Luke 15:11-32
“Cheap grace is the deadly enemy of our Church. ... Cheap grace means grace sold on the market like cheapjacks’ wares. The sacraments, the forgiveness of sin, and the consolations of religion are thrown away at cut prices. Grace is represented as the Church’s inexhaustible treasury, from which she showers blessings with generous hands, without asking questions or fixing limits. Grace without price; grace without cost! The essence of grace, we suppose, is that the account has been paid in advance; and, because it has been paid, everything can be had for nothing…. Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession.
Costly grace is the treasure hidden in the field;... Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again and again, the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a man must knock.”
These are the words of our Lutheran martyr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was executed on April 9th, 1945, for participating in a plot to assassinate Hitler. He published them in a book called, in English, The Cost of Discipleship, in 1937, after the Nazis had come to power, as he was watching German Christians live what he considered to be indulgent, middle-class lives with no concern for the poor or the persecuted. He saw the German church raising no objections to Hitler’s campaign of hate against the Jews, and he saw Christians falling in line as Hitler elevated himself to the status of a god. Bonhoeffer was desperately worried that Christians were using their status as justified saints to excuse themselves from political action, and from working for justice. He had, before he wrote this book, spent time in the United States, in Harlem, amongst African-American Christians, where he learned a great deal about Jesus and justice. His words have inspired Christians across the spectrum, from conservative to progressive, and “cheap grace” has come to mean grace that is wasted, or taken advantage of, thrown away, or abused. It has been used to warn against any proclamation of the Gospel that excuses us from responsibility. We hear it a lot during Lent.
It makes sense. Grace is a precious gift from God, and we are so grateful for it that we don’t like seeing people treat it like nothing. We are frustrated by strangers who show up to have their babies baptized and then we never see them again. We frown when people receive the body and blood of Christ and treat it like a joke. We feel deeply troubled when we see people receive forgiveness and we know their repentance is a sham. We see somebody do something really awful and then watch them sweet-talk their way out of the consequences, we see them give a flowery and entirely inauthentic apology, and we see them forgiven, and we’re disgusted. We see “Christians” living publicly un-Christian lives, and we worry, like Bonhoeffer, that it gives the impression that grace is nothing more than a feel-good, lovey-dovey mantra that has no real power. We don’t want to risk proclaiming a grace that doesn’t hold the recipient accountable. As Bonhoeffer says, forgiveness without repentance, baptism without discipline, Communion without confession––these cheapen the treasure and the power of God’s forgiveness.
Except. And I almost don’t want to say this, because contradicting Bonhoeffer is like contradicting Luther - worse, even, but––I think Bonhoeffer might be missing the radical nature of God’s grace. Or, at least, his interpreters are. Because our Gospel reading for today tells us something quite different.
Our Gospel reading tells us that the father is actually quite wasteful with his treasure. The father in the parable indulges his son’s rather rude request to have his inheritance, extravagantly welcomes him back home even though it’s pretty likely that the son never bothered to send a letter his entire time away, and completely accepts the son’s rather disingenuous apology. He doesn’t ask, “Where have you been? What did you do with all that money? How could you have spent it all so quickly? Why do you think you can just come back as if nothing has happened?” The father sees that his son has thrown away the riches that he gave him and is back for more, and the father is happy to risk giving it all again. We might think the father is a fool––the older brother seems to––but he does it anyway.
This is grace. There is no trick to this parable, no hidden meaning. The father is God, and the riches are grace, and the son who runs away is us. God is engaged in the risky business of proclaiming grace freely and abundantly, lavishly, foolishly. Every time we run away from God, and then return because it was the only thing we knew to do, God welcomes us with abundant love and forgiveness. God doesn’t ask, “Where have you been? Why did you stay away? Why do you think you can come just come back as if nothing has happened?” God risks welcoming us, knowing that we might run away again, knowing that we might throw God’s grace away, or take it for granted, or even abuse it, but God does it anyway.
What joy! What radical grace! No matter what you have done, no matter what you will do, God welcomes you with compassion, with a warm embrace, with a feast and abundant forgiveness! God covers you in God’s own holiness and celebrates you as God’s own child, never mind what others might think.
In fact, the father’s treasure is so abundant that it is there also for the older son––for those annoyed by people who receive God’s love but don’t stick around, for those of us putting our utmost into being good workers in the church and resentful of those who only just show up. Did you notice how much love the father has for the older son? His love isn’t only for the son who has run away. He is also abundant in his love for his resentful, treasure-hoarding son. “You are always with me, and all that is mine is yours!” Even when we look resentfully at those who abuse the Gospel, God still lavishes grace on us. God doesn’t take away our grace, “so we know what it feels like,” in an attempt to get us to be appreciative and less controlling. No, God showers grace on us, too, knowing that we, too, might not appreciate it. Again, radical grace.
Now, our Gospel reading doesn’t tell us what the sons do next. I like to believe that the elder son learns from his father. I like to imagine that he rejoins the party, and when he takes over the farm that he is as lavish with his treasure as his father was. I like to believe that the elder brother repents––turns away from hoarding grace to freely bestowing it on anyone.
And the younger son? Ah... I like to imagine that he learns his lesson, by which I mean he experiences grace and repented. I like to imagine that he is so overwhelmed by the unrelenting abundant love of his father, and even of his brother, that he offers up a sincere apology.
But then again, maybe neither of them does. But that won’t change the behaviour of the father. The father will continue to offer grace to his children, even though they don’t deserve it, even though they don’t appreciate it, as long as they need it. God does this because radical grace has power. It is far more powerful than Bonhoeffer could even imagine. God’s grace doesn’t require us to transform ourselves because God’s grace is transformative.
There was once a mother whose young child got into an argument with her. The child got angrier and angrier and finally scribbled something on a scrap of paper, thrust it into their mother’s hand, and ran off to their room and slammed the door. The mother looked down at the paper, which said, “I hate you!” The mother considered demanding an apology. The mother considered taking away all the toys. Instead, quietly, the mother went into her child’s room, and sat down next to them on the bed, and said, “I found your note. I want you to know that I love you, even if you hate me. I will always love you, and nothing you feel about me will change that.” And the child burst into tears and hugged their mother, and said, whole-heartedly, “I’m sorry.” (True story.)
Bonhoeffer, rest his soul, got it backwards: Repentance is the result of forgiveness.* Discipline is the result of baptism. Confession is the result of Communion. We repent, which means turning, we turn to God because God first turns to us. That is the true power of grace. That is why there can never be such a thing as cheap grace. That is why there is no risk in God’s abundant grace. God wants our hearts, and so God exposes God’s heart to us first, in the form of radical grace. And because it is God, we turn. Thanks be to God. Amen.
* My thanks to Stephen Altrogge for the inspiration to phrase it this way. “Repentance is the fruit of salvation, not a condition of it.” https://theblazingcenter.com/2018/03/cheap-grace.html
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