God's Welcome

A sermon preached with the people of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Oakland, California.

The younger son of a wealthy man. who took a gamble, lost the inheritance he asked for early, and fell victim to a widespread famine, had a big apology ready when he headed to his father’s house. But as it turned out, he didn’t need it. He was not asked to renounce any behavior or beliefs. His self – his whole self — was enough. Was all that was hoped for. And, of course, his devoted, rule-following older brother who has always done everything right was angry that his wayward sibling was given gifts he had never been offered. Of course he was angry. I would be too.

The unconditional, astounding, boundless welcome of God can do that. God’s welcome can short-circuit our brains, because it is not based on the things we are so often taught to reach for and rely on: fairness, merit, rule-following. God’s welcome is not interested in conformity or tradition or societal norms or expectations. It is just interested in your self. Your very being. And in the days of Jesus’ ministry as now, that conflicts with what we are told to believe. It conflicts with, as Paul puts it, our “human point of view.”

We aren’t told what happens next, after the father slips out of the festivities to speak with his older son. But we can imagine.

Maybe: he took some deep breaths, calmed himself, and, in the end, joined in the celebration. Maybe he sat down next to his little brother and listened. Learned about his experiences, and sorted them out from his assumptions. Came to understand him. Came to know him.

Or, maybe: the older brother fled to his room, and isolated himself. Maybe he fed his anger and resentment for hours that became days, weeks and years. Maybe he made himself lonely, aloof, and unwell.

Or, maybe: the older brother showed up to the party and made a scene. Maybe he yelled at his brother, at his father; at his whole family. Maybe he turned to threats of violence. Maybe he chased his brother off the property. Banished him from home. Split his community in two. Rescinded the invitation that was not his to rescind.

I’ve tended to think of this, possibly most famous of Jesus’ parables, as a kind of funny little story, with a moniker everyone knows: the Prodigal Son. But today, I’ve gotta say, I feel something deeply menacing stirring in the background of this tale. Because I know now that when the welcome of God runs up against human points of view, it can spark a fire. And that fire can spread quickly.

When welcome and acceptance extended to someone we fear, or hate, or don’t understand elicits strong emotions in us, we have choices to make. The same choices the older brother of Jesus’ imagining had.

When this happens we can examine and interrogate our human point of view, accept our own invitation to the party, join in the feast, and seek knowing and understanding.

Or, we can choose to believe the welcome we witness is simply wrong – a mistake – and feed our anger and resentment in miserable isolation or factionalism.

Or. We can seek to banish the subjects of our anger, our jealousy, our fear, and our frustration, from God’s welcome. We can chase them from home. We can split the community in two. We can rescind an invitation that is not ours to rescind.

And when we choose this last option, I’m afraid we may be putting ourselves between God’s welcome and the ones God welcomes. And that is a precarious place to be.  

To stand between a child of God and the body that makes them feel home.

Between a child of God and a nation that makes them feel safe.

Between a child of God and the language that makes them feel joy.

Between a child of God and the words, art, and expression of truth that make them feel free.

Between a child of God and the loving relationship that makes them feel whole.

Between a child of God and the faith that makes them feel at peace.

Between a child of God and the sovereignty that makes them feel grounded.

To stand between a child of God and God’s welcome. It’s dangerous business.

And we know what it looks like. People in positions of power and influence are choosing this option — to commit to the narrow lens of human points of view. And this choice – these choices – fuel flames of misery for everyone; including the people who make them.

Because, another thing about this brilliant story from our great teacher, is that it addresses one of our most profound fears (that of being ultimately unacceptable and unloveable) and one of our deepest longings (to be accepted and to be loved).

So to reject the truth of this story – that God’s welcome is for all people, with no strings or demands — is to reject not only the welcome of others, but also the truth of our own welcome. Our own acceptance. Our own love. And to let our feelings of anger and fear and rejection lead the way.

But, friends, I promise I’m getting back to the Good News here.

Because we all have these choices. And this morning we have already made one. To be here. Where, like Jesus, we “welcome (fellow) sinners, and eat with them.” Every. Single Week. “All are welcome” is not a cute catch phrase to take for granted. These are words that conflict with widely-held human points of view. In our welcome to this gathering and this meal of bread and wine, we become “ambassadors” and we become, each week, a community of the unconditional, astounding, boundless, welcome of God. Today, we will welcome our whole community right here, to this room. To listen and learn together about the choices that will be made for our city.

Now, it is not lost on me that I must be prepared in these hard days to make hard choices to welcome those who have made choices that make me angry and fearful. I must try to remember that Christ has given us the “ministry of reconciliation.” Try to remember that my own human point of view running up against God’s welcome can spark a fire just as efficiently as anyone else. Thank God I have a community to help show the way.

It is good news that we get to choose. That we all get to choose. Because enough of us, making the brave choice to believe and show that God’s welcome is for all people. And to believe that God’s welcome is for us. — that can build a movement. A movement inspired by “this fellow,” in the words of the Pharisees, who “welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

And that, I do believe, can turn tides, can make change, can put out fires.