Fourth
Sunday of Lent, Year C
The Rev. Vicki K. Hesse,
Director of the Whitaker Institute,
Episcopal Diocese of Michigan
St. Matthews and St. Joseph’s, Detroit, MI
March 31, 2019
Good morning. My name is The Rev. Vicki Hesse.
I serve the Diocese as
the Director of the Whitaker Institute.
The Whitaker Institute
is the educational arm of the Diocese.
Ask: Who here has taken a class from the Whitaker
Institute?
Our overall
purpose is (slowly)
to form disciples to carry on the ministry of Jesus Christ.
(that’s a
big mission, but we have a big God!)
We do this
through about a dozen Dio-wide programs for
members of
our faith community as lifelong formation.
Three
programs you may know include:
Safe Church
courses (now being revised),
“Academy
for Vocational Leadership,”
a local
school for ordained ministry and
“Exploring
Your Spiritual Journey,” aka EYSJ,
for anyone
(lay or called to ordination) to learn
how God is
calling them.
These are
only three of several programs.
Perhaps
there will be time at coffee hour
to learn
more about learning and working together
for mutual
transformation.
So thank you, St.
Matthews/St. Joseph’s,
for your invitation to be here today.
Now we gather our minds
and hearts and breathe into this space
as we reflect on our
gospel message today.
O Lord, take my lips and speak through them;
take our minds and think through them;
take our hearts
and set them on fire with love for you. Amen.
It was years ago…
I did not know that I was lost. I did
not know that I was lost.
Not until I hit bottom
through a complicated season in my life –
at the confluence of
depression, grief, relationship transition and
employment layoff.
I must say,
sitting in that place in my life
seemed to be a pigsty.
This was truly a deep low.
It was then, I knew I was lost.
Every time I hear today’s familiar story,
the parable of the prodigal son,
I relate closely with the son.
The son, who rejected his father,
partied away his inheritance,
lost everything and hit bottom.
When the son woke up to the pigs,
Then, he realized he was lost.
Then, he knew he needed restoration and
reconciliation.
I relate to relief of the son who is welcomed,
despite what he did, for just who he was.
The story, of course, begins by noting that
the people who crowd around Jesus
were tax collectors and “sinners.”
This bothered the religious authorities, who dis’d Jesus’
-
He
was not a legitimate teacher and
-
Couldn’t
possibly be respected
-
If
he hung out with “those people” –
-
The
ones who had sinned.
And that bothered Jesus – because
he knew about their hardened hearts.
To soften their hearts, Jesus tells 3 parables
(the lost sheep, the lost coin, the lost son),
to explain that the God of whom he speaks is
a God of compassion, who joyously welcomes
saints *and* sinners into God’s
house.
In your hands, this picture is of Rembrandt’s
seventeenth-century painting of the parable.
This artwork provides rich texture to the story.
The Roman Catholic
priest, professor, and writer and
Henri Nouwen[1]
wrote about this painting
during a particular struggle in his own life.
For six years, Nouwen wrestled with God
about his journey
of being lost and found.
This painting guided his
meaning making of the experience, from the perspective of
the son, the brother and the father.
As we gaze on the image, perhaps we, too,
can see ourselves
in three ways reflected in this profound painting.
First the painting draws our eyes
toward the son
at the moment of The Return.
But from what has the son returned?
In one short sentence, the gospel tell us
that the son had asked from
his father
his share of the inheritance
even
before the father had died.
Let’s not gloss over what that meant –
That was hurtful, offensive, and
“tantamount to wishing his father was dead.”[2]
Imagining the son’s pain, Rembrandt portrays
the way the son’s deep wounds meet the
depth of the compassion and
conviction the father expresses;
the depth of a father’s love shown in the embrace.
Rembrandt’s portrayal wonderfully captures
the extent of the son’s poverty.
His shaven head, as a prisoner.
His ragged clothes, barely covering his body.
