Sermon:  Redeeming Father's Day

 

This sermon had its genesis around the dinner table last month.  We were talking about Mother's Day and Melinda says, "We don't make nearly as big a deal about Father's Day as we do about Mother's Day." To which Monica replies with characteristic teenage surety, "Well, duh, Dad's don't care about that sort of stuff."  It was an exchange that got me thinking.  Indeed, we don't make as big a deal about Father's Day, but I think it goes deeper than a lack of sentimentality on the part of fathers.  Now, it just so happened that I had recently agreed to preach the sermon on June 18 during Dan's sabbatical, so I resolved then and there to do a Father's Day sermon.  

 

I'm not sure if I've ever heard a Father's Day sermon, but I'm going to start with the assumption that Melinda is right--we don't make as a big a deal about Father's Day as Mother's Day and at the root of this is a level of cultural discomfort with fathers and fatherhood.  After all, the commercial engine that drives all these holidays is no more vested in moms than dads.  They all want you to go out and buy dad a greeting card or better yet, a cordless electric drill, new iPod, or 

a cherry red Pontiac Solstice convertible.  But the culture is far more ambivalent about fathers.  We have "mom and apple pie," but "deadbeat dads".  Men behaving badly. Beer commercial stereotypes of dads as Budweiser-swilling, sports-obsessed, girl-watching, channel-surfing, couch potatoes.  TV dads are likely to be more like Homer Simpson, Archie Bunker or Al Bundy than Heathcliffe Huxtable--in other words, they're idiots.  Disney Dads are typically hapless schmucks continually shown up by their wise-cracking, telegenic children.  Movie dads don't fare much better--in Mrs. Doubtfire, Robin Williams, the irresponsible dad redeems his fatherhood by taking on the persona of aging scottish nanny Mrs. Doubtfire.  In the Godfather, Marlon Brando gives us fatherhood, mafia-style, In Star Wars, Luke Skywalker's father is, well....Darth Vader.  Happy Father's Day!  Popular music isn't any kinder to dads.  Dad's are objects of rebellion, as in Linkin Park's "Numb":

 

i've

become so numb

i can't feel you there

become so tired

so much more aware

i'm becoming this

all i want to do

is be more like me

and be less like you 

 

We've come a long way since "Father Knows Best."  Is it any wonder that there's ambivalence about Fathers on Father's Day?  Even in the church there are issues.  As long as I've been a Christian we've been expunging mail gender pronouns from hymns and worship materials.  As the father of two girls, I support the heightened sensitivity to gender issues and inclusiveness, but I also find it hard not to feel some level guilt--that I'm somehow responsible for generations of wrong perpetrated by a patriarchal culture.  I'm not even saying I shouldn't feel that guilt--it's just that guilt is not a very productive emotion.  God gave us grace to free us from sin and guilt.

 

Now, you might reasonable say, what do you expect?  It's a corrosive culture that corrupts and distorts everything it touches--look at Christmas, Easter, humor, sexuality.  Should we really expect Fathers to be immune?  Perhaps not, but let's set aside the cultural baggage for a moment and look at roles of Father in today's society.  

 

Breadwinner, ideally bringing home something approaching the median household income, without breaking the law or staying too late at the office.

Husband, preferably a sensitive romantic, who shares household duties, can cook a gourmet meal or at least grill, is "handy", puts the seat down, and notices new clothes, hairdoos, and other household and yard improvements

Athletic Supporter, preferably little league coach, or at least competent in one or more high profile sport, and certainly knowledgeable about current events in the sporting world.

Civic leader, pillar of the church sort, maybe on the PTO or at least the neighborhood association board.

Father, firm yet fun, able to dispense both discipline and wisdom in ways that reach children of varying ages without contradicting what your Mother said, spends "quality time" with children--whatever that is.

Homeowner, preferably one who improves the property values of neighboring houses, knows when to apply crabgrass preventer and does it, has a well-organized shop and is on a first name basis with all the clerks at Menards.

 

Pretty daunting stuff.  Fathers, if you're like me, you're trying awfully hard, maybe even have flashes of brilliance in a some of these areas, but spend plenty of time feeling inadequate compared to other super-dads, real or imagined.

 

Redeeming fatherhood

 

And so I stand before you today, Father's Day, a Father in need of redemption. Redemption from the cultural perversions of fatherhood, the baggage of patriarchy, the unrealistic expectations of our middle class Christian milieu, and my own failings as a person and father.  And when I, as a Christian need redemption, I turn to Jesus.   Part of Jesus' legacy on earth was to reveal God's nature as a gracious, loving Father, and in so doing, He reveals as much about the true nature of Fathers as the nature of God.  Let's look at one of the central scripture passages in this revelation, Luke 15:11-32, the famous parable of the prodigal son.

 

Jesus is telling this story to a crowd of sinners and tax collectors, and pharisees.  It's a thinly veiled allegory, and I expect most of his listeners knew it . . . particularly the pharisees.  The father is God, the younger son is a "sinner" and the older brother is a pharisee.  Now, on to the story. . .

