Fourth Sunday in Lent Year C

4th Sunday in Lent Year C March 31, 2019 “This parable is hard for me,” she said, “Because I strongly identify with the older brother, and that’s a real struggle for me.” One of our Wednesday morning congregation admitted this in our discussion this week, and it got me thinking about this in my own life. I, too, relate to the older brother, and Jesus’ parable of this family—the loving, forgiving, reconciling father, the prodigal, irresponsible younger son, and the dependable, faithful, resentful older son—holds up a mirror before me giving me a most unflattering reflection back. I am especially struck, in this season in encountering this parable, by the resentfulness of the older son. I have a dear friend who has been in recovery for a little over a year. And as she has walked through this process, I have noticed a profound change in her that has to do with resentments. She has been able to identify and articulate old resentments that she has carried with her for so long, directed toward others, and she continues to actively work to disentangle herself from those and to not pick up any new ones along the way. It has changed our relationship and helped me become more aware of the resentments that I carry with me like burdens and also the ones that pop up like weeds unexpectedly. The 12 step programs, or Alcoholics Anonymous specifically, say “that resentment is a condition or state of mind whereby one relives some past event, and feels the emotion from that event as if it were happening right now. Resentment is literally to feel (sentire) again (re), and it is the fuel that feeds the fires of our addictions. In fact, the original members of AA who wrote the book Alcoholics Anonymous believed ‘resentment was the number one offender, and that it destroys more alcoholics than anything else.’”i For any of us, resentment can be like when you have a sore place in your mouth, and you just can’t help but probe it every once in a while to see if it still hurts, or you happen to forget it is there and then you bite into something and it twinges. And we don’t have to be alcoholics or addicts or people in recovery to become prey to our resentments. It’s actually why Jesus tells this parable. Luke starts out the chapter by saying, “All the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, "This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them." After that opening, Jesus tells two other parables that are cut out of our lectionary for today: the parable of the lost sheep and the parable of the lost coin. Then he tells the parable that we have come to call of the prodigal son, but could also be called the parable of the lost son. Jesus is telling these parables because the religious insiders are resentful of the time he is spending with those they designate as sinners. And we get that, don’t we? We want to understand the economy of salvation. We want to know for sure how much must we do or give to dwell within God’s grace. We want to be able to keep tally both for ourselves and for others; to know who is in and who is out. Over and over again, I am reminded by the Holy Spirit that God’s grace cannot and will not be earned. God’s grace can only be asked for or invited, and it can only be received or not received. The grace of God is not calculated, transactional, and scarce. The grace of God is mysterious, illogical, and abundant. In a blog post titled Utterly Humbled by Mystery, the Franciscan priest Richard Rohr writes, “When I was young, I couldn’t tolerate such ambiguity. My education had trained me to have a lust for answers and explanations. Now, at age 63, it’s all quite different. I no longer believe this is a quid pro quo universe — I’ve counseled too many prisoners, worked with too many failed marriages, faced my own dilemmas too many times and been loved gratuitously after too many failures.” He continues, “Whenever I think there’s a perfect pattern, further reading and study reveal an exception. Whenever I want to say “only” or “always,” someone or something proves me wrong. My scientist friends have come up with things like “principles of uncertainty” and dark holes. They’re willing to live inside imagined hypotheses and theories. But many religious folks insist on answers that are always true. We love closure, resolution and, clarity, while thinking that we are people of “faith”! How strange that the very word “faith” has come to mean its exact opposite.”ii For Rohr, the antidote to resentment is two part. First, we must have a generous humility that comes out of a place that is attentive to one’s own shortcomings and the seeking to make amends for harm done out of our failures. And second, we must have a radical sense of gratitude. In his book Breathing Under Water, he writes, “So it is important that you ask, seek, and knock to keep yourself in right relationship with Life Itself. Life is a gift, totally given to you without cost, every day of it, and every part of it. A daily and chosen “attitude of gratitude” will keep your hands open to expect that life, allow that life, and receive life at ever-deeper levels of satisfaction—but never to think you deserve it. Those who live with such open and humble hands receive life’s “gifts, full measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over into their lap” (Luke 6: 38). In my experience, if you are not radically grateful every day, resentment always takes over. For some reason, to ask “for your daily bread” is to know that it is being given. To not ask is to take your own efforts, needs, and goals—and yourself—far too seriously. Consider if that is not true in your own life.”iii Your invitation for this week is to ask God to help you and to examine one resentment in your life that you continue to hold onto. Then name before God three things for which you are grateful, and try to practice this “attitude of gratitude” by naming three things for which you are grateful every single day. If it is possible, and your gratitude extends to someone else, then share that with them. In conclusion, I want to share with you a blessing from John O’Donohue titled For Someone Who Did You Wrong. The heart of this blessing, I think, is to show us how gratitude can come even from hurt. For Someone Who Did You Wrong Though its way is to strike In a dumb rhythm, Stroke upon stroke, As though the heart Were an anvil, The hurt you sent Had a mind of its own. Something in you knew Exactly how to shape it, To hit the target Slipping into the heart Through some wound-window Left open since childhood. While it struck outside, It burrowed inside, Made tunnels through Every ground of confidence. For days, it would lie still Until a thought would start it. Meanwhile, you forgot, Went on with things And never even knew How that perfect Shape of hurt Still continued to work. Now a new kindness Seems to have entered time And I can see how that hurt Has schooled my heart In a compassion I would Otherwise have never learned. Somehow now I have begun to glimpse The unexpected fruit Your dark gift had planted And I thank you For your unknown work. iv i. https://jasonwahler.com/breaking-down-step-four-of-aa-alcoholics-anonymous/ ii. https://onbeing.org/blog/richard-rohr-utterly-humbled-by-mystery/ iii. Rohr, Richard. Breathing Under Water: Spirituality and the Twelve Steps. Franciscan Media: 2011. P 65 iv. O’Donohue. John. To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings. Doubleday: New York, 2008. Pp172-173