the way they had treated me and my companions, imagine what this world would be like! My sermon was not very long, but it took about 20 min. because each sentence was translated into Dinka and Nuer, the most common tribal languages present. Before I began I was asked to step up to the podium. When I tried to refuse, they insisted. So, to prove my point, I went in front of the podium and of course no one was able to see me because it was above my head. Everyone got a kick out of that. There have been more than a few short jokes this trip, but that's par for the course :o) After the service, one person told me, "You are small, but your message is big." That's good enough for me!

In the afternoon all 6 of us Americans were invited to be part of a memorial service for two men who had been killed in a recent cattle raid. They were the father and uncle of one of the priests in the Diocese, Rev. John. It was a moving experience: each of the tribal leaders of the nearby communities were invited to speak. The community had lost all of its cattle when a mostly nomadic tribe called the Murle stole them. Exact numbers are unknown, but it could be as many as 80,000. This is the community's only form of subsistence, and they were defenseless because the government had taken away the guns of all citizens earlier this year in a disarmament program. Without the cattle, they have nothing. Some of the chiefs said that they would take their villages and leave, but others said, "Where will you go? The only thing we have is land." They were angry with the government, who did not provide them with the protection they needed. The people here already don't have the conveniences that most of us don't even think twice about: clean water, employment,  electricity, regular access to health care or food. Now, they are left with absolutely nothing except the torn clothes on their backs and their homes. What will they do? Where can they turn? The cattle will not be returned to them. It breaks my heart.

As guests of the Diocesan Bishop, we were honored guests at the service. Each person greeted us before they spoke their piece. Many hoped that we would take the story of their loss back home with us, in the hopes that someone will be moved to help, because they have nowhere else to turn.

After the leaders finished speaking, they asked Bishop Duncan (of Mississippi) to speak on behalf of the group. He prayed for those gathered and those whose lives were lost, that in the midst of the confusion and loss, they would feel God's presence. Then one of the sons, Rev. John's elder brother, spoke. He said, "My uncle was buried here. Now my father and another uncle are buried here. We can't leave; this land is our legacy." Then the District Commissioner spoke. He said he was sorry for their loss, that the raid had been publicized, and that he would do what he could for them. Then Bishop Ezekiel gave the closing prayer, where he talked about trusting in God to get through this tough time.

After the service was over (we had been there for about 3 1/2 hours at this point, but we'd missed the recounting of the lives of the deceased), we were invited to come eat in Rev. John's brother's hut. Needless to say, it was a somber ride home.

   

flexibility

From my travels, I've learned that probably one of the most important qualities you can have when traveling is flexibility. It's good to have a plan or general idea, of course, but you need to be okay when (not if) the plan changes. Here, we are on "African time," so things happen in their own good time. The worship service "begins" at 7:30am, but people don't start showing up until about 8, some even later. Meals are later. On the first night, Addy and I came back to our room after our bath, got into our pajamas, and prepared for bed. All of a sudden we heard a knock on the door; someone had come to take us to dinner--at 9pm! But you get used to it, or adapt for your own needs. I have to have breakfast before starting the day or I'll not feel well, so I just eat a granola bar to hold me over until we are served a meal. Flexibility.

Yesterday afternoon we went to visit a clinic some miles away. We all piled into a truck, including some people we picked up from the village. I asked to sit in the back. They tried to convince me to sit inside, but I insisted on sitting in the back. It was such a rush! I was reminded of my travels in Myanmar, riding through the mountains on the back of a truck. I loved feeling the wind on my face (which is a good preventative measure against car sickness, by the way). The view here is incredible: it's so flat (even flatter than in Nebraska!) and you feel like you can see forever. We saw the sun catching on the grass, turning it into golden spiderwebs. Here and there were huts and trees, and we regularly saw goats and birds. And then there were the cattle. Sometimes it seemed like the cattle stretched on for miles! At one point, on our way back, we had to stop because a line of hundreds of cattle was crossing the road. Incredible! This place is simply amazing.

Picture of South Sudanese cattle found here.