5/28/2018 0 Comments
Luke 15: 11-32
We are all accustomed to the metaphor of God as father. Each week we say the Lord’s Prayer, which begins with the words Our Father. But how often do we hear God referred to as Mother? Of course, all language about God is symbolic, since God is beyond all concepts and language, but certainly mother and father are major forces in human life, so it should not surprise us that these images have brought people closer to God. I came across a poem recently, portions of which read:
I cry out without a sound to Him I’ve been
told is there,
But my soul yearns for something more.
He knows my pain, yes,
But so does She. And
A mother’s pain
Needs a mother’s comfort.
In both Matthew and Luke, Jesus, when weeping over Jerusalem, the city that rejected the prophets and would eventually kill him, referred to himself as the mother hen, longing to gather her brood together under her sheltering wings. In Genesis, where God is sometimes referred to El Shaddai, usually translated as God Almighty, scholars say that the word Shaddai derives from the word, shad, which is a woman’s breast, the place where a baby is cuddled and nursed. Some years ago, when I was visiting France, I was in a cathedral---I cannot remember which city it was, and this massive wooden pulpit, was held up by a statue of a nursing mother. Now this was a Roman Catholic Church, but as a Protestant who sees the pulpit as the central symbol, I was blown away by that image: the place where the word of God is pondered, interpreted and preached, upheld by a nursing woman.
Now let’s change directions. Take a look at this copy of one of the greatest paintings ever painted: Rembrandt’s Return of the Prodigal Son. You heard the story. This younger son, in asking for his inheritance basically told his father, “I wish you were dead.” Such a request was beyond all decent convention. And then he goes out and lives a life of dissipation until he is broke and is hired to feed the pigs—for a Jew that is the lowest of the low. And so he returns home, falls at his father’s feet and begs for forgiveness. I am unworthy to be your son, he confesses.
Now take a look at the father: He is an old man; his eyes look almost blind. He wears a huge red cape, wing like in its ability to gather and protect the son under its folds. Now look at the hands. Those hands mesmerized Henry Nouwen, one of the great spiritual teachers of the 20th century, who died in 1996. When Nouwen went to St. Petersburg, to the Hermitage Museum, where this painting is, he sat and stared at it for over four hours. And he could not take his eyes off those hands. Of course the father in this parable is a metaphor for God, but in those hands, Nouwen said we have the hands of both a mother and a father. Let me read to you what Nouwen wrote:
The father’s left hand touching the son’s shoulder is strong and muscular. The fingers are spread out and cover a large part of the prodigal’s shoulder and back. The hand seems not only to touch, but also to hold. How different is the father’s right hand! This hand does not hold or grasp. It is refined, soft, and very tender. The fingers are close to each other, and they have an elegant quality. It lies gently upon the son’s shoulder. It wants to caress, to stroke, to offer consolation and comfort. The father in this painting is indeed God in whom both manhood and womanhood, fatherhood and motherhood are fully present.
The parable tells us that the father ran to meet his returning son, and indeed in the Bible there are stories suggesting a God who searches for the lost---the lost sheep, the lost coin. But Rembrandt choose to paint not the movement of God, but rather the stillness of God. “What I see, Nouwen wrote, “is God as mother, receiving back into her womb the one whom she made in her own image. The near blind eyes, the hands, the cloak, the bent over body, they all call forth the divine maternal love, marked by grief, desire, hope and endless waiting. God has chosen to become linked to the life of her children. She has freely chosen to become dependent on her creatures, whom she has gifted with freedom. When they leave, she grieves; when they return she is glad. But her joy will not be complete until all who have received life from have returned home and gather together around the table prepared for them.”
Rembrandt, by the way, painted this painting as an old man. Though he had enormous success early on, living a life of luxury, it all came crashing down. He lost his wealth; he lost two wives, two mistresses and four children; only one daughter survived him. And yet his losses did not disillusion him. In fact, some say his losses had a purifying effect on his artistic sight. He began to regard humanity and nature with an even more penetrating eye, no longer distracted by riches and outward splendor. And it was then, and only then that he could paint what some say is the masterpiece of his life, The Return of the Prodigal Son.” Shortly after its completion, Rembrandt died. And we are left with a gift that invites our reflection and our gratitude as it leaves us with many penetrating questions one of which is: Who is God for us?
11 Then Jesus said, “There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’ So he divided his property between them. 13 A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. 14 When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. 16 He would gladly have filled himself with[b] the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. 17 But when he came to himself he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! 18 I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.”’ 20 So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. 21 Then the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’[c] 22 But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; 24 for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate.
25 “Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. 27 He replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.’ 28 Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. 29 But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’ 31 Then the father[d] said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’”
About Our Pastor:
I am very happy to be here at the First Church of Christ, Congregational in Unionville, CT. I arrived here in July, 2017, and have been warmly received. This is a wonderful church community. I have been an ordained minister for over three decades now, and I consider it a great privilege and challenge to be called to serve. Before coming to Unionville I served churches on Long Island, Middletown, CT and then ten years in New Haven, Center Church on the Green. My home is in Middletown, where I live with my husband, Donald Oliver, who is a professor of molecular biology at Wesleyan University. We have four grown children, two boys and two girls and three granddaughters, the youngest born on October 3, 2017!