March 31,
2019 * Fourth Sunday in Lent, Year C
Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32
There are
no parts of the Bible I enjoy greater than the parables of Christ. Not that they’re more important; I just
happen to enjoy them more. And when we
think of the parables, certainly a prominent few spring to mind: The Good Samaritan, The Rich Man and the
Beggar, The Sheep and the Goats…and today’s story from the Gospel, the parable
of The Prodigal Son.
To set the
stage for the telling of this parable, we find Jesus being judged and mocked by
the Pharisees and scribes, primarily because of the company Jesus is keeping...to
translate the Greek word directly, they were “grumbling”. Jesus was surrounded by the worst of the
worse: sinners and tax collectors. He even eats with these low-lifes, we are
told. This simply was unacceptable
behavior…this breaking bread with and essentially condoning the lifestyle of
these people who had been rejected for working for the enemy and living as “sinners”. There is popular criticism that the word “sinner”
in Luke’s gospel correlates with Gentile, a rejected people whom Jesus spent
most of his ministry with. Either way,
it doesn’t have a huge bearing on the parable’s framing.
We see
that there is a man, and he has two sons.
We don’t know about his wife, their mother, or if there were any sisters…we
just know there is this man with two sons.
One day, out of the blue, the younger son comes to his father and asks
for his inheritance, now, so he can hit the road for bigger and better things. What an unusual request: inheritances are received after the owner of
the property is deceased, no longer having use for it, and passes it on to
someone here. But this son is asking for
his early; now, while the father is still living. He’s asking his father to do without, deprive
himself of a third (the eldest son would have been entitled to a double portion
vs any other male offspring, and since there were 2 of them, 1/3 to the youngest
son and 2/3 to the eldest) and give it to him now. He’s ready to check out. So, that’s what the father did. He gave what still belonged to him to the
son. And true to his word, after taking
what the father had given him (a third of what the father needed to live and
survive), the youngest son hit the road.
Are you
forming opinions around who the father and the son might be, or who you
perceive them to be? Let’s go a little
further.
Jesus
continues to tell us more about this youngest son. He traveled to a distant country, and there
he squandered his property in dissolute living.
Matthew
Henry’s commentary looks at multiple theologies of the original Greek meanings;
the general consensus is, the father was a man of means. He was quite rich, so when he gives half of
his property to his youngest son, the son gets quite a sizable fortune. And he squandered it in dissolute
living. It seems without the father’s
guidance, the young guy went a little wild.
I think here the term “dissolute” or the original loosely translated as “riotous
living” is meant to evoke some imagination.
Growing
up, we called this the parable of Jerry Jones.
You see, Jerry Jones was a guy about 10 years older than me that went to
our church. Jerry was miserable living
in Lynchburg. He lothed country
life. He wanted nothing more than to get
as far away from the boonies and move to the heart of the largest metropolis he
could find. So when Jerry graduated high
school, his parents bought him a brand new car, a new wardrobe for college, he
had amassed a small fortune in graduation gifts…all of which he sold and did
exactly what this youngest son did; moved to a far and distant land. This land was called Las Vegas. I remember when Jerry would write his parents,
and they would report to everyone how well Jerry was doing…he was working at
one of the casinos, enjoying the good life.
And a few years later, Jerry showed back up in town. No one recognized him. His hair was long, unkempt, greying; he was
emaciated. Apparently he had blown through
his money in the first year doing things he dare not even speak of…and had
spent the last few years working horrible odd jobs and couch surfing. He was defeated…you could see it on his face,
hear it in his voice. His pride was
destroyed…he had failed.
The same
fate befell our younger son in today’s parable…we see after the money is gone,
this young man takes the absolute worst job in the whole world: feeding pigs.
Pigs are gross and stinky and eat garbage, but despite all of those
things, they were forbidden animals to Hebrew people. They avoided all association with pigs, at
all costs, but here is the man, once of means, now reduced to serving food to
pigs, and even coveting the food he is serving them. He is so hungry he wanted to sneak a bite or
two, and we see that no one helped this man out.
I imagine
when the money was flowing, so were the people.
It’s easy to find friends when things are great…even more so when they’ve
got a lot to gain from their association with you. But when the money, drinks, fun and fame are
over, so is there presence. So when this
young man finds himself in need, there is no one there to alleviate this
need. All of his “friends” have deserted
him, the pigs cared nothing about him, and we all know that employers of menial
labor usually aren’t overly generous.
