Sermon 3/18/07
The Journey, The Passion: Home - Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32
Part 1 – The Prodigal
(view lectionary notes for this text)
Today we’re looking at perhaps the most well-known parable – the story of the prodigal son. It’s a classic story, really, a tale of two sons, one who takes the good path and one who takes the bad path, and what happens to each of them. It reads almost like a fairy tale. But for Jesus, it is part of a set – three parables that he tells in response to criticism that he is facing from the ever-complaining Pharisees and scribes. Jesus, in the midst of his teaching and preaching ministry, had been attracting some interesting characters – tax collectors and sinners were coming and listening to him. The religious leaders grumbled, sayings, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” But Jesus responded by telling three parables – first, the parable of the lost, another one we know well, where a shepherd has 100 sheep but one gets lost. He leaves the 99 and looks for the one until he find him, and then rejoices and invites his friends to rejoice when the sheep is found. The second is similar – a woman has 10 coins and loses 1. She searches high and low for the coin, and when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors to rejoice with her. Jesus says that these stories show how God rejoices when one who is lost repents and is found again.
But then Jesus shares one more story – this one not about sheep or coins, but people – two sons, two brothers. We start with the younger brother. He comes to his father and says he wants his share of his inheritance, that which would normally belong to the son after his father’s death. His father asks no questions, but agrees, and the younger son takes him money and all he has and leaves for greener pastures in far off lands. But soon he squanders his money in dissolute living. He’s out of money, and living in a place where famine has struck. He has run out of options. And, we read, “he began to be in need.” So he hires himself out and ands up working in the fields feeding pigs. He’s so hungry that even eating the pig food would seem good to him, but no one gives him anything. Finally, he thinks to himself that even his father’s slaves have it better than he does. Perhaps if he explains his hunger, his predicament to his father, his father will let him at least become like one of his slaves. So he sets off for home, ready to say, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.”
This younger son was really in bad shape. Taking a job working with pigs would have been about the most ‘unclean’, unlikely position for a young Jewish man to take. But he does what he feels he has to do to get by. Still, for a while he’s missing out on the decision that would make the most sense of all – the decision to admit how badly he’s screwed up, and head back home. We see the moment of decision in the passage – we read, “but when he came to himself” – that’s the critical moment, the moment when he’s willing to call his situation for what it is. He’s made a mess of his life, and he needs help from someone who cares about him to get back on track.
I don’t know all of the details of your life journeys, but I’m willing to bet that all of us have messed up the good things we’ve been given at one time or another. Maybe we haven’t ended up working with the pigs, but I’m sure each of us has experienced our share of squandering what God has given us. I’ve shared with some of you before the hard time I have in starting a sermon over when I’ve got part of it done already and I suddenly realize it just isn’t going anywhere. Sometimes it just happens though. I’ll get one or two pages into my message and realize it just isn’t working. Sometimes I try to keep going and get where I need to be from the mess I’ve made, but usually, that’s a mistake. The only way to fix things is to just delete what I have and start over, no matter how discouraging it feels to have to begin again. To put it another way – just this last week when I was traveling to DC for my continuing ed. event, everything was going smoothly until I was about five minutes from the hotel. Somehow, I kept ending up at the Pentagon parking lot, and I knew that was not where I wanted to be! I tried to correct my error there, and work my way over to the hotel, which I could actually see from the Pentagon, but in the end, the only way I could make it was to go back to a point where I knew where I was and start again.
The prodigal son finally realized that he’d lost everything he’d been given, and the only way to get anything back in his life was by admitting his failure and going home to start again. That critical moment – that time when we finally come back to ourselves and back to God – is the moment that matters more than all the bad decisions we’ve made leading up to that moment. Because when we can finally admit how lost we are is the first time God can give us some direction.
Let us stand and sing:
Part 2 – The Older Brother
I always sympathize most easily with the older brother in this parable. I’ll admit that I’ve never really connected with the younger brother in the story. I know a lot of people have times in their lives where they walk away from God and the church and everything related, or just times when they are on the wrong path, wandering, lost in life. But I have to tell you that I’ve always been an obedient child – a bit of a goody-two-shoes even – (shocking, I know!) – and while I watched others struggle with things, with faith, with God, my faith journey has been a bit more consistent. Sure, I’ve had up and down times, but my relationship with God has been more or less steady. So when it comes to this parable, in which the younger son stars, I really feel for the older brother. He’d been obedient! He’d taken care of the inheritance he’d been given, and stayed with his father and worked with him. And what does he get for it?
Well, he’s not too happy when little brother returns home to a party thrown in his honor. He maturely refuses to go into the party, and when his father comes out to him, he confronts him in anger. “Listen!” he yells, “for all these years I’ve been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed.” He accuses his father of not giving him anything, any affirmations for his good behavior, his faithful service. “When this son of yours came back,” he says, “who has devoured your property,” you threw him a party! The older brother doesn’t even mention the fact the returning prodigal is his brother – he just calls him “this son of yours” as if he has nothing to do with his brother, no relationship with him, and certainly no joy at seeing him safely home. Is he justified in his response? Is his father’s treatment of him and his brother fair?
