The Church is the Prodigal Son

A reflection based on a sermon that was not delivered as a result of a canceled service.

I think one of the many reasons Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son still holds our attention is the way that the story addresses one of our most profound fears (that of being unacceptable and unloveable) and one of our deepest longings (to be accepted and to be loved).

Every time I hear the story, there is that little shock of surprise, and that little swell of emotion when the father runs to his wayward child. When he embraces him. When he kisses him. This son seriously messed up. And yet when he returns, he finds acceptance and he finds love. Just waiting there for him.

Jesus tells this story in response to what is meant to be a dig at his expense: “this fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” But of course, that critique is actually one of the most compelling summaries of what this Jesus thing is all about.

As I’ve been thinking about this story this week, and the many ways it can be entered into, I identified an interpretation I’ve been carrying around with me. Maybe you have too.

I’ve been imagining the church as the father in this story. And I’ve come to understand that this interpretation has had a profound effect on me.

I have been standing at the edge of a field, waiting for our prodigal children to return. Waiting for them to walk through those big red door, to find a pew, to open the prayer book, to ask me about God. Any day now, they’ll come. And we’ll be ready.

If we polish up the “all are welcome” signs, if our greeters are in place, if we have the feast prepared and the party planned. If we continue to hold our authentic intentions of acceptance and love for all of God’s people in place, they will come. The newcomers, the young folks, the families. They will come.

And sometimes they do come. Sometimes people walk through the doors of our churches for the very first time, and we are changed and enriched. But for most of our congregations, this isn’t a frequent occurrence.

And so, I’ve started to wonder, what if I flip the roles in this interpretation I’ve been holding onto?

What if the church is the prodigal child?

I’ve found that letting go of this image of the church as the welcoming father has felt like a loss. But it has also felt freeing. Because imagining us, church, as the prodigal child, could give us fresh agency and options. It could change the questions we might ask ourselves.

Instead of asking the questions of the father:

  • Why don’t they come?

  • Don’t they know how accepted and loved they will be no matter who they are?

  • What can we do to draw them here?

We can ask the questions of the child:

  • Who is standing on the edge of a field waiting for us?

  • What mistakes have we made?

  • How can we find our way?

What if we – Episcopalians – did not imagine ourselves as the patriarch, with the land and the money and the house and the servants and the overflow of food.

What if instead, we imagine ourselves as the prodigal child, trying to find our way home.

Who is waiting for us to show up? What great banquets await if we stop placing ourselves in the role of great benefactor and start showing up in our communities as wayward children?

What if we considered whether we are the wise protectors of our resources, or if we have been reckless with the way we use and do not use them?

Trust me when I say that I don’t pretend I have any great or easy answers here. I’ve just found this thought exercise to be freeing and hopeful and challenging.

The church as prodigal child might identify and voice the ways we have “sinned against heaven” – the ways structural racism is embedded in our institutions, our colonizing history and its enduring legacy, the way our tradition continues to enjoy proximity to power and keeps a tight grip on material wealth.

The church as prodigal child might listen when community members and organizations show us how we can enter into a process of reconciliation based on these sins; perhaps through reparations or service or adjusting our own practices.

The church as prodigal child might humbly show up at gatherings, at public meetings, at volunteer and charitable events, and in line at the grocery store – ready to listen, and learn what is needed before we take action.

The church as prodigal child might spend more time accepting the welcome of invitations to conversation over coffee than it does preparing for Sunday mornings.

Because the church as prodigal child might not understand itself or Sunday mornings as the one and only home of the acceptance and love of God to which wayward children should be drawn. Instead, it might imagine itself as on that path, sharing in, rather than bestowing, the true no-strings welcome of God.

Kathleen Moore