
It’s the last week of January as I’m writing this, and I have to admit, this last Sunday I was both pleasantly surprised and a little bit shocked when I heard a familiar story about a wee little man climbing a tree to see Jesus.
Zacchaeus. Already?
Now, part of the reason that this was particularly embarrassing was because my family and I had literally just been discussing that the Gospel reading was going to be about Zacchaeus. On the way to Church.
But I guess I hadn’t really understood exactly what that meant until I heard the Gospel being proclaimed from the solea, and then it hit me:
Lent is just around the corner.
Soon enough we won’t just be hearing about tiny tax-collectors in trees. We’ll hear stories of pietistic Pharisees and penitent Publicans, stingy goats and self-giving sheep, and of course, free-handed fathers and spendthrift sons.
In just a couple weeks, the Church will put the parable of the Prodigal Son before us, and it has always been one of my favorites. It’s such a clear image of the unfailing love of God toward us, no matter how far we’ve journeyed from home. It’s no wonder we are invited to contemplate it every year.
Usually, we’re invited, of course, to see ourselves in the character of the younger son, the one who journeys to the “far country” and wastes his inheritance on sinful living.
Fr. Alexander Schmemann writes eloquently about how the parable is meant to engender in us both a deep awareness of how far we have wandered from the Father’s home while simultaneously instilling in us “a deep desire to return, to go back, to recover that lost home.”
Today, however, I want to consider the older son, the one in the story who never leaves the home of the Father, the one who is there when the younger son returns.
While the Father runs to greet the wayward son (something no father in that culture would do - the shame!) and kills the fatted calf upon his return, the older brother is flabbergasted by the Father’s prodigality.
After all, to be “prodigal” is simply to be wastefully extravagant, which it seems the Father truly is in this case:
Let no expense be spared, give the boy a ring, fetch the finest robe!
At any rate, the older son simply doesn’t get it.
It’s almost like he’s shocked to find his Father – the man he lives with – to be acting this way.
It’s almost like he didn’t even know his own father.
Though he never left the Father’s house, he clearly never came to know or experience the Father’s recklessly immoderate Love.
Theoretically, the older brother should be a lot like the Father, having spent day after day working for (alongside?) him, seeing how he treats his servants, seeing the way he looks down the road for his other son to come home.
Certainly, he must have had some inkling about who his Father was and what excessive love he was capable of showing.
Surely, he must have learned something about love and welcoming home a brother who was previously lost.
And yet…
So this makes me wonder. To what extent am I the older brother?
I’ve been Orthodox for more than 20 years. I’ve been inside the house, so to speak.
But to what extent have I also failed to come to know the deep love of the Father, even though I go about His business, even though I labor inside His home?
And if that’s the case, how much is this actually impacting my ability to welcome home even the most wayward of people?
My friend recently sent me a YouTube video that has gone somewhat viral. Perhaps you’ve seen it — it features an atheist named Jared reviewing his visit to All Saints Orthodox Church in Raleigh, North Carolina. If you haven’t seen it, you might want to consider checking it out (buyer-be-warned: it contains some swearing and Jared enjoys a cocktail while recounting the details of his visit). What Jared has to say is…astounding.
While I don’t want to get bogged down in a lot of the details – I do think it’s noteworthy that Jared’s experience was that the parish was warm and welcoming, all while it being clear that they were there to worship the Lord - not to win converts or to prove that Orthodoxy was the best iteration of Christianity.
They were just there to do what Christians are called to do – worship God and love others.
What’s more is that no one really seemed to care whether or not he was an atheist. They were just happy he was there.
As Jared’s review continues, we find that he is shocked when the priest invites him over to his home after liturgy, coffee hour, and Orthodoxy 101.
I could go on and on and on about this video. It’s something that all of us should grapple with, even if we decide it’s better not to watch it. And what I mean by that is that each of us should wonder a question: If Jared were to visit our church, what would his experience be?
Would he experience a parish that exemplifies the prodigal love of the Father? Or would he experience the indifference of the older brother?
If Jared were to visit your parish (my parish!) would he experience the radically ordinary hospitality that he tasted in Raleigh, or would he experience something different?
Are we the kind of children of the Father who mirror His imprudent love toward others, or are we priggish in our generosity and welcome?
These are things we need to contemplate. Each of us is called to embody the love of the Father in our real and lived experiences, in our families, in our workplace, in our parish.
If the Father’s warm welcome is going to be shared with others, it must be done through our own arms.
The Church stands as a home for the homeless, hope for the hopeless, and a harbor for those who are battered by the winds of the world. We have been charged with living as children in the Father’s Home, to be those who gladly share the Father’s love with reckless abandon, utter generosity, and sincere joy.
WHAT YOU CAN DO:
First of all, I encourage you to run a bit of a thought experiment - sincerely ask yourself. If Jared were to visit my church, what would he experience? This is not to disparage anything happening at your parish, but rather to attempt to see it with new eyes. It is to ask, “What would someone who has no idea what we’re doing here come to believe is important to us? How would they feel? What would they walk away with?”
Secondly, I think the invitation from the Prodigal Son is very clear.
Welcome others. The Father runs to embrace the Prodigal Son.
Seek out people you don’t know. Many of our churches are exploding in attendance. Introduce yourself to someone you haven’t met yet.
Don’t say things like, “Is this your first time at an Orthodox Church?” Say, “I don’t think we’ve met yet; what’s your name?”
Ask questions about who they are, not about what brings them there.
Be generous. The Father lavishes gifts upon the Prodigal Son.
If your church has a fellowship gathering or coffee hour after liturgy, invite them to stay. Share a meal. Split a donut. Get them coffee. Find ways to extend the love and generosity that has come to you.
Let them talk. Don’t just take this interaction as an opportunity to tell them why Orthodoxy is the oldest and best version of Christianity around; let them share their story.
Don’t be afraid to let them be who they are. There is no need or pressure to make sure that this person converts on the spot or that you get something out of them. This is your opportunity to show generous welcome and love no matter who they are or where they’ve come from.
Integrate them. The Father makes it clear that the Prodigal is still his son.
Find ways to include them in the goings on of the parish. Maybe it means introducing them to others or inviting them to attend Orthodoxy 101.
Don’t be nervous to suggest that they meet your priest. They may be familiar with the customs of large parishes among other denominations in which pastors are somewhat inaccessible to their flock, and nervous to approach a new clergy member. Having access to the head pastor of a community can be a powerful witness in and of itself.
If you’re able and willing, invite someone to your home. While many may still be outside the Church sacramentally, their hearts have already turned toward Christ and His Body, and this may be an opportunity to help them integrate into the larger experience of Orthodoxy by seeking it in your home.
There’s no wrong way to do this, but the older son does show us that it’s possible to miss the love of the Father altogether. Our prayer is that you’ll take this Lenten season as an opportunity to reflect on how the Lord may be inviting you to welcome those who have, until now, been lost. This is our chance not only to experience the radical love of the Father, but also to share it.
Don’t miss it. There’s a party going on.