Opportunities abound

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.