A distant land

When he had spent it all, that country experienced a severe famine, and now he began to feel the pinch so he hired himself out to one of the local inhabitants who put him on his farm to feed the pigs.

"Prodigal son among the swine" by Albrecht Durer

            One of the readers of this blog brought me up short with a question about the farmer who hired Younger Brother.  I have to confess that when I was listing the dramatis personae that individual never crossed my mind.  But having been raised to consciousness, of course we must explore this individual as well.  The secondary problem I am now having is to question whether there are other characters that I have ignored, even after reading this parable daily since late November.

            We know from the story that Younger Brother had received his inheritance and migrated to a distant land.  To go to a “foreign” land was to leave behind all of the comfort of language, custom, religion, familiarity and community.  For Jews, anything foreign was also defiling, making one unable to perform the rituals necessary to righteousness.  To touch a dead body, for instance, rendered one unclean, requiring purifications described in the laws and regulations of Leviticus.  The story of the Good Samaritan is poignant because we chastise both the priest and the Levite who were required to be prepared to perform duties consonant with their office, and yet they passed by on the opposite side of the road, as far away as possible.  And if they touched the one “left for dead” who might in fact be dead they would be ineligible to perform these duties.  The scandal of that parable is that it is the foreigner, the Samaritan, the one least likely to assist who becomes the rescuer, the life saver for the one who had fallen in among thieves and had been beaten.  Even to be in the company of foreigners could render one unclean, which is why the high priest and leaders of the Temple refuse to go into Pilate’s fortress for Jesus’ trial.  It was, after all, the Day of Preparation for Passover, and being in the presence of foreigners, Romans, would make them ineligible to perform the ritual tasks of their offices.

            We do not know how long Younger Brother was in this foreign territory; the parable is mute on that point.  Was he there long enough to learn a new language?  Did they speak Koine Greek as did most of the Judeans and Galileans, or was it some other language and culture that would have required significant time for Younger Brother to become comfortable in that place?  It is obvious that the locals were quite willing to take this young man for all he was worth and then discard him when he was destitute.  I learned a song in the late 1950’s with a line that repeats, “Nobody knows you when you’re down and out.”  And that is exactly the situation for Younger Brother.

            But who is this farmer that hires Younger Brother, and why does he hire an alien instead of one of his own countrymen?  Perhaps Younger Brother has lost his visa (and I do not mean a credit card) when he has no more money and therefore is an illegal alien.  Perhaps none of the locals will do such demeaning work, so the farmer has to hire illegal aliens.  Or it might just be that if he hired his countrymen he would have to pay them a living wage, and he can hire this wastrel for almost nothing, causing him to starve.  Does the farmer grumble because most of his illegal farm hands are living in a small apartment designed for an individual or a family of 2 or 3?  Are his neighbors angry that they have to put up with all these “illegals” living in their town who are sending most of their meager wages back to their families where ever home is and taking all the jobs away from the homeboys?  I wonder if there is the equivalent of INS (Immigration and Naturalization Service) in that country to deport those who are in-country illegally.  Younger Brother cannot even apply for food stamps because he does not have the proper credentials to get a hand-out.  Or is this farmer truly attempting to do a good deed by hiring the young man, thinking it will keep him from starving to death? 

            I know I am treading on thin ice for some readers, but if we are going to look at the parable and its cast of characters, we have to explore each thoroughly.  Granted, Jesus does not give us any detail about this man except for the fact that he is a pig farmer.  That alone was anathema for Jews because of the prohibition concerning swine, which makes the tasks for Younger Brother so horrific.  I can almost hear the crowd around Jesus gasp when it is revealed that the young man has to slop the hogs.  Our current American distaste for Latino immigrants may seem new, but one only need read history to discover that Eastern Europeans, Irish, Asians, and many, many others have received a similar welcome by those who were themselves immigrants some generations before to the shores of the land which says, “Send me your cold, your hungry, your tired…”  Unfortunately, xenophobia is a part of the human sinful condition that transcends time and place; it is not unique to the US, nor to the 21^st century.  Thus, it is a simple translation to read back into the story, in the person of the pig farmer from a 21^st century perspective.

            Much is made in the Hebrew Scriptures about caring for the “sojourner”, the resident alien.  Sojourners are to be cared for to the same degree as members of the community; they are to be fed and clothed and invited into the lives of the community.  How do we live out our calling as respects aliens?  Are we willing to make a place at our spiritual table, if not our house, for those who are strangers in a strange land?  From the Old Testament, we discover that the command grows out of the realization that we were once strangers in a foreign land ourselves (Egypt), so we should know the lost-ness, the loneliness of being in a distant country.  Can we welcome “home” everyone?  Or is our welcome conditional?  How does Jesus receive us? 

So he told them this parable . . .

Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him.  And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.  So he told them this parable… (Luke 15:1-3)

            Sometimes when we read a passage of Scripture, we look at those few verses alone, forgetting that the verses on which we are focusing are set within the midst of a larger context.  We have been looking at the parable of the Man Who had Two Sons as a totality, and it can truly stand alone.  However, it is important to understand why Jesus told this parable, as well as the two parables immediately preceding it: the story of the lost sheep and the story of the lost coin.

            As we see in verses 1-2, all sorts of unsavory folk were gathering around Jesus to listen to him, to learn from him, or perhaps simply to be in the presence of a truly holy person.  They were not welcome at the Temple in Jerusalem and likely not at their local synagogues as well.  They were beyond the circle of polite society and shunned by those who would keep the faith pure from such as these.  They were the outcast of their day.  Now tax collectors and sinners were one step above the true “untouchables”—those who were lepers—but they were not welcome in worship or invited to the homes of righteous folk.

            Jesus welcomes all comers.  Not only are tax collectors and sinners welcome, but he also greets and entertains Pharisees--even dining in their homes-- scribes, Sadducees, and at least one member of the Sanhedrin, Nicodemus.  All sorts and conditions of people have an equal opportunity to be taught, fed, and led by this itinerant preacher.

 As Luke begins this section we discover that the grumbling of the scribes and Pharisees had become a distraction.  Rather than ignoring the disruption, Jesus faces it head-on.  He tells first the parable of the shepherd who loses a sheep.  However, rather than begin his story as we might expect, he puts his hearers on notice that he is speaking to them, “Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them…”  He concludes his story of the lost lamb, “And when he comes home he calls together his friends and neighbors saying to them ‘Rejoice with me for I have found my sheep that was lost.’”

He immediately tells another story and again begins it by challenging those in the crowd, “What woman having ten silver coins…” and concludes it by saying, “…she calls together her friends and neighbors saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’”  He has laid the ground-work by setting up a lost-found-rejoice pattern.

            Finally in this chapter he moves to a deeply demanding parable, our story of the Man With two Sons.  At the end of each act we are called to rejoice.  The first act concludes with the great feast, complete with music and dancing at least for the household, but possibly including friends and neighbors as well.  All is well, and I can hear “amen” from the crowd.  Remember, however, that Jesus does not begin this parable by saying, “Which one of you, having a son who wishes you were dead, goes off into a foreign land and squanders his portion of the wealth…”  He simply begins, “There was a man who had two sons.”  The clincher comes in act two, as we hear about Older Brother and his response to the rejoicing at Younger Brother’s return.  Jesus drives home the point that the dour, self-righteous son refuses, at least at first, to enter into the rejoicing.  He figuratively points his finger toward those in the crowd who would refuse others because the outsiders were not as pure as themselves.  As with many of Jesus’ parables, The Man with Two Sons ends without a conclusion to Older Brother’s dilemma; will he “come home” or will he exile himself to a lifetime of bitterness at the generosity of God.  For Older Brother, generosity to Younger Brother diminishes whatever Father can give him.  Love and material wealth are portioned out in a finite way, reducing that which is available to the elder sibling. 

            As we move closer to the celebration of God’s ultimate act of generosity in the Nativity of God’s Son, help me to remember that I am heir to ALL of God’s Kingdom.  My share is not reduced if others are welcomed to join in on the feast.  In fact, my portion contains more than I can ask for or even imagine, because it is in community with you and those who accept God’s invitation that I discover the totality of God’s riches.  Young and old, rich and poor, tax collector and sinner, all are invited to the banquet.  Rejoice brothers and sisters, and welcome everyone God invites.

I Remember Mama

               There is a character in the parable that is not really a part of the cast of characters: the mother figure.  Nowhere in the telling of the two act tale does Jesus introduce the wife of Father or the sons’ mother.  That certainly is not surprising, given the status of women in first century Palestine.  Jesus so often violates the customs of the times, however, that a 21^st century hearer might just expect to find a maternal touch in this story.

               Henri Nouwen, in studying the famous Rembrandt painting “The Return of the Prodigal Son” thinks he has discovered the mother-figure in the deeps shadows of the painting.  She is almost entirely lost, without any of the light which illuminates Father and Younger Brother, the face of Older Brother, or even the reflected light on the seated figure who may be a servant.  She is almost invisible; I had to spend some time looking at a copy of the painting for some time before I even found the person Nouwen describes.

               The maternal aspect is also found within the father figure.  Both Father Nouwen and Brandon Scott in his work Hear Then the Parable speak of the actions of Father as being more mother-like than paternalistic.  It is interesting that Scott entitles the chapter in which the parable of the Man with Two Sons is discussed as “I Remember Mama.” He connects the loss of human food, the need to eat hog slop to survive, the abundance of the hired hands’ meals, and the feast following the wastrel’s return with the nourishing role of mother-hood.

 “A subterranean movement in the story has associated nourishment with a maternal theme.  He goes on, “The father combines in himself the maternal and paternal roles.  As a father he is a failure, but as a mother he is a success.  It is his forgiving, nourishing character that has entranced generations of hearers and readers.”  (p. 122)

               Not all of us had perfect mothers; in fact, there are very few mothers who could live up to that measure.  The June Cleaver image from Leave it to Beaver fame of the 1950’s is a myth, and was even when I was growing up.  Psychiatrists and psychologists, beginning with Freud, have traced the ills of individuals—and with the world--with the misdeeds of mothers.  This latter-day science could rephrase a saying quoted in the Hebrew Scriptures as “The sins of the mothers are visited upon the children to the fourth generation.” 

The  Newborn by George de la Tour

If we are to take Genesis 1:27 as a true statement, “So God created humankind is his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them…,” and if Father in the parable represents God, why should we be surprised to find both paternal and maternal features represented?  Even in our “enlightened” culture, we are still just a bit uncomfortable with feminine attributes attached to God.  For some, to speak of God as “She” or even feminine is both heresy and anathema.  And yet saints of the Church, including Julian of Norwich, and Jesus himself, have done just that, Julian speaking of God our Mother and Jesus referring to God as a hen gathering her chicks.

               I encourage every reader, male and female, to read him or herself into the role of Mother in the parable.  Read it again and make yourself the unnamed, invisible mother.  What is it like to know that your younger son is about to embark on a journey away from family, community, hearth and home?  To whom do you turn in the loneliness of the months and years of absence from this child?  How do you respond when Younger Brother suddenly returns?  And what do you do when Older Brother refuses to “come home?”  I pray that you might discover some new insight into the story out of the experience of your own life, from the relationship with your mother, however that was lived.  Can God’s love be the exact healing you need to redeem any shortcomings, yours or hers?

               As we prepare for Advent IV—Annunciation Sunday—remember we are celebrating the Mother of God, in Greek Theotokos, and her “Yes” to God’s call upon her life.  How does Mary inform you of God’s love, nurture, and care for you?  Does this young maid fit at all into the parable?  More questions than answers, but isn’t that Jesus’ way?

               

Hired hands

               Early on in this study of the parable of the Man Who Had Two Sons, I suggested reading the parable and inserting yourself into the story as one of the characters, the one with whom you are most able to relate or identify.  Since then I have intimated that it might be good to move into other characters of the dramatis personae.  Today I want to explore the role of the hired hands, sometimes called servants, and slaves, and see if I can discover something about myself and this tale of woe and redemption.

            Hired hands in New Testament days were not so different from today.  They work for a wage, which we might infer from other parables was paid in those days to some day laborers each day.  The workers in Father’s household may either be of the day laborer variety or of the permanent staff sort.  When Younger Brother comes to his senses while he is slopping the hogs, he speaks of the hired hands who dine sumptuously, “How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare….”  It may be that Father is paying his servants more than the usual going rate, indicating a generosity of spirit.  Of course, perhaps from the starvation situation of the pig sty, even a day’s wage would seem more than abundant.  

 

A linguistic difficulty is that there also appear to be slaves in the household.  Both the Father and Older Brother call slaves (douloi) to do their bidding.  Father orders a slave to bring a robe, a ring, and sandals to dress Younger Brother; Older Brother demands from a slave an account of the music and dancing.  The Greek is quite explicit in these two cases that these are slaves and not hired hands.  Nouwen’s translation of the parable ( The Return of the Prodigal Son, pages 1-2) calls them servants, as do some other versions, perhaps to soften the relationship of the family with their workers.

 

            Whether day laborers, servants or even slaves, I believe Jesus is offering us a picture of workers that are well cared for by the household.  There is nothing intrinsic in the story, save the comment of Younger Son in the piggery,  that indicates a close relationship between any of the family and any of the servants.  From that one comment, however, I infer that he might have had conversations with some of the workers.  It may well be that as he was growing up, he got to know hired hands and played with their children.  It is even likely that the slaves and servants were involved in the rearing of the boys and that Younger Brother had some affinity with them as well.

            I have to admit a bias:  I am guessing that Older Brother, although raised by servants and slaves, always saw himself as “above” the hired hands and slaves, and even their children, as he was to be the one to inherit the majority of the estate, including servants and slaves.  Could it be possible that part of Younger Brother’s departure was to get away from the insufferable arrogance of his elder sibling?  Who knows?

            It is easy to read an excitement in the slave’s relating the story of the return of the profligate son to Older Brother.  The excitement might simply be the joy at having a feast in which all might have a portion, but I read a deep relief that the lost child has returned, perhaps a friendship to be rekindled even with the slaves/servants.

            I am aware that I am eisegeting (eisegesis: reading into the text what I want to read, as opposed to exegesis which is reading out of the text what is intrinsically there) but I believe that the parable from Jesus offers me the opportunity to see myself in His words.

            The hired hands-servants-slaves of this household are a part of the community.  If the parable is about the Kingdom, if this entire chapter is about lost and found, if for Jesus absolutely everyone is invited into the Kingdom, does this not also include the least of the household?  I can see the joy of the hired hands and the slaves as a relief, not just for the grieving Father, but for themselves as well.  They have lost a friend, and now he has returned.  Yes, they will dine well, even if it is only the leftovers from the feast they have slaved to prepare.  They too are partakers in the revelry, the feasting, the elation that one who was lost is found, one who was as dead that is now alive.

            I encourage you to make the remainder of Advent an opportunity to engage with those who serve us without much thanks: store clerks, public servants, even the Salvation Army bell ringers, some of whom are homeless and earning minimum wage by working at what may seem like a menial task.  Thank those folk for being present in your life.  Remember the Baptismal Covenant question, “Will you seek and serve Christ in ALL persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?” (emphasis added).  Help me find ways to live that promise daily.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

"Joy and resentment cannot coexist."

               This week I have been re-reading Brandon Scott’s commentary on the Parable of The Man with Two Sons in his book Hear Then the Parable.  I have made some remarkable discoveries and gained some insight which, it seems, has eluded me on the other occasions of study.  Scott divides the parable as a play in two acts, the first act being the story of Younger Brother and act two being Older Brother’s story.  As a good scholar, Scott relates the research and conclusions of other prominent scholars regarding this passage and his agreement and disagreement with his peers.  But also as a good scholar he gives us his own insights and conclusions based on his research, which is enormous.

               Dr. Scott points out the biblical theme of the favoring of the younger/youngest brother, which surely must have been in the mind of Jesus’ original hearers.  Isaac’s wife Rebecca knew of the fraternal conflict while her twin sons Esau and Jacob were still in utero.  The conflict plays out in Esau selling his heritage for a portion of soup, and again in Jacob’s theft of the elder son blessing by old, blind Isaac.  Even the least educated Jew of the first century knew by heart, embedded in their psyche, that the Israelites were God’s chosen people.  But the memory of Benjamin, Jacob’s youngest son, and the one on whom the old man dotes, was also a beautifully recalled tale of paternal care.  Remember it was not Reuben, the oldest son of Leah and Jacob, who was given the coat of many colors but Joseph, the first son of Rachel, son number 11.  An older son of the younger wife, to be sure, but far from the eldest of Jacob.  (For more on the sons of Jacob read Genesis Chapters 29 and 30).

               In act one of the parable it is obvious that Father loves his younger child with a great love.  When Younger Brother asks for his inheritance now, Father grants the request without regard to loss of prestige or honor in his household or community.  We can imagine that Father pines for the loss of this son throughout the time of his absence.  Is he dead or alive?  Is he well or sickly?  What has become of this beloved child?  One may infer that every day Father looks for the return of Younger Brother, and every day his disappointment grows.  Finally one day, looking out, hoping to see his son, Father catches a glimpse of Younger Brother in the distance and runs to him and falls on him, embracing him as he has wished to do for ever so long.  The resulting restoration of Younger Brother to a place of honor, complete with robes, a ring, sandals, and a feast is heart-warming and, for Jesus’ hearers, reminiscent of God’s love for the Chosen People, and the story is strikingly similar to the various rejections by Israel of God’s love and restoration by God to grace.

 Act two is a glaring contrast with the story of Younger Brother.  Older Brother, who has stayed home, tended the estate, been a loyal son in all things, has apparently grown resentful during the intervening years of Younger Brother’s absence.  What we are not told is whether or not the resentment had begun in youth.  Did Father show partiality outwardly throughout the growing years of his two sons?  Maybe.  Was Older Brother always jealous of the affection shown to his sibling?  Perhaps.  Was Older Brother ever able to enter into a truly joyous celebration if the party wasn’t for his calculated benefit?  Jesus does not fill in the details; the master story-teller allows us to “fill in the blanks”.  I do have a sense here that as Older Brother returns home (note the irony that both brothers come home) and discovers a party for Younger Brother’s homecoming he will once again be left out.  As Father Nouwen says, “Joy and resentment cannot coexist. The music and dancing, instead of inviting to joy, become a cause for even greater withdrawal.” (The return of the Prodigal Son, p.73)

               I intentionally chose these books for this Advent study, as the parable of the Man with Two Sons has much to tell us about ourselves and our relationship with our brothers and sisters in Christ.  We are preparing for the coming of Christ: in the celebration of His Incarnation, in His coming into our hearts, and in His coming in glory to bring in the reign of God.  I believe that the way we receive others will be reflected in how we receive God’s presence. In Jesus’ prayer for His disciples—best known as the Lord’s Prayer—we are taught to pray, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.”  Some years ago, I began praying that phrase, “Forgive me only as much as I am willing to forgive others.”  That, friends, is a very sharp two-edged sword.

               As we await the decisions of the court system, let us prepare to receive both Jesus and our brothers and sisters as we have been welcomed.  Pray with me, friends, that the hearts of everyone will be softened, and that we might see and serve the Christ in everyone.

Can you join the party?

All these years I have slaved for you and never once disobeyed any orders of yours…

               In his book The Prodigal God, Timothy Keller describes the situation of Younger Brother in the category of “lost-ness.”  Anyone reading the parable can come to the obvious conclusion that the wastrel son has lost his way.  We see hints of that in the request to receive his share of the inheritance long before the appropriate time, that is, at the death of his father.  The moment the son leaves home for a “foreign land,” a place of debauchery—gambling, prostitution, excessive drinking and drugs, and God only knows what else—it is easy for the hearer/reader to gasp either audibly or spiritually, knowing what is coming.  Parents carry in their hearts a fear that our children will leave in the same way Younger Brother leaves, even if we don’t give them a bag of money.  Even the departure that will help a teenager develop skills and knowledge in college carries incredible risks.  Perhaps for the first time in a young person’s life, freedom to behave in any way that might momentarily please becomes an option.  But is this true freedom or slavery of another kind?  As he loses everything he owns and is forced by hunger to work in the pig sty, we can feel the abject aloneness and lostness of Younger Brother in our hearts and souls.

               Years ago, after preaching a sermon on freedom, the thesis being that freedom is only possible with clear boundaries, a parishioner told me a story about a childhood friend.

"I had a friend whose father had a bicycle.  This was decades ago, before the advent of coaster brakes.  The only way to slow or stop this bicycle was either to back-pedal or to skid sideways—hockey-stop like.  My friend’s father told him to stay off the bike without supervision, as he could easily get hurt.  My friend had learned to ride some years earlier under his father’s watchful eye, but he had never ridden alone.  

"One day when he was about 13 my friend decided to ride the bike down a long hill near their home; he wanted to feel the freedom of going fast and doing so by himself.  As he started down the hill he began to pick up speed and thought, ‘I’m free!’  As he continued to move faster and faster, he remembered there was a crossroad at the bottom of the hill and he would have to crash to stop, at which point he said to himself, ‘I’m not free, I’m loose.”

               Whether we ourselves have ever taken the path of “loose-ness” or simply watched while others wandered off, we can easily understand lost-ness for such as Younger Brother.  But understanding lost-ness for Older Brother is somewhat more complex.  The first son never leaves home, never wastes anything that belongs to his father or family, never disobeys in any way, always acts “appropriately,” whatever that may mean.  It is not until the wastrel returns and is feted with robes, a ring, and a feast of the fatted calf that Older Brother’s lostness becomes evident.  Keller says, “As we said, the younger brother knew he was alienated from the father, but the elder brother did not.  That’s why elder-brother lostness is so dangerous. Elder brothers don’t go to God and beg for healing from their condition.  They see nothing wrong with their condition, and that can be fatal.” (p. 66)

               The anger and resentment that have been building in the heart of Older Brother can be a toxic brew.  Has he been obedient out of love or merely from a sense of fear?  Is his feeling of entrapment in slavery a jealousy of the younger sibling who perhaps left home because of the rigidity of his elder brother? Can he have been so angry all these years and kept his resentment a secret?  On the day of the return of Younger Brother, his anger, resentment, and even perhaps a tinge of hatred explode as he stands apart from the festival.  There is no joy in his heart for the return of his “dead” brother.  We do not know how he might have reacted if when the wastrel returned the father had simply put Younger Brother to work hoeing weeds.  But this?  A party—a veritable feast?  Never!

               Where is your heart when you begin to think about and pray for reunion with someone who has hurt you deeply, who has wandered off from a close friendship or family relationship?  How can I welcome them home when they haven’t paid enough penance or begged me to forgive them as much as I think they should?  Have I become a slave to anger and resentment?

               Take time today to re-read the parable, slowly, aloud, and prayerfully.  Ask God to take away the “older-brother-ness” from your heart.  Rejoice with the Father that one who was lost is found, one who was dead is come home. Then join the party!

The Older Brother

He was angry then and refused to go in…

               As much as I have wanted to ignore Older Brother and somehow pretend that he doesn’t exist, I am drawn to reflect on this sibling.  It is much easier for me to identify myself with Younger Brother than the other son, as I am more sympathetic toward one who has some realization of his lostness and attempts to return home.  Older Brother relies totally on himself, his own personal sense of righteousness—self-righteousness, in fact—to demand his standing.  He has earned his place in the family, in the community, and in the world, and this wastrel has squandered what he was given.  There is no sense of thankfulness, no gratitude in his heart, no openness to anyone who is not equal to him.  As the writers of the Gospels describe the Pharisees as they relate Jesus’ life, I see a reflection of Older Brother, or maybe more precisely I see the Pharisees reflected in Older Brother in the parable.

               My deep issue is that I do not want to see myself in any way as the first son of the Father.  He is compassion-less, stern, rigid, and it seems, devoted to his father out of a sense of self-serving or “I will do this because I can get something for myself.”  His superiority over all the others in the story drips with an iciness that is bone-chilling, from his servants, to his brother, to his father.  He has every right to make demands because he has been faithful.

To put a not-so-subtle point on it, I see myself being tempted to relate to those who have left The Episcopal Church precisely as Older Brother relates to Younger Brother’s return.  We may be on the verge of receiving a judicial decision in our favor regarding the property that has been taken from us.  With that return, there is the likelihood of individuals who were less than kind to those of us who remained a part of TEC being again a part of our communities.  For well over 18 months, we as a diocese have been talking and praying and planning for the future, using such terms as reconciliation and reunion.  And yet, in my heart of hearts, do I really want to welcome with the kiss of peace those who snubbed us—me?  Or would I rather stand outside with arms crossed in defiance and say, “All these years I have slaved for you and never once disobeyed any orders of yours…”  with the implication that I deserve to say who is welcome and who is not?  This will be especially poignant for me personally should there be clergy who took their share of the inheritance and left for a far country.  Will we—will I—be willing and able to receive them as brothers, or again will we rail against them?

               I again encourage you to re-read this parable, taking for yourself the position of Older Brother, trying on this role as a cast member playing that part.  Reflect on how you have received Younger Brother in the past, and how the Holy Spirit is calling you to receive these brothers and sisters in Christ who may have hurt you deeply.  This is Gospel work that every one of us in the Episcopal Diocese of Fort Worth must enter into now, before the day comes when we cast ourselves as the one who refuses to welcome anyone.  If you want more Gospel imperative, read Matthew 25:31-46.  Pray with me this Advent to heal the divisions in our hearts that we might welcome the Christ in absolutely everyone.