 

It starts with what has to be a really unpleasant situation.  The young son is asking dad to carve up the estate. . . can't wait until he dies.  Has to have it now.  This is tantamount to saying 'I wish you were dead.'  Put yourself in the Father's shoes.  It's got be one of the worst moment in any parent's life.  When children are young, they give you strokes, they think you're smart, they want to be like you, they want to sit on your lap and be read to.  When they're teenagers that all changes and you as parent need to be prepared to be treated, at least on occasion, like 'the rent', like nothing you've done for them was important or mattered, like you are the primary impediment to their fulfillment as individuals.  The father in the parable faces down this moment with amazing grace and dignity.  There's a groundedness there that says, 'painful as this is, I know it's not the end of the story. It's a developmental phase. It's not about me. And nothing you do can change who you are and how I feel about you.' No yelling, no sarcasm, no threats or predictions, just complete freedom.  Amazing.  My Father's Day prayer for all of us is that we might find in our relationship with God, the strength to tap into that groundedness, that long-term perspective, that deep love, so that in a difficult moment we can be what they call in systems theory, a "nonanxious presence"--that cool, steadying influence that de-escalates a tense situation.

 

Back to the story--indeed, the son does leave... packs up his money and heads to a distant country where he squanders his inheritance in wild living.   As you might expect the money runs out, and to top it all off, there's a famine.  In order to survive, the prodigal finds himself doing the absolute worst thing that a good Jew could do. . . taking care of the pigs.  This is rock-bottom.  It's here in the pig-sty that the young son comes to grips with his own state. . . and decides he'd rather be the lowliest person on his father's estate than where he is now. This leads to our next encounter with the father in the story:

 

Reading from Luke 15:20 and following:  

 

"So he got up and went to his father.  But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.  "The son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.  But the father said to his servants, 'Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' So they began to celebrate. 

 

The first thing we can say about the father in this story is he doesn't hold a grudge.  He'd have every right to let the younger son have it--"Where's the money?  I figured you'd come crawling back." But no, just a hug, the ring of sonship and a party.  The second observation is the grace.  The younger son has probably practiced this speech a hundred times on the long walk home.  "Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you.  I am no longer worthy to be called your son.  Make me as one of your hired hands." And you know what?  He's right. He's not worthy to be called his son. He has sinned against heaven and his father.  But his father doesn't even let him finish the speech before he's calling for the ring of sonship.  Amazing grace.  But of course if he deserved to be forgiven, it wouldn't be grace, would it?  Third observation about the father, he knows when to celebrate.  Let's take him at his word that they thought he was dead, and he shows up out of nowhere.  That's worthy of a celebration.  I wouldn't even rule out that over the next few days, there might have been some pretty intense conversations between father and son--so just what did you DO in that foreign land?--but not tonight. Tonight we party.

 

The next revelation of the father's character comes with his encounter with the oldest son.  The son has just returned from a hard day in the fields and when he learns what's happened and he's steamed.   The fact that the younger son is back and wearing the ring of sonship means he's getting gypped out of even more of his inheritance and he doesn't like it one bit.  He refuses to go in.  At this point, things get pretty complex.  It's clear that the father wants the older son to extend the same grace to his younger brother that he has.  And the older son isn't buying.  Here, my observation is that the father exhibits a principled determination to do the right thing.  He doesn't waiver, even in the face of the older son's best "let's get my brother in trouble" maneuver.  Notice that line? " when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!'"  The bit about the prostitutes doesn't come anywhere earlier in the story, so I'm pretty sure the intent is that the older brother is exaggerating--trying to make his brother look as bad as possible.  But father doesn't bite, he simply reiterates the importance of celebrating the homecoming of the lost son.  My final observation about the father in this story is that he has two very different sons, with very different needs, and each challenging in their own way. The father exhibits an unwaivering determination to give each son what he needs, and to love each son unconditionally, even if that opens him up to accusations of being unfair, unequal, or even naive.  You know, whatever happened to tough love?  

 

I picked this passage for the redemption of Father's Day, because Jesus, in 22 short verses manages to transform our understanding of God, grace and fatherhood, giving us a devotional piece that we can mine over and over again, and still come away with some new insight.  The other person I look to to redeem Father's Day is my own father.  Sociologists tell us that our relationship with our fathers shapes our views of God. If that's so, I suppose my father can take credit for my being a Christian today.  While I harbor no illusions about his perfection, over a lifetime I've seen him model fatherhood in a way that reminds me a lot of the father in the passage today.  I grew up knowing that he'd lost his own father when he was 14 years old, his dad was 50, and I sensed in him, both a determination not to have that happen to us, and a relish of those years as his children grew up into adults.  He's 73 years old now and I count him not just as good father, but as one of my best friends. 

 

My final act of redemption of Father's Day is a little risky, but I want to invite whoever feels moved to say a few words of tribute to your own father on this Father's Day, the ushers will bring you a microphone and after a while we'll move into general sharing time.    Let's start with someone under the age of 10.. .What do you like about your dad?