The Prodigal Son
The Fourth Sunday of Lent
March 31, 2019
Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32
All the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”
So Jesus told them this parable:
“There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’ So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. But when he came to himself he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “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.”‘ So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe–the best one–and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate.
“Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.’ Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’ Then the father said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.'”
The Sermon
I’m not sure if I would be standing in front of you today, in this pulpit, or even in church, if it were not for Evelyn and Homer George. They were the people I sat next to in church for years when I was little. My father was the associate rector so I obviously could not sit with him. And I could not sit next to my mother because she stayed home with my brother who was a handful in church. He was what they used to call hyperkinetic – a now archaic term. So I would sit with the Georges. I’d sit right between Mr. and Mrs. George in the back right pew. And all through the service they would ply me with peppermint Tic-Tacs, help me negotiate through the service booklets that we had in the 1970s before they finalized the 1979 prayer book, and helped me find the hymns, and answered my endless questions of “how much longer is it to the next hymn”. It was a full time job sitting next to me in church. And this is what I remember – The Georges adored me, and I adored them. Those simple loving actions made me know there was a place for me in church quite separate from my parents. They affirmed my Christian faith in ways I could not even begin to describe. They were a blessing to me in innumerable ways.
Now on a Sunday when we have had this really hard lesson about the Prodigal Son it may seem strange for me to talk about my formative experience of church – but here is the common thread – blessings.
For the past couple of weeks I have been talking about Presiding Bishop Michael Curry’s call for us to Live in the Way of Love in my sermons – including those 7 aspects of Turn, Learn, Worship, Pray, Bless, Go and Rest. Today is about bless. Bless is defined on the Way of Love website as the following: bless is when you share of yourself, and your faith freely as you have received. It is about being empowered by the Sprit to bless everyone we meet, practicing generosity and compassion, and proclaiming the Good News of God in Christ with hopeful words and selfless actions. We share our stories of blessing and invite others [in]to the Way of Love.[1]
So why is the prodigal son about blessing? Isn’t it about, say, repentance? No, the story is not about repentance – have you ever noticed that the Prodigal Son does not actually apologize to his father until after the father has welcomed him home? Maybe it’s about forgiveness? Well, it is not about forgiveness because the Father never says to the son – you are forgiven.
But what the father does is he blesses both his sons. He tells them what they both need to hear.
The prodigal son is showered by his father’s joy and celebration for his return. The father says ‘Quickly, bring out a robe–the best one–and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ His father is so happy that the son is home. As a mother, I wonder why this younger son left in the first place. Was it a sense of adventure? Was it that second child pushing the envelope? And I also think about the father who agreed to this ludicrous proposal of his son. Did the father feel like a fool for giving his son so much more money than he could handle at such a young age? We don’t know. But what we do know is the younger son blew it, and we know he was hungry, and his only way out besides death was coming home. And the father welcomed him home. Notice, he did not say to the prodigal son, here’s another 100,000 denarii and a Platinum Israeli Express Card. He welcomed him home. He blessed his son who lived beyond his means in very foolish ways and welcomed him home.
And that older brother, he is so angry with his father. Who can blame him? If I were the older son I’d be furious. After all, not only is he left holding down the fort, but also no one thinks about telling him about the events that had just transpired. He is last to know about his brother and the party – and we know how horrible it feels to be left out of a conversation or decision that we thought we should have been a part of. He is incensed as many of us would be. But his father says to him – ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.'” His father loves him, he appreciates him, recognizes his loyalty, and he still promises him “all that is mine is yours”. He does not say, “now that your brother is back, we’re going to have split things 50-50 again between you two.” No, all, everything, the whole fortune that the father possesses is for the older son’s taking, eventually.
Amy-Jill Levine, an Orthodox Jewish New Testament Scholar and Professor at Vanderbilt says this about the Story of the Prodigal Son:
In its original context, the parable of the Prodigal Son would not have been heard as a story of repentance or forgiveness, a story of works righteousness and grace, or a story of Jewish xenophobia (fear of foreigners) and Christian universalism (i.e. everyone is saved). Instead, the parable’s messages of finding the lost, of reclaiming children, of reassessing the meaning of family offer not only good news, but better news.[2]
And so as I thought about this lesson, it made me remember with gratitude all those people, like Mr. and Mrs. Homer George, who have blessed me with kindness that I may or may not have deserved. And it made me think about all those people out in our world who for one reason or another feels lost, and just need to be found. And I think about how this story challenges us to be deeply aware of those who feel disconnected, faraway and alone and to reach out blessing those very people with a word of encouragement, act of love or invitation of belonging.
I invite you this week to pay attention to the people in your life who might feel lost. Who in your life might appreciate a phone call, a card, a cup of coffee, a visit and try and do that. Also, who in your life might benefit from being a member of this community – who is it that might need a community that is united in love, prayer, and the sharing of the Good News of Jesus? We may have right here, in this church, the very blessing that someone so desperately needs.
But what if we feel lost? What if we feel disconnected and isolated? If this is you, because honestly, we all feel lost, lonely and disconnected from time to time, the advice is the same. Reach out. Let someone know. Share how you’re feeling. And what you may find is that the person you reach out to might just say “I thought it was just me. You too?” Reach out.
Amen
[1] www.episcopalchurch.org/way-of-love
[2] www.christiancentury.org/article/2014-08/parable-and-its-baggage
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