THE POWER OF PARABLE,
THE POWER OF POETRY

INTRODUCTION

The title of my homily for this Fourth Sunday in Lent is, “The Power of Parable, The Power of Poetry.”

In today’s gospel we have perhaps the best known story of all time: the story of the Prodigal Son.

Or should I say, perhaps, one of the best known stories of all times – because other stories could be in the contest: the story of the Good Samaritan – the story of the Tortoise and the Hare, the Story of Adam and Eve eating forbidden fruit, Cain Killing his Brother and saying, “Am I my brother’s Keeper?” What about the Wizard of Oz or Casablanca or Don Quixote?

Whatever. The parable of the Prodigal Son is up there.

PARABLES
And we all know the English word that comes from the second part of the word “parable”: “ball. Parable is from the Greek words “para” and “ballein”.

A parable is a story thrown to us. Catch the ball. Catch the story. Catch the illustration.

Jesus was a pro at this – so too Aesop – so too every other TV commercial.

Those of you who know Father Jack Harrison – know he loves to preach using stories, illustrations, anecdotes.


Catch the story. Catch the ball. Catch the message.

THE STORY OF THE PRODIGAL SON

I love the story of the Prodigal Son. Did you catch it this morning? Did Jesus catch you with it this morning?

In my 45 years as a priest I’ve heard at least 1,000 people say, “You know, I would love to read the Bible. Where should I start?”


And 250 times I’ve said, “Read The Letter of James. If you don’t get that, you’re not going to get the Bible.”

And 750 times I’ve said, “Read the 15th chapter of the Gospel of Luke. If you don’t get the 3 parables in the 15th Chapter of Luke, forget it. You’re not going to catch the Bible.

We were taught that Luke 15 contains the theology of grace in a nutshell – in 3 short stories, 3 short parables – much better than a whole book of theology on grace.

The first 2 stories – the parable of the last sheep and the story of the lost coin – has God going looking for us and then finding us. And the third story, that of the Prodigal Son has God waiting for us to return.

That’s the way grace works. Sometimes God works this way; sometimes God works that way.

Parents do the same thing. Sometimes you scream and try to reach out to your kids who are being stupid and sometimes you wait.

Husbands and wives do the same thing. What method works best when you’re lost or being stupid?

Today’s parable of the Prodigal Son has the Father waiting for his son to return.

It’s a powerful parable. Catch it if you can.

Sometimes we’re the father. Sometimes we’re the younger son and we really mess up our lives. Sometimes we’re the older brother and we’re furious when someone in the family is allowed back into the family and there are no repercussions but forgiveness and a banquet.

TITLE OF MY HOMILY

The title of my homily is, “The Power of Parable, The Power of Poetry.”

I’ve preached on the parable of the Prodigal Son many, many times.

I’ve heard some great sermons on the Parable of the Prodigal Son.

I’ve heard some great retellings of the Parable of the Prodigal Son. I cry every time I hear Philip Yancy’s retelling of the story. He makes it a girl in Traverse City, Michigan is very angry at her parents and their rules and regulations and runs away. She goes to Detroit and ends up in prostitution and utter poverty. When she hits bottom she calls up her parents and all she gets is an answering machine. She calls again and once again she gets an answering machine. This time she says I’m taking a bus back to Traverse City at such and such a time – and on the bus home she says to herself, “If nobody is there in the bus depot, that means they don’t want me back, so I’ll get back on the bus and head for Canada.”

She gets off the bus in Traverse City, Michigan very slowly. Very reluctantly she walks into the bus terminal. It’s filled with banners and balloons and her parents and 40 aunts and uncles, cousins and friends, tooting horns and screaming, “Welcome home.”

Welcome home. In his version there is no older brother who won’t forgive.

The power of parable.

THE POWER OF POETRY

I’m a poet and have written over 1000 poems – some published in three books – two of them published –now out of print. I’ve always hoped one or two poems would make it big. Besides homilies, I have put some of my poems on my blog, because I have read some very powerful poems by others. So I know that some poems grab people – so my hope is that a poem or two will grab someone back home to grace.

The other day while thinking about this parable of the Prodigal Son, I wrote a new prodigal son poem – so now I have 3 of them. One of them is published already. So I decided in this homily to test out three poems that I have written on the Prodigal Son. The first embraces the whole chapter of Luke 15 – and the other two – just the parable of the Prodigal Son. Here comes poetry.

COIN, SHEEP AND SON

Lost and found,
“Baa!” a whining sheep
caught in thick brambles,
a shiny coin
lost in a dark underneath,
underneath a carpenter’s table,
a pigsty scented son
in a far country,
all three waiting in
disconnection,
sheep and coin,
waiting and wondering,
a son hitting bottom,
caught in entanglements,
stuck in himself,
all alone in a dark mess,
a father back home waiting,
waiting, looking out each day
for his return, an older
brother who could care less,
the sheep, the coin, hoping to be found,
the younger son deciding to go home,
all three swept clean by grace,
all three embraced by kindness and love.

When found, celebrate.

THE LOST SON

Two brothers:
one stayed home,
so the other moved on.
But paths cross,
parents die,
and we all must meet each other
from time to time.

As the younger brother
was standing there
to the right of the casket,
his older brother
came in -- came in
and refused to shake hands
with either his hands
or his eyes.

Then the younger brother
turned to the casket,
turned to his dead father,
needing another embrace,
crying at the loss
of what might have been,
remembering the time
their father
tried to get them
to eat the fatted calf together.

PRODIGAL, OBVIOUSLY

Obviously I’m a disaster,
leaving home with big dreams,
never expecting my story
to end as this one ends: a nightmare.

Obviously, in the rush of youth,
I had to run – refusing to listen.
So here I am in this far country –
so all alone – so deep and dumb.

Obviously my money’s gone.
I stand here empty, banging
metal vending machines –
full but I’m empty.
Nothing gets you nothing.

I’ve hit hungry pig slop bottom.
Maybe I should head home.
Obviously my brother will
forgive me, but will my father?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Painting on top: Prodigal Son by Rembrandt, c. 1669

Philip Yancy tells the Lovesick Father story in his book, What's so Amazing about Grace?, pages 49-51. The book is published by Zondervan Publishing House, Grand Rapids, Michigan, 1997

Poem, The Lost Son, page 119 in Cries .... But Silent, Andrew Costello, Thomas More Press, 1981