So one
day, he had enough. He simply couldn’t
go on like this any longer. He remembers
his father, and his upbringing. He thinks
about the workers in his father’s employ, and how they had food to spare, and
here he is dying with hunger. Clinging
to his will to live, a decision is made – I’m going home. I’ll apologize to my dad, I’ll beg if I have
to. I could never ask him to accept me
back in as his son; when I asked for my inheritance, I essentially told him that
he was dead to me. I’ll simply ask for a
job. I’ll ask to be one of the hired
servants.
But his
father, when he saw him, ran to him and showered him with love. And we know that the father squelched the
talk of him working as a servant, and threw a party to celebrate the return of
his son, whom he loved.
Now the elder
son was out in the field working. He’s
doing the responsible, sensible thing.
The thing that was expected of him.
He was adulting, and he had been adulting the whole time the younger brother
was away partying his brains out. The
older brother hears music, and comes to investigate. One of the servants tells him that his
brother has come home and their father has butchered the fattened calf for the
feast (the best meat).
Can you
see in your head what happened next? I
can! EYE ROLL OF THE CENTURY. How do I know? Because if my personality is like any
character in the Bible, it’s this older brother (I’m a dead on Martha too, but
that’s for a different sermon). I always
have to do the grown up stuff, be the responsible one, make the decisions, keep
the peace, sacrifice for the sake of everyone else…. I’m sure this older brother had dreams of one
day getting out and exploring the world, of taking time from his labor to
immerse himself in the enjoyment of life, but he just couldn’t. He had responsibilities he couldn’t walk away
from. He wasn’t like his slacker younger
brother who just took everything he wanted and walked away from
everything.
So all of
the sudden, there was this massive, overstimulating wave of emotions: relief, anger, jealousy, confusion…. His brother was back…and their dad is happy
for it. So when the elder son wouldn’t
come in and celebrate his brother’s return, the dad went to plead with
him. The father’s joy is shattered by
the unwillingness of one brother to celebrate the safe return of the other. After all this time he thought his family
would reunite by the return of his youngest brother, only to have that return cause
the other son to distance himself. He
justifies his feelings (as we all try to do) by saying: all these years I have been faithful to you;
I have worked for you, I have stuck by your side, I have comforted you in your sadness,
I have done everything you have ever asked of me, but you gave me nothing. But let your other son return; you know, the
son who said you were dead to him and wanted his cut of your estate now, and
when you gave it to him, he blew every penny on bad living, and you kill the
best calf in the herd for him? My
friends and I couldn’t get even get a goat, but you give him the best
calf? Really dad? And you’re going to ask me to celebrate the
fact that you love him – a looser – more than me? Have I not done more to deserve more, and yet
you give me less?
He
responds you are always with me, and everything that is mine is yours. I celebrate because it’s a good thing that
your brother, who was essentially dead to us not being with us, is alive
again. He was lost, and now is
found.
There are
so many amazing things here. And with
each reading, each meditation, this parable reveals itself more deeply to us. This, to me, is a parable of
opportunity.
The
youngest brother manipulated the father to get his portion of his father’s
wealth early. The father had the
opportunity to say no, but chose to give in to the son’s request. The elder brother would have easily been able
to ask for the same, but we don’t see that he jumped at this opportunity. Upon failure, the opportunity to return home
was always available; just not seized until all other opportunities had
passed. The father had the opportunity
to reject the younger son, or comply with his request to simply enter him into
employ with the servants, but the father chose to look beyond all other things
and welcome the son back. His brother
had the opportunity to rejoice with the father in the return of his brother,
but chose to be bitter and salty about it.
Jesus had
the opportunity to join the ranks of the Pharisees and Scribes; his knowledge
of the texts and the law would have given him the upper hand, and the
opportunity to lead this elite group.
Instead, he seized the opportunity to dine with sinners, gentiles, tax
collectors…the dregs of society. The
worst of the worst.
Opportunities
abound; every day. Some days I’m the
younger brother…I fail to seize opportunities in moderation. I live life too big. I fail.
My pride is bigger than anything else in my life. I deprive others of opportunities. I stray and am too ashamed to come back. Some days I’m the older brother…taking the opportunities
in responsibility but instead of rejoicing in them, viewing them as a burden. Missing other opportunities for
reconciliation, choosing spite instead. Feeling
entitled due to my dedication. Some days
I’m the father…some days I’m able to look beyond all the things our culture would
have me embrace, to leave the past in the past, and seize the opportunities for
love, and caring, and forgiveness, continually seeking those who have strayed.
Opportunities
abound; do you see them? Are you
constantly looking, and searching? Or
are you fixated on the next great thing?
Or are you so burdened down with responsibility?
This
season of Lent we are invited to take a closer, deeper look at our choices; and
today, we focus on our opportunities. I
bring you this message in the name of God the Father, God the Son, and God the
Holy Spirit.
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