Remember I said this parable is one of three about things that are lost. The first two are ones that don’t cause much controversy, though. A sheep is lost, not the sheep’s fault, and we’re happy for the shepherd when he finds the sheep and returns it to safety. A coin is lost, certainly not the coin’s fault, and we’re happy for the woman when she finds her lost coin. But the third – well, the third involves human beings with free will, human beings who can make choices, human beings who know right from wrong. The younger son is lost, not through happenstance, but through choice, through is will, his bad decisions, his squandering actions. And yet, where are the consequences? Are we happy that he’s found, or that he returns? Maybe. But I can easily relate to the older son, how can’t help but be upset that his brother’s had things so easy when he’s not gotten similar rewards for his behavior which has always been good.
But here is where the problem is. As human-being, we are by nature relational. We’re created to be in relationship with one another – we don’t exist just as single individuals. We exist in community. But we seem stuck in living not just in relationship with one another, but in comparison with one another. We don’t know how to measure our own successes and failures unless we are comparing them to how other people are doing. A student can feel good about getting a B grade on a paper, but only until she finds out that her friend got an A. And then the B doesn’t feel good anymore. And a person can be doing what he knows is wrong – but he feels OK with it, because he knows what he’s doing isn’t as wrong as what the other guy is doing. It’s all relative for us – how we feel depends on how we’re doing compared to everyone else. And unfortunately, like the older brother, we seem to apply this mentality to our relationship with God too. God’s free gift of grace is offered to each one of us, without price. But when we accept the gift, we get wrapped up in whether or not the same gift has been offered to our neighbors, and whether or not our neighbors deserve it as much as we do.
The older son has a great life offered to him. He, like his younger brother, gets his inheritance early, and he makes wise choices. While his brother ends up starving and working with pigs, begging for food, destitute, he is safe at home, surrounded by friends and family who love him. And yet, because his brother gets a welcome home party, he feels like he has gotten nothing when he compares himself to his brother. What a shame, that he ignores the years of good living that he has had, all because he thinks someone else is getting a better deal. It is so easy for us to fall into the trap of accepting God’s love, only to check over our shoulders to see who else is getting what we’ve got. But God’s grace is God’s grace, for one and for all. I give thanks that God’s love for me isn’t contingent on whether I’m doing better or worse than anyone else, because when I think of people who so selflessly give of themselves in God’s service, I’d hate to think comparison between us had anything to God’s love for me. Each of us is given our inheritance from God, a precious gift, just for us, and each of us has to choose how to use it on our own, based only on how we want to respond to God’s love for us, not on anything or anyone else. How will you respond?
Let us stand and sing:
Part 3 – The Parent
I was reminiscing with my mother the other day about the beginning of my college career at Ohio Wesleyan. The summer between high-school and college was a great time for me, except for the looming cloud hanging over my head – going to Ohio at the end of the summer – far away from anyone I knew, far away from home. I ended up at Ohio Wesleyan not by desire so much as chance and lack of other schools that I was interested in, and I was dreading going. But all summer long my mother had been encouraging me, telling me I would love college, that I would be involved in so many things, that I would have a great time. All summer long she would try to change my attitude whenever I complained about not wanting to go away. Finally, the time came, and she drove me out to Ohio to attend the student/parent orientation with me. And finally, the parent session was over, and it was time for her to leave. I still vividly remember the scene, with many tears shed, and finally, Mom caving in, saying, “Ok, you can come home! You can go to the community college. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.” Of course, as soon as she said that, I knew I had to stay, and I knew I had to be strong enough to stay. But I knew I could stay because I also knew that I could go home if I needed to.
And my mother did know that I should stay. She knew it would be best for me. But she couldn’t help but let that last hope out. My mother is really never happier than when her kids are all at home. Whenever she gets all four of us in her house at the same time, she has this look of utter contentment on her face, and I know that for her at that moment, life is perfect.
If this is my mother’s human love for her children, I can begin to imagine and understand what God’s love is for us. I am convinced – the scriptures testify to the fact – and Jesus tried to tell us again and again in his teaching – that God is never so happy as when we are at home. God gives us so many gifts – not only unconditional love, but also gifts and graces that make us who we are. We are each given inheritances, gifts that we use to shape our lives with our time on earth. And we are given the gift of free will, of choice, the ability to determine what we will do with all that God has given us. God watches us nurture or squander what we’ve been given, each in our turn. But whatever course we choose, God’s love for us remains steadfast.
When the younger son returns home, his father sees him while he still far off. His father has been watching and waiting for him, and on seeing him his first response is not judgment, but compassion. He runs to his son, embraces him, and expresses such joy at finding him. The prodigal begins with his explanations and excuses, hoping to convince his father to accept him home. And maybe later the father will want hear these stories, and hear what has happened in his years away from home. But the father doesn’t need the explanations as a condition for his love and forgiveness. He doesn’t ask questions. He just celebrates that his son who was lost has been found. And he tries to remind his older son that he has had his love all along.
This story is about two sons, both loved by their father. And this story is about you and me, loved by God. And this story is about the people in the pews and the people outside these walls, both groups loved by God. Whether we’ve wandered far off, and have lost our way, or whether we’ve stayed on course, but have lost heart, God is waiting to welcome us home.
Let us be together in a time of prayer: