Forgiveness and Reconciliation

Rev. Tara Barbara

The Community Church of Sebastopol

March 21, 2004    The Fourth Sunday of Lent

 

Luke 15: 1-3; 11b-32

The prodigal son, he’d been away awhile… in my childhood memories, John Denver supplies the musical soundtrack.  The prodigal son.  The extravagant son.  Really there are two people in the story who are extravagant.  The son, of course, and his father.  The father’s extravagant love and forgiveness makes this a story worth telling and re-telling.  I’m sure everyone here knows a story of two people, brothers, maybe, or sisters, or one of each, we all know a story about a good one and a bad one.  I’m not going to ask you which one you are – or have been.  This story is powerful because it rings true, and we yearn for a taste of the extravagant forgiveness and reconciliation we glimpse in it. 

Forgiveness is a tricky thing.  We’ve inherited a bunch of baggage to carry around with that word, and then have gone even a step further, and tied that baggage to Christianity and faith.  Stories from the Bible like the one about turning the other cheek when someone strikes you have been misused, and misunderstood.  That is not a story about forgiveness.  The stories about turning the other cheek or walking the extra mile are justice stories, not stories about forgiveness.  Let me be very clear.  I do not believe in a God or a faith that would ask someone to invite abuse, especially after someone has been hit once.  That is not forgiveness, that’s foolishness or worse. 

In the movie, The Passion of the Christ, Jesus’ suffering is the entire plot.  Yes, Jesus suffered.  Yes, Jesus was killed.  Yes, God was present in Jesus in that suffering and death.  But to say that God ordained that Jesus suffer and die so that our sins would be forgiven, doesn’t help us live in faith, nor does it paint a very pretty picture of God.  Jesus shows us a way of faithful living that risks even death for standing up to the sins of the powerful.  Jesus’ death and continued presence gives us hope that even the worst torture, the most painful betrayal, desertion, and death can be overcome with new life. 

Barbara Brown Taylor, while a student at Yale Divinity School in the 70’s, discovered that the library books she needed were often missing.  When she inquired about it, she was told that, “the Divinity School had the highest theft rate of any graduate school in the university.  “Why do you suppose that is?” she asked.  The librarian responded, “Grace,” he said, with a rueful look on his face.  “You guys figure all has been forgiven ahead of time, so you go ahead and take what you want.” 

Using Jesus as our excuse, frees us to sin and sin again, assured that because of Jesus’ death, we, are forgiven no matter what we did.  I believe that God loves and forgives us before we even acknowledge that we’ve done something wrong.  And I believe that forgiveness is different for mortals. 

One of the advantages of only preaching once a month is that I begin thinking about the scripture weeks ahead of when you hear it (and usually this is a good thing.)  So, when my niece, Whitney, ran away two weekends ago, the story of the prodigal son was in my head and heart.  I could picture myself welcoming her back and then saw a great sermon illustration for you about how this forgiveness stuff really can happen in real life.  But, you know, it didn’t work that way.  After being so worried about her, I got mad at what she did, and even though my first words to her were, “are you all right?”  my next words showed my fear and anger.  I wanted her to understand what she had done to our family in leaving, and I wanted it to be unpleasant enough that she wouldn’t run away again.  No fatted calf in this story. 

Forgiveness is a tricky thing.  It doesn’t often happen instantly.  Though my mom told us to shake hands and say “sorry” (our version of kiss and make up), the bad feelings were still there.  That’s because the saying sorry part is only the beginning.  To get to forgiveness, often there are a few steps involved.  The first is to recognize that I did something wrong.  The next step is to acknowledge that to the person wronged.  (Note that it doesn’t count if I only acknowledge it to the friend or neighbor of the person I wronged.)  Confessing to God is good, confessing to the person injured by my actions is better.  Now, you see why this forgiveness stuff is so hard. 

Saint Barbara Brown Taylor (she really should be getting royalties for all the times Gene and I quote her) challenges us to go beyond apology, in order to move to reconciliation.  Forgiveness is a starting place, not a stopping place.  It is God’s gift to those who wish to begin again.  The ultimate goal, in Barbara’s words, is “ restoration to community.”  And to get to that place, the first step is repentance.  Repentance means literally to turn around.  Turning around must come before an honest confession or apology, before we can hope to be pardoned or forgiven.  But to move toward restoration or reconciliation, we need to take action.  Action that bridges the wrongs.  Actions of reparation.  So, if we want to reconcile, we need to not only decide to change, but also to act in new ways. 

The prodigal son, he’d been away awhile.  After living the wild life, and ending up destitute, the younger son spent some time with the pigs, and there he realized that he didn’t need to be alienated from his family any longer.  He changed.  And he turned around to return home.  Intent on confessing to his father, willing to make reparations by working as a slave on his father’s land, and letting go of whatever caused him to leave in the first place, he walked toward his father.  But his father beat him to the forgiveness.  His father ran to greet him, before the words were even out of the son’s mouth, the father was welcoming him back home.  The image brings tears to my eyes. 

Forgiveness.  Reconciliation.  Love overcoming history.  Not exactly what I would call “spirituality lite.”   New York Times columnist, David Brooks, wants us to believe that what our faith lives really need is a bloody wake up call like that in Mel Gibson’s movie.  He calls the reconciliation found in Mitch Albom’s book, The Five People You Meet in Heaven, spirituality lite.  (that’s lite – like lite salad dressing)  Having seen the Passion movie, I decided to read Mitch Albom’s book and see for myself.  The premise of the book is that after we die, we meet five people who help explain our lives to us, and who offer us a chance to reconcile who we were with what we did, and why.  Ultimately, these five people show us our purpose for being.  Eddie, the main character of the story meets these people, one by one, who re-live moments in his life with him.  As he meets the fifth person, a horrible realization occurs.  “[Eddie] wailed then, and a howl rose within him from the very belly of his being, a howl that rumbled the river water and shook the misty air of heaven.  His body convulsed, and his head jerked wildly, until the howling gave way to prayerlike utterances, every word expelled in the breathless surge of confession: “I killed you.  I KILLED YOU,” then a whispered, “forgive me,” then, “FORGIVE ME, OH GOD …” and finally, “What have I done…WHAT HAVE I DONE?…”   After awhile, he begins to make reparations, to begin to heal what had been so horribly broken.  To reconcile.

If we as humans can move to reconciliation, we would move spiritual mountains, and change creation.  Something that requires a depth of faith beyond what anyone could call “lite” spirituality.  A friend of mine, in Seattle, Margaret Rose, recently shared this poem.  Her brother, Paul, wrote it when he was 16. 

If all the knowledge inked in books,

Could be in one great text

With one great title on its front,

And only one index,

 

The words that I would like to see

Upon that mighty cover,

Would be imprinted much like this –

To love your fellow brother.

 

And then if man from sea to sea

Would read the script therein

And understand its mighty fact

And realize his sin,

Then thoughts would change from those of crime,

Of greed and self-protection,

To those of universal love,

And brotherly affection.

 

If in this world of want and war

A union could be met

With brotherhood its mighty head

And God its legal set,

 

Then life would thrive and man would live,

And peace would rule supreme,

And I would know a world, which now

Is but to me a dream.