Do you remember the movie Sunset Boulevard? The movie centers around a woman who was obsessed with her previous fame as a silent movie actress who was going to make a triumphant return to Hollywood, but it was all delusion. It ends with one of the most famous scenes in all Hollywood, when she dramatically descends the stairs thinking she’s finally back in the studio but she’s really being arrested for murder. And she has this wild look in her eye and says, “Alright, Mr. DeMille. I’m ready for my close up.”

She was totally lost in this delusion, the need to be the center of attention, and to be the main character of something grand. She couldn’t just be a simple woman who used to be in movies and later was not.

Seems to me she had an early version of what is now being called Main Character Syndrome, which is something that seems to be a new or at least expanding phenomena due to social media. Now that we can all be stars and capture the world’s attention if we get our posts just right, there are folks out there who are getting a little strange with it all like the actress in Sunset Boulevard. I asked some of our youth about this and Lily told me about some nurses posting videos crying over the loss of patients and how some of these videos are taking on a performative flavor, as if they are making someone else’s death about themselves so that they could be the star. They get to be the “main character.”  

The nature of consciousness is that we are the center of our experience. We experience ourselves as the center of our own lives. But that does not make us the center of the world. It also does not mean we always have control in our own lives and yet people get confused about that sometimes.

So, who is at the center of our stories and worlds? This parable would suggest it’s not who we might think it is. The center of this story, for example, is not (I would argue) the prodigal son. If it were the prodigal son who was the main character, this would not be a satisfying story at all. If it were the brother, this would really not be a satisfying story. Why? Because by the end, there’s so much we don’t know.  

What don’t we know by the end of this parable?

1. Will the prodigal son straighten up and fly right?
2. Is the prodigal son sincere in his repentance or is he just planning on saying the right things to his dad?
3. Will the brother join the party?
4. Will the brothers reconcile? Will they remain kind after their father dies?
5. Will the brother ask for a party for himself after this?

If this parable was truly about the son or the brother, we might know the answer to some of these questions. So, what do we know by the end of this parable?

1. The father will continue to give generously in a way that is potentially wasteful.

Who we learn the most about in this parable is the father. When he has the opportunity to give or forgive, he does so extravagantly and consistently. Maybe even wastefully. (That’s what prodigal means, by the way.)  We can safely assume that whatever happens with his sons, he will continue in his extravagant love, compassion, and forgiveness.

But that’s not where our focus tends to be. We all tend to get caught up in the sons’ behavior and their relative worthiness in this story, probably because we get so caught up in the question of our own worthiness. We get so caught up in this question, we get confused about who really the main character is. Since this story is called the Prodigal Son, we should also be given grace if we think the main character is the son who blows through his inheritance. And there are those of us who identify more with the dutiful son and see the story through the lens of the one who is feeling left out of his father’s love. 

But neither of these two are the main characters. Their actions aren’t the most important ones. The range behavior they demonstrate merely provides the backdrop to demonstrate the father’s prodigious and prodigal love in order to demonstrate Jesus’ point that God’s gifts are not based on worthiness. In fact, God gives more extravagantly to the lost and unsuccessful by society’s standards. The father is the center of this story, wasteful in his love and forgiveness, particularly for the one who least “deserves” this love.

It is also easy for our focus to get sucked into this story of family drama. We can forget that the real drama here is with the ones grumbling about Jesus eating with the “wrong” people, including the “wrong” people into community and God’s love. The grumbly ones are the dutiful sons, who have not been at these same dinners with Jesus due to their own choices to not be there. They are the ones who have forgotten that these rejected people are in fact their brother and sisters. They are their neighbors. Their own sense of what is appropriate, fair, and correct gets in the way of them joining the party. It is their own choice to not be included, just like the resentful son.

The truth is us people have our set of rules for life that are not the same as God’s rules. We’re always trying to earn our place in the pecking order. We want to earn our worthiness. We want to be the main characters who get to decide who’s in and who’s out. Maybe we don’t think we want to earn our place and belonging in the world, but we sure do have a hard time letting that go of that idea.

This parable tells us it’s not really about you and your judgements about yourself. It’s really not about you and your judgements about other people. And it’s certainly not about other people’s judgements about you. There is nothing you can do to separate you (or anyone else) from God’s prodigious and prodigal love for you. God is just gonna keep wrapping you in love and do that doubly so when you’re a mess or when you’ve failed in some way. There is no question about that. There is no hesitation about that.

There is no room for your striving. There is no room for you to even get your repentance right.

When the son says, “I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned again heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son,” I wonder if he even really meant it. We’ve all heard people scheme about how we’ll get something we want through devious means, including ourselves. We say things just like the son. “I’ll just say this thing they want to hear, and they’ll be putty in my hands.”  

But the father doesn’t care what the son has to say. Not really. The son didn’t have to convince the father to come running from a long way off. The father doesn’t say, my son has come to his senses and has repented, let’s celebrate. No. The celebration is simply because he’s just alive and back in his father’s arms. That’s it.

This moment is not about the son getting something right or wrong. He is alive and loved and that’s all. There’s no negotiation. There’s no double checking the sincerity of repentance. It’s just love. It’s just that simple.

The problem is love that simple and extravagant decimates social distinctions that the grumblers (and us) want to keep in place. It also decimates our ideas about us being the main characters, instead of God.

So, what are we doing with our lives if we don’t need to spend our energy earning our place in the world? There’s no such thing as unworthy. Or not enough. Or not wanted. Or not included. These are lies we tell ourselves. Between our funny little brains and Jesus, who is the wiser? Who is more trustworthy? It’s not our funny little brains, particularly if it’s telling us lies like this.

In this story, Jesus is telling us God is unconcerned and even uninterested in our supposed worthiness because it is not an issue. And if we make it an issue, we’re only keeping yourself outside the party. God is not fair in that God is not transactional. This is not a tit for tat world. God is not counting your good works, capacity, or anything else in a ledger and doling out grace accordingly, like Scrooge might.

So, you can take a deep breath and know that you belong, that you are wanted, and perfect as you are in your imperfection. The gift is given. Now, you get to believe it. Have faith in it. Stake your life on that knowledge and live accordingly.

What that means for you, I don’t know. We can talk about it on Tuesday, maybe. What choices might you make differently if you truly knew in your bones you had nothing to prove? What grace and love might open up in you for others? What compassion might you have new access to? Because, again, it’s not about you, really. God shows this grace and compassion and love and forgiveness to everyone, even the ones you know don’t deserve it. The brother in this story could probably tell you a dozen more stories beyond this one about how awful this prodigal son was, if he could talk. We don’t deserve it, but that’s not even the point either. It’s just not about us. It’s about God and the abundance of provision we are given in life.

I believe we all have a touch of Main Character Syndrome. Nothing like the actress in Sunset Boulevard, of course. Or, at least, I hope not! She’s scary. But we can get confused about who is in charge of our worthiness. It is not you. It is not society. It is not your family. It is not your bank account or your health or anything else. It is God’s choice and he loves you, most particularly when you’re un-successful, un-popular, or un-amazing. So, we can relax. We’re in God’s good hands, beloved as we are. 

AMEN