"A man who had two sons"-Sermon for Lent 4, Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32
Like most great fiction, a parable is a story seeking after meaning. The story itself may indeed be fiction…perhaps rooted in human experience…but not a strict retelling of a set of facts to describe a historical event. Yet, the meaning, which the story seeks to unveil or point us to, can be as true and as timeless as anything can truly be. And, today, set before us is one of Jesus’ most familiar and often recounted parables…what is often called the Parable of the Prodigal Son or, perhaps more aptly, the Parable of the Loving Father. And, though it is indeed appropriate to hear or read this parable and decide who we are within it…who we most resemble…based on where we are at any particular point in our lives…today I want to think together about the two brothers in particular…the prodigal and the older son full of resentment…and how we might be expressions of and can make meaning for our own lives from both of their stories, which I believe is, in part, Jesus’ intention in sharing with us this timeless story that is full of meaning and as true as anything can truly be.
So, beginning with the prodigal son, an honest assessment of the parable and how it speaks to my own life, leads me to say I know something of what it is to be the prodigal. Though I have not required or demanded some potential future inheritance from my parents and then squandered it in dissolute living in some land of waste…that is, indeed, pretty intense…I have taken advantage of my parent’s graciousness and generosity. I have taken it for granted that they would clean up the messes I made, some not small, as I was inching toward adulthood. As I grew up and on more than one occasion, I did better deal them…choosing friend time over already thoughtfully scheduled family time. And, as an adult, I have put my own needs before those of my wife and children’s. If not in cataclysmic ways, I have betrayed trust. I have been an unavailable friend. I have hurt. I have been wasteful. I have sinned against God and my neighbor. I am good…but I have chosen bad. And each and every time, I have suffered the natural consequences that always follow. Thus, metaphorically speaking, I know something of what it feels like to feed upon the stomach-turning slop…the leftovers that were all that remained following my own poor choices and hurtful behavior.
These are hard things to admit out loud, and I assure you that I am who you perceive me to be as your pastor and friend. But, Jesus’ parable compels us, requires us, again, to find ourselves, and honestly so, in each of the sons found in his parable…for there is meaning to be discovered here and truth to found and, friends, the truth can set us free. Thus, again, an honest assessment of Jesus’ parable and, more so, of my life in its totality, compels me to confess that, again, I know something of what it is to be the prodigal. And, not just out of self-justification or a desire to normalize my own mistakes and shortcomings, I think we all do to some extent. We all know something of what it means to be the prodigal.
And, in that recognition, there is hope to be found. For, I have not yet fully described the totality of the prodigal’s journey. For, in his honest assessment of where his own choices have led him, take him to a life-altering decision point. Will he choose to just die in in the muck and mud…to become lost forever in his present darkness…to give up…to believe that he is beyond the point of redemption and accept his fate…getting just what he deserves. Or…or, is there just enough of hope’s light left to lead him to a different sort of choice. And, of course, knowing the story well, we know that a desire for a different sort of future remains…that his heart is stirred…and he chooses the chance for reconciliation…the possibility of reconnection…a different sort of future found in forgiveness. And, a cynical, but understandable, view of this choice might be simply that the prodigal wants out of the pig sty…just wants a slightly more bearable life for himself…a life like the ones lived by his father’s own servants. But, I, for one, don’t think so. For some it does take losing it all to fully realize the magnitude of what was, indeed, lost. I know this very personally from walking alongside my own father as he fought the disease of addiction and all he lost therein.
And, I think what the prodigal finds after losing it all, wallowing in the muck and the mud…in the loneliness of utter disconnection from his roots…in the heartbreaking sorrow found in the realization of the pain he has caused to his loved ones, most especially his father, what he finds is a genuine desire to make amends…to just begin to reconstitute what was, from the ashes left behind in the wake of his destruction…a desire to return to the heart space that is his families’ love. And, he knows this doesn’t just mean everything will go back to the way it was. He knows trust is hard won and easily lost. And, still, he picks himself up off the ground and begins the journey home, which I am sure he rethought like a thousand times along the way, never anticipating the sort of homecoming that awaited him. For, as Jesus tells us, “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”, and said, “Let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!” The prodigal chose well, and, indeed, there is a hopeful future to be found for him and those he loves in genuine sorrow, a genuine desire to return home and make amends, and the grace-filled forgiveness of his father.
