Forgiving Our Shame

There are so many ways to look at this passage. It is rich with meaning. Today we are going to look at it through the lens of shame. To do that, it’s important that we understand that first century Middle Eastern culture was defined by honor and shame. A state of balance would have required that all people were honored appropriately according to their status.  And if anyone brings shame to themselves, they also bring shame to their families and the balance must be restored somehow. 

Essentially, that’s where the rules of “eye for an eye, and tooth for a tooth” come from.  It’s a one for one that rights the honor shame balance.

Jesus challenged this cultural more when he said to turn the other cheek. He wasn’t advocating abuse or suggesting we all ourselves to be anyone’s punching bag.  Instead, he was challenging the honor/shame rules. If someone were to strike you on the cheek, they would have shamed you, so you were obligated to strike back to restore the honor balance.  By negating this rule, Jesus was suggesting something different, something greater, than the honor/shame system.  He was saying, it’s not all about your honor, that’s not what’s most important, and in that time and place, that was an incredibly radical and new idea.  Culture was dictated by the rules of honor. 

So, now if we look at today’s passage, we can explore what would have brought honor or shame to this family.  Most of us would have considered the
“wild living” the main thing that brought shame, but it wasn’t. It did. But it’s not the only, or even the main one.

Let’s walk through the passage.  

Luke 15:11-32

^11-12 Then he said, “There was once a man who had two sons. The younger said to his father, ‘Father, I want right now what’s coming to me.’

·          

We may have become accustomed to this type of request in the modern world, but in the first century, this was scandalous.  In essence, what the son was saying was, “I wish you were dead.  Then I could have your money.”  In this culture, family was held above all else and sons learned the trades of their fathers and continued the family traditions. They didn’t leave. And they certainly didn’t request an inheritance before someone was dead.  That type of request, in and of itself, would have brought shame.  It implied something was wrong with the family, or the business, or the relationships, something was wrong in order for the son to want to leave and the father, likely, would have felt great shame at having failed.

^12-16 “So the father divided the property between them.

·           

And yet, the father didn’t force the issue.  He went on to sell half the property for the son.  He couldn’t have pulled money from an IRA or from a savings account. The only way he could have given the son any money, would have been to sell his livestock. So now, the shame is doubled. He has to go to his friends, his neighbors, the others in town and ask them to buy his sheep or his goats, and of course, they would have asked why he would sell so much, why sell so many all at once, and then more shame, because my son wants his inheritance now. 

·         The pain of loss and failure continue to weigh heavy on his heart. 

It wasn’t long before the younger son packed his bags and left for a distant country. There, undisciplined and dissipated, he wasted everything he had. After he had gone through all his money, there was a bad famine all through that country and he began to hurt.

·          

This part of the story we know well. The son ran off and squandered his inheritance.  He played and partied and lived it up and lost it all.  Wasted everything his father had worked for.  The story doesn’t tell us if he realized the gravity of what he’d done here, not yet anyway.  But what he did, that too was shameful.  As a good Jew, he would have held strict moral laws. He was not to interact or eat with Gentiles.  And to make friends in this strange place, we can imagine that he drank, and maybe gambled, and maybe slept around.  Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.  And most of it, would have only brought more shame, more disgrace, more disrepute to his family. 

·         By honor shame standards, he would have been better off dead.  It’s hard to recover your honor after all that.  The balance is likely to never be restored. 

[Having wasted it all] He signed on with a citizen there who assigned him to his fields to slop the pigs. He was so hungry he would have eaten the corncobs in the pig slop, but no one would give him any.

·        

 It’s hard to imagine this story getting much worse for this man.  He’s disgraced his father, disgraced his family, and now disgraced himself.  Things had gotten so bad that he agreed to work feeding pigs.  Again, in Jewish culture, there’s not much lower. Pigs are unclean, they are dirty, they eat trash.  And that’s what he fed them, the slop, the kitchen trash. And he was so desperate, he was ready to eat it.  He would have eat half-chewed corn cobs he was so hungry. How could he ever look his father in the eyes again? But instead of finding desperateness, he found a glimmer of hope.

^17-20 “[His desperation] brought him to his senses. He said, ‘All those farmhands working for my father sit down to three meals a day, and here I am starving to death. I’m going back to my father. I’ll say to him, Father, I’ve sinned against God, I’ve sinned before you; I don’t deserve to be called your son. Take me on as a hired hand.’ He got right up and went home to his father.

·        

 This may sound like a great idea, but from the inside, from the honor shame side, this was NOT a good plan.  This would have only proven to the community, and to his family, and to his father how bad he was.  Returning only would have heaped shame on his family.  It would have proven to the world that they were failures; you only had to look at their son to see that.

·         If he were a woman, in honor shame culture, he likely would have been killed.  But as a man, he simply would have been cut off. 

·         If he were to return, the cultural expectation would have been that the father would have thrown a jar on the ground, shattering it, a symbol of their shattered relationship and a sign to the son that he should leave. 

^20-21 “[But that’s not what happened, instead] When he was still a long way off, his father saw him. His heart pounding, he ran out, embraced him, and kissed him.

·          

Sounds perfect for Hollywood, but again, in the first century, that too would have been shameful.  Men in the day wore robes, long robes that went to their feet.  Like the women, they would have been completely covered.  Neither men nor women revealed their skin in public.  Men could show their head and hair, where women couldn’t, but men too were covered. And to run, he would have had to hike up his robe, exposing his bare legs and bringing shame to himself. 

·         And yet this dad didn’t care. He just picked up his robes and ran to his son, wrapped his arms around him, and hugged him and kissed him.  The emotion was overwhelming.

The son started his speech: ‘Father, I’ve sinned against God, I’ve sinned before you; I don’t deserve to be called your son ever again.’ ^22-24 “But the father wasn’t listening. He was calling to the servants, ‘Quick. Bring a clean set of clothes and dress him. Put the family ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Then get a grain-fed heifer and roast it. We’re going to feast! We’re going to have a wonderful time! My son is here—given up for dead and now alive! Given up for lost and now found!’ And they began to have a wonderful time.

·          

Culturally, everything would have said there was way too much shame for anyone in this situation to bear.  The father had been shamed, the family had been shamed, the son had been shamed.  Their relationships had been broken, not just with each other, but with the townspeople. Their friends and neighbors would have kept their distance since the family was clearly broken.  And you wouldn’t want their shame to begin to disgrace you or your family. 

·         The father broke the mold. He rebuked the rules.  He said, “to heck with what you all think.  My son is here and we are going to party!!!  To kill the fatted calf was a sign that the whole town should be getting together.  There were no refrigerators, no deep freezers, to kill a cow meant EVERYONE was going to be eating, you all better bring a friend because the food will be crazy abundant. 

·         The father was surprisingly unconsumed with the honor and shame of it all.

^25-27 “All this time his older son was out in the field. When the day’s work was done he came in. As he approached the house, he heard the music and dancing. Calling over one of the houseboys, he asked what was going on. He told him, ‘Your brother came home. Your father has ordered a feast—barbecued beef!—because he has him home safe and sound.’

·        

 The brother had missed the fanfare, he only heard the party, music and dancing…that means the neighbors did come. They were the band, they were the dancers. Everyone else had disregarded the rules too and they were all getting together for fun and festivities.  And that roiled the brother.

^28-30 “The older brother stalked off in an angry sulk and refused to join in. His father came out and tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t listen. The son said, ‘Look how many years I’ve stayed here serving you, never giving you one moment of grief, but have you ever thrown a party for me and my friends? Then this son of yours who has thrown away your money on whores shows up and you go all out with a feast!’

·        

 We may think he was being selfish, but the brother is actually the only one who really understood what was going on. There were rules. There were standards.  This good for nothing had soiled their reputation, he heaped shame on all of them. And he dared come back.  There is no place in an honor shame home for someone like that.  He should have died out there. That’s what he deserved. And only his death would have restored their family honor. The older brother saw the picture clearly and he couldn’t understand why no one else saw it. 

^31-32 “His father said, ‘Son, you don’t understand. You’re with me all the time, and everything that is mine is yours—but this is a wonderful time, and we had to celebrate. This brother of yours was dead, and he’s alive! He was lost, and he’s found!’”

·          

The father sees and acknowledges that there is something bigger.  The father is not consumed with shame, instead he welcomes his son. He consumed with the relationship.  He wants nothing more than to be restored in their relationship.  He isn't worried about the rules, or about culture, or about who's saying what. He loves his son, and his son has returned, that's the bottom line. 

Now this isn't just some story about a man and his son. This is a parable.  It's a story Jesus uses to shed light on the character of God and how God relates to us.  What we see is that God isn't concerned with where we've gone, or what we've done, or how we've failed. God doesn't toe the line of what the community thinks is right or wrong. God cares about us. God wants us to come back and be in relationship.  And so when we realize where we've gone wrong and come back with a repentant heart, God throws propriety to the wind and comes running to greet us.  God doesn't want your shame. God wants you. 

Shame clings to most of us.  We all have shame for something or other. We have shame for what we have done, and shame for what we haven't done. We have shame about our kids actions and their failings, for our parents or our in laws. We have shame for the job we have and others for the job we don't have.  We have shame for our debt, and our habits, and our addictions, and our illnesses, and disabilities.  We have shame about our bodies, and our houses, and our dirty dishes, and our unmet goals. Shame seeps into our lives from all angles.  And yet, God says, "I don't want your shame. I don't care what the world says, or what your parents say, I'm your God and I love you just as you are for all that you are."  

So leave the slop behind. Leave the shame behind, and come to the banquet God has prepared for you!

(we finished the sermon time with silent reflection on what causes us shame and allowing God to take that from us and then communion for people to share as they came up to pray and be forgiven.

A Glimpse at the Possibilities

I would venture, most of us come to Easter services expecting to celebrate the risen Christ.  We shout Hosanna and sing Hallelujah because Jesus conquered death and offers us eternal life.  And if things are good, that celebrating is fairly easy to do.  But what do we do when we are desperate for the hope and joy and good news of Easter and yet on Easter morning, it still feels as dark and bleak and hopeless as Good Friday?

How is Easter present when we still don’t have a job?  Or our pain won’t go away? Or the bank balance is still $0? Or the depression hasn’t lifted?  Or our heart still breaks? Or the cancer is still spreading?  Or your spouse’s betrayal still stings? Or your loved one’s addiction keeps wrecking havoc?  Or your grief still steals your breath away?

How do we celebrate then?  How do we muster the faith or the confidence or even the energy to praise God for what God has done, when that reality—the Resurrection story—couldn’t seem further from us?

Last night, I learned that my friends’ 1 -day old baby girl wasn’t strong enough to live.  And their loss broke my heart.  As I imagined their pain, I wondered how they would face Easter.  Would they hull up together and avoid the Hallelujahs or would they dare seek a worship service where the Gospel of hope and new life would stand starkly against their pain?  No matter how strong one’s faith in the resurrection, the promise of eternal life cannot take the place of cherishing those moments with your long awaited baby girl.  So, I wonder, what can Easter mean to them?  To me, it begs the question, how does Easter become real to any of us in the midst of true trial and pain?

I suppose, to answer that, we need to start somewhere.  So, we start in the Gospel of Luke with today’s lesson.  Maybe we can find truth, or hope, or comfort in the lives of the women or the apostles. 

Think about it this way, the women were followers of Christ. They had journeyed with him during his ministry. They had served him and been served by him. They had witnessed miracles and listened to the parables. They had heard his prophecies and been faithful to the end. They were there at the crucifixion and grieved him in the wake of his death. They wanted to honor him and do right by him, so they gathered the spices and got everything ready so they could prepare his body after the Sabbath was over and he was declared officially dead. 

They went to the tomb to anoint his body—his dead body.  They expected to do the normal burial rites and when they got there, Jesus’ body was gone. That wasn’t good news. Someone must have stolen the body and so they stand there wondering what happened? Where could the body have gone?  And then 2 angels—men dressed in dazzling white, clearly God’s messengers, appeared. And the women didn’t rejoice. They didn’t start to celebrate. They were terrified.  They fell to the ground in reverence and waited with fear and trembling for the message God had for them.  And what they heard was, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here. He is risen.” 

Wait. What?!  The living among the dead?  What are you talking about?  Jesus died.  We were there. He breathed his last. Then they laid him here. You must be mistaken. Our Jesus is dead. 

But the angels persisted.  Don’t you remember?  Jesus told you about this. Think back to Galilee.  He said the Son of Man would be handed over to sinners and crucified.  But on the third day he’d rise again.  Don’t you remember?

Then a wash of understanding as the pieces slowly fall into place.  Galilee.  Son of Man. Handed over. Crucified.  Yeah, we remember all of that.  After all, it came true.  We watched it happen.  But on the 3^rd day, he’d rise again.  On the third day, he’d rise again.  He’d rise again. He’s risen?!  He’s risen!  He rose again.  On the third day he rose again!

And as the story finally makes sense, the women run to the apostles and tell them the story. And they’re incredulous.  Not excited. Not overjoyed. Incredulous. The apostles think the women have to be lying.  They’ve lost their minds.  The accusation in Greek is that they’re delirious.  They’re nuts.  That’s what the disciples think. 

And their doubt makes sense to us.  I mean who would believe all of that?  It’s like believing a miracle.  And yet, despite their doubt, or maybe to satisfy it—Peter runs off to the tomb. He has to see for himself.  He either has to prove they’re lying or he has to reach out to touch the truth of the empty tomb for himself.  And off he goes. Only to find the tomb IS empty. Jesus is not there.  But Peter doesn’t leap on a bandwagon of Alleluias or start declaring, “Christ is Risen!” He’s amazed. He’s awestruck.  And he walks away. 

It feels a bit anti-climatic, especially compared with some of the other Gospel accounts, but maybe this one is just the one we need today.  Maybe as we confront pain and anger and failures and brokenness and dead-ends in our own lives, we need to see that the Easter story doesn’t wrap up with sunshine and rainbows.  The Easter story ends with reticence and doubt and confusion tied up with fear and awe.  For the disciples in this story, they don’t see Jesus.  They don’t stand face to face with the fullness of God’s promises. Instead, they stand face to face with the possibility that God has done something.  It’s been suggested by some decently reliable witnesses, but it hasn’t been confirmed.  The possibility of something good, at the very least, allows hope to begin to seep into the story.  It may not be hearty or shining or bright, but it’s there. Hope is there. It offers a spark in the midst of the darkness. 

Where the women and the disciples faced only pain and despair and grief, God offered a glimpse of something better.  God didn’t bowl them over with right answers, and winning lottery numbers, or repentant wrong-doers.  Instead, God silently crept into their story casting a glimmer of light on their shadowy doubts and dark corners. 

Maybe the Good News today isn’t loud and over-stated, but instead subtle, sometimes barely noticeable.  Maybe the Good News today is that we don’t have to pretend that Easter fixes everything that’s wrong in the world and in our lives.  Maybe instead, Easter means that God offers glimpses of hope in the midst of our trials.  Maybe we do leave still seeking a job, or waiting for the test results, or trying to work through the heartache, or resenting our co-worker, or pushing back against the darkness. But hopefully in the midst of those challenges, we can begin to see the tiny shimmers of Easter light.  Maybe we begin to believe the possibility that God will do something to help us. Maybe hope allows us to breathe just a little more easily with a little less worry and a little more conviction that God has not and will not forsake us.  Maybe today we will stand with the disciples and the women and at least begin to question if God isn’t rewriting our story, even beyond the believable.  Amen.