His torn shoes so worn,
exposing feet of suffering and misery.
The only shred of dignity is his sword –
the sword of truth that linked him to the father
during his Away –
and gave him permission to return.
Reflect for a moment, in what ways have you:
·
Ever
felt lost?
·
Had
no choice but to return home and ask for forgiveness
·
Felt
completely and totally loved by God?
See, God wants to
restore us
to our full dignity
so God plants this sword of truth
in our souls at our birth,
at our baptism, or even
before we are born,
as we are knitted together in the womb.
Second, the painting draws our eyes
toward the tall, stern elder
standing on the right side of the painting.
The brother and his father
have a similar look:
both bearded, wearing large red cloaks, light their
faces.
But what differences!
the brother’s facial expression
reflects his resentment
for having lived his dutiful and obedient life
without fanfare.
Although light reflects the joy of the house,
the elder son cannot accept it.
By his erect stance,
we see how lost he is.
Reflect for a moment, in what ways have you:
·
Always
been the responsible one in your family?
·
Worked
hard only to have one who didn’t work receive credit?
·
Wished
God would extend vengeance instead of mercy?
How can the elder son also be found?
Only by God
who does not force love,
but goes out to the elder son.
“You are with me always.”
We, too, have the choice
to stay in the darkness or to step into the light
and with trust and gratitude,
accept God’s gift of grace.
Without trust, we cannot be found.
Without gratitude, we cannot walk in light.
Third,
the painting draws our eyes
toward the father,
whom Rembrandt captured physically:
half-blind, mustached & bearded,
dressed in gold-embroidered deep red cloak,
a cloak spread out like wings,
with large hands on the shoulders of the son.
And, whom Rembrandt captured spiritually:
With infinite compassion,
unconditional love and
everlasting forgiveness.
Reflect for a moment, in what ways have you:
·
Trusted
someone only to be betrayed?
·
Extended
forgiveness?
·
Shared
extravagant hospitality with the “other”?
At once, human and divine natures fuse.
At once, the wholeness of the father
represents the God that I want to believe in:
one who is present and tactile,
one who stretches out arms of blessing,
one who always waits and does not push,
one who keeps approaching us,
offering strong love and belonging.
Look closely at the hands of the father,
they are markedly different. [Nouwen writes [3]
]
“The father’s left hand is strong and muscular,
fingers spread out,
covering a large part of the son’s shoulder and back.
The hand not only touches, it also it holds.
The right hand is refined, soft, and tender.
The fingers are close to each other and elegant.
This hand caresses, strokes, and offers consolation.
This is a mother’s hand.
Rembrandt invites us,
through these hands
to
see God as both Father and Mother,
one
who is strong and encouraging
as
well as soft and caring.
He confirms and she consoles.”
In this image, we are challenged:
Are we not called to be this father to ourselves,
our neighbors and our creation?
Are we not called to accept,
to welcome,
and to love others
with trust and gratitude
for the differences they bring into our lives?
I did not know that I was lost,
but in my lostness, God found me.
In my elder brother resentment and bitter heart,
God softened me.
In the image of the father,
I am confronted as a mature person in faith and wisdom,
to be that person, too.
It is a spiritual discipline
to choose life and choose joy,
not death and cynicism.
In the image of the father,
God calls us
“To be not just the one who is forgiven, but to
forgive.
Not just the one who is welcomed home,
but the one who welcomes home;
not just the one who receives compassion,
but the one who offers it as well.”[4]
Rembrandt’s painting offers
textures, colors, hues,
and a message beneath the message –
all this invites us to see ourselves.
Are you lost?
Because today’s good news,
captured by Rembrandt,
unpacked by Nouwen,
is that God’s love is greater than we can ever know.
Our compassionate God
welcomes us home,
blesses us with strong and caressing hands,
comes out and calls us
to share in love
and invites us, too,
to welcome, bless and love
just as God first loved us.
Welcome home.
