+Z’ev

Today’s assigned readings:

Deuteronomy 4:25-31; 2 Corinthians 1:23-2:17; Luke 15:1-2,11-32

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!
Luke 15:17

The prodigal “came to himself” out in the world, poor and destitute, eatting pig-feed out among the Gentiles. What does this mean? What does it mean “Came to himself” when that is the first action on his road back to his father? What does one do, “coming to himself”? (The Greek, btw, contains nothing special or “mystical”. It uses the same word with which you might say, “Come to the table” or “he came to the party” or “she came with us in the car”.)

On the one hand this could be an interesting turn of phrase that simply means “he sat down to talk over the problem with himself.” On the other hand it sure sounds like that 70s quest to find himself.

I’ve noted before my “spiritual journey” through evangelicalism to ECUSA, to paganism to ECUSA, to Orthodoxy… to God, one hopes. I’m praying I’m on this journey God-ward, Love-ward. They are the same thing, after all. And each step, I must admit, feels as if it is a “coming to himself” in the “find himself” way: my coming out, my finding God at each step, my painfully slow growth in the ways of friendship, patience and love, my recent, awkward realisations of regret, and my pangs of guilt for that… it’s this slow and gradual process of “coming to” myself.

The saints like to read in this story a number of things: they like to see Jesus in the role of “father” and us as the prodigal, of course; some like to see the prodigal as a symbol of the gentiles while the elder brother is the Jews (not my favourite readings, to be honest, nor one that works for any of the text beyond vague ideas). But almost every sermon I’ve ever heard or saint’s commentary I’ve read points out the same thing. After “coming to himself”, the first thing he thinks of is his father.

That’s important: “coming to himself” is somehow tied to a God-ward realisation. If life is to be a constant metanoia, a constant turning around to God, then the exact result of any such turn should be God. But this is not to indicate an absence of God in the process before the turning! There is no place where God is not. (If you find one, let me know: there are times when God annoys me so very much!) Unlike the human father in the very human story of the Prodigal, God is always present. “Coming to self” in real life means the realisation that God is present. That moment of internal communion, that moment of union is the beginning of salvation, the beginning of wholeness: a seed, if you will, from which the Tree of Life may grow.

(Just a side note - I’m seeing a connexion here, between “coming to himself” and the Hindu phrase, Tat Tvam Asi, “Thou art that”.)

In my RSS feeds on Tuesday, I found this prose poem by Leonard Cohen:

Poem 50 (”I lost my way, I forgot …”) from Book of Mercy
I lost my way, I forgot to call on your name. The raw heart beat against the world, and the tears were for my lost victory. But you are here. You have always been here. The world is all forgetting, and the heart is a rage of directions, but your name unifies the heart, and the world is lifted into its place. Blessed is the one who waits in the traveller’s heart for his turning.

(Props to A Big Jewish Blog)

Look at the passage from Deuteronomy. It’s the story of the Prodigal told as a prophecy: because of their missteps, God will lead them out into the nations (v 27). There they will be just like the gentiles (v28) but they will suddenly “come to themselves” (vs 29, 30). Then, in verse 31, “Because the Lord your God is a merciful God, he will neither abandon you nor destroy you; he will not forget the covenant with your ancestors that he swore to them.”

Of course, Jesus was speaking to a nation that had been exiled and called home again several times. The theme was common to their faith. The theme is common to us, here in the 21st century as well, regardless of our faith tradition. The 1960s and 70s were about “finding myself”. We know this in our hearts. And when we turn there, God is there only waiting for us to turn.

“Blessed is the one who waits in the traveller’s heart for his turning.”

It is here, I think, where we might begin a discussion of what is, incorrectly, called “Open Communion” - what we mean is something else, “Radically Open Communion” - open to all, baptised or not, Christian or not. (”Open Communion” is, generally, the position that all Christians are welcomed without regard for denominational difference. It’s the official policy of most of the Protestant world.) Although this meditation is not the place for a theological debate, here is a point of this parable as I read it. God is right there: the desire of the person causes the realisation. The event happens. The sacramental action - realisation that “something is wrong”, baptism, communion, or whatever else, Church service, lunch with an ex-boyfriend - that facilitates the moment of “coming to self”, the moment of communion, is unimportant.