16the Sabbath in Pentecost

Sept 14/16, 2007

Victor H. Nixon

RECONCILATION WITH ONESELF

Luke 15:11-32

+

The reason the Parable of the Prodigal Son is called that is beyond me. Jesus begins by saying, "There was a man who had two sons." So we know right away that the parable is misnamed. Religious tradition is probably the answer—and we all know how difficult that is to change.

The parable is one of a trilogy of Jesus’ parables in the 15^th chapter of Luke that he told to a crowd of "tax collectors and sinners" while the Pharisees and scribes—religious folk—grumbled about Jesus welcoming and eating with sinners. Jesus responds by telling three stories: the first about a shepherd who leaves the flock to fend for themselves while he goes after a stray; the second about a woman who cleans the whole house to find a single coin; and the third about a compassionate father who loses two sons. All three parables address the concern that Jesus is condoning sin by the company he keeps and all three reply that God is more interested in celebrating that the lost were found than in worrying about how they got there.

In the parable for today the younger boy asked for his share of one-third of his father’s estate, a disposition allowed under the law which also provided that older sons would receive two-thirds of the estate. So, the father divided his property between them. The older kid remained home while the youngster took off to a far country and proceeded to blow his inheritance in dissolute living. He was without resources during a famine and ended up as a hired hand feeding pigs—which is about as close to Hell as you can get for an orthodox Jew. He was starving, and even the hog feed was beginning to look good, but nobody fed him. He was desperate.

Jesus said, "But when he came to himself . . ." (15:17a) It’s just a little phrase in the story, but a very telling one. "When he came to himself." Obviously, he had an awakening, a significant realization. One translation reads, "When he came to his senses"—a frank assessment that he was insane to continue this way of life when there is a better alternative. "When he came to himself"—a key phrase to understanding Jesus’ story.

It is also one of the keys to the story of our lives as well, when impulsive decisions and mistakes lead to disastrous results and we end up in desperate, painful and lonely circumstances where nobody seems to care and we are faced with life’s harsh realities.

John Wesley comments about the wayward son: "For till then he was beside himself, as all [people] are, so long as they are without God . . . ." I suggest to you that when he came to himself there in the far country the younger song realized that he had separated himself from his true identity as his father’s child and realized where home really was. And I suggest to you that this is a basic problem of humanity: we tend to forget who we are and whose we are, and foolishly distance ourselves from our Creator.

That is what this story is about. It’s about when we take our God-given inheritance, leave God and forget God, and exhaust our personal resources in the realities of the world. It’s about coming to our senses, waking up and realizing that we need to turn to God, turn to love and acceptance, turn to the place where we are always welcome at the table regardless of how far we’ve strayed or how long we’ve been away. It’s about remembering who you are.

So, when the younger boy came to himself, he decided to return home where, along with the hired hands, he would at least have a roof over his head and food in his belly. On the way he rehearsed his plea for mercy. "Father, I have sinned against you and heaven. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as a hired hand." To the prodigal’s credit, he recognized that what he had become was not who he was—and took steps to recover some semblance of his true identity. Repentance is the path to reconciliation with God and with one’s self.

But he never got the opportunity to make his confession and plea for mercy because when the loving father saw him coming at a distance he rushed out to embrace him, kiss him and forgive him before he could get a word out of his mouth.

While this is good news for the prodigals among us, it is also disturbing news, because forgiveness is one of those gifts of God that cuts both ways. We like forgiveness. We all need it, and when we get it, from God or from one another, we know what new life is all about. But forgiveness is about sin, wrongful attitudes, harmful action, falling short of the glory of God, that can involve everything from something as simple as failing to be kind to someone or as complex as killing someone. Whatever the infraction, few us would deny the need for and possibility of forgiveness, but most of us would insist on penance, on accountability and payment for the wrong that has been done. And here Jesus tells us this story about instant forgiveness with no strings attached, and we can’t miss the point: God’s love is both extravagant and offensive.

The truth is the prodigal came home to live off his brother’s inheritance after spending his own in loose living. No sooner did his father see him coming down the road than the elder brother’s fatted calf was killed and the celebration was on. There was no heart-to-heart talk with the old man, no extra assignments, no insistence on responsibilities, just a clean robe, a fine ring and a pair of new sandals. The father didn’t even wait for his elder son to get home from work before beginning the festivities. "For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!" Then the elder brother came in from the fields, heard the music and saw the dancing, and I’m just glad that I wasn’t the one who had to tell him what it was all about—aren’t you?

I can tell you from experience, older siblings frequently get the raw end of the deal. "I don’t care if he did hit you first, you’re bigger than he is and should know better!" In all likelihood, the older brother wasn’t angered by his younger brother’s return, or even by his father’s forgiveness, but by the celebration. Let the penitent come home, by all means, but let him or her come home to penance, not a party. Where is the moral instruction in that kind of welcome? What about facing the consequences of your actions? What about reaping what you sow? What kind of world would this be if we all made a practice of rewarding sinners while the God-fearing people are still breaking their backs out in the field?

I mean what do you have to do to get a little attention around here? The church thrives on ministries to the poor, the broken, the sick, the outcast, but what about those of us who are trying to hold our own? What about those of us who are burning our candles at both ends, trying to serve God and keep up with our other responsibilities too? What about those of us who work hard to keep our jobs and stay in our relationships and take care of our health and pay our dues, but never seem to get any credit for it, while the homeless and the addicted and the downtrodden get all the attention? What do you have to do to get a party around here? Do you have to go off and squander your inheritance before you can come home, be embraced and kissed, and assured that you belong?

"Listen!" the elder son protests, "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!"

God bless the elder son. God bless him, and God bless all of us who understand his rage, who have felt so excluded and whose hurt runs so deep that we have cut ourselves off from the very One whose love and acceptance we so desperately need.

Notice how the father deals with his elder son. He does not become angry, nor remind him to honor his father. He knows that he is in danger of losing another son. The younger one was lost to a life of recklessness, but he may lose the older one to an equally serious fate—a life of angry self-righteousness that could take him so far away from his father that he might as well be feeding pigs in a far country. He wants his father to love him as he deserves to be loved, because he has stayed put, and followed orders and done the right thing.

And his father does love him, but not for any of that, any more than he loves the younger brother for what he has done. He does not love either of his sons according to what they deserve. He just loves them because of who he is and the elder brother can’t stand it. He can’t stand a love that transcends right and wrong, a love that throws homecoming parties for prodigal sinners and expects the hard-working righteous to rejoice. And so he stands outside his father’s house and outside his father’s love, refusing his invitation to come inside.

"Son," the father says, "you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours." His love for one child does not preclude his love for the other. They are a family. They belong to one another. A part for one is a party for all.

"We had to celebrate and rejoice," the loving father says to his elder son, "because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found."

This is the elder brother’s invitation back into relationship not only with the loving father, but also with the wayward brother. It’s an invitation to recognize his own need for reconciliation. But the parable does not tell us how it all turned out. The story ends with the elder brother standing outside the house in the yard with his father, listening to the party going on inside.

Jesus leaves it that way, I believe, because it is up to each one of us to finish the story. It is up to you and me to decide whether we will stand out side all alone being right, or give up our rights and go inside to take our place at a table of reckless fools and righteous saints, brothers and sisters, united by our relationship to a loving God, who doesn’t love us because we deserve it, but because that’s what God does and because we desperately need it.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

+