Now, I also know something of what it is to be the resentful older son. I have known jealousy. I have felt like I have worked harder than those who have received more than me. I have felt, not always but at particular times, that my efforts have gone unrecognized. I have felt undue burdens. I have felt that I was unfairly held back rather than properly appreciated or elevated…and I have experienced the resentment that follows all the above. And, perhaps the greatest mistake made by the older brother, I have walked blindly through life not appreciating all I do have…all the immeasurable blessings that make up my own precious life. It is easy to ruminate on what we don’t have enough of…time, money, creativity, popularity. Yet, it takes great intention to, instead, revel in the blessings of the present moment…all the goodness and grace that suffuse our life…a roof over our heads, food on the table, companions for the journey. It is easy to compare ourselves to others…I know I have…and it only leads to looking down on those we perceive as less than and resentful of those who we perceive as greater than…those we perceive as getting what we believe we actually deserve. And, resentment, which literally means to feel again, is always comparison’s constant companion. But, here’s the thing, resentment always hurts one person more than the other, and it is not the one who we resent…it is us. Our resentment chains us to the past and fills us with bitterness and anger. St. Augustine goes as far to write, “Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.”
Again, I will say these are hard things to admit out loud, and I assure you that I am who you perceive me to be as your pastor and friend. But, Jesus’ parable compels us, requires us, to find ourselves, and honestly so, in each of the sons found in his parable…for there is meaning to be discovered here and truth to found and, again, the truth can set us free. Thus, an honest assessment of Jesus’ parable and, more so, of my life in its totality, compels me to confess that I know something of what it is to be the older resentful brother. And, again, not just out of self-justification or a desire to normalize my own mistakes and shortcomings, I think to some degree we all do.
Yet, hope remains, for this is not the end of the older brother’s story either. For, as he approaches his father’s house, which is his own home as well, and learns of his brother’s return, he refuses to go in and join the celebration…but, importantly, he does not leave either. And, a cynical, yet understandable, reading of his presence outside the party is simply that he wants to give both his brother and his father a piece of his mind, disrupting the celebration before leaving in protest. And, indeed, when his father comes to him he has something to get off his chest, “'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, again, Jesus does not say that he then made quick haste to leave. Instead, he listens to his father, who reminds him…likely with all the love and compassion that exists in his heart, “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.” And, I, for one, believe that something is stirring in the older brother…a love of his younger brother that has hurt him so very much. The healing will take time…deep-seeded resentment, especially when it comes from genuine hurt, is hard to let go of. And, in honesty, we don’t know if the older brother upon hearing his father’s pleading went into the party or not. I like to think so…but Jesus simply does not say. But the choice remains…so hope remains…and surely the father, who loves both of his sons from forever to forever, will be there with open arms to welcome him back into his home at the very moment he is ready…to be set free.
Whether today you are feeling like you need to seek forgiveness or let go of a resentment holding you in chains…or both…whether you feel like you are lost in the muck and mud of a string of poor choices from which there feels like there is no return…or feel a wound so deep inside that to forgive, to reconnect in a new and different way with the wounder is almost unimaginable…or both…the meaning of this parable is that the next step toward a different sort of future remains in your power. And, thus, the truth is…that the light of hope for the possibility of reconciliation, the chance for reconnection, the opportunity for a different sort of future found in forgiveness…remains…always remains.
And, like the father in the parable who goes to both sons, Jesus’ arms remain always open…to forgive and to heal…to set us free…and in doing so…provide us the supernatural imagination and power and courage to become something new ourselves…and to find again and reconnect with those we love and have lost. Those who were dead to us can come to life…and rejoicing and celebration rightfully follow. Amen.