Rev. Mandy Sloan Flemming
Laguna Beach United Methodist Church
Laguna Beach United Methodist Church
Luke 15:1-3, 11-32
Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to
listen to him. 2And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and
saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” 3So he
told them this parable:
11Then Jesus said, “There was a man who had two
sons. 12The 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. 13A 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. 14When he had spent everything, a severe famine
took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. 15So
he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent
him to his fields to feed the pigs. 16He would gladly have filled
himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. 17But
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! 18I will
get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned
against heaven and before you; 19I am no longer worthy to be called
your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.”’ 20So 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. 21Then
the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am
no longer worthy to be called your son.’ 22But 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. 23And get the fatted
calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; 24for this son of
mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to
celebrate. 25“Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came
and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. 26He called
one of the slaves and asked what was going on. 27He replied, ‘Your
brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has
got him back safe and sound.’ 28Then he became angry and refused to
go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. 29But 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. 30But
when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with
prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’ 31Then the father
said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. 32But
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.’”
One: This is the Word of God, for us, the people of God.
ALL: Thanks be to God.
“There
was a man who had two sons.” If you have spent any amount of time in or near a
church, it is likely that you know how this story goes. It is one of the most
recognized stories from the Bible, and one of the most perplexing. Right away, we are invited to hear about these
three characters and are welcomed into their world, their story. There is a
father, who is mysteriously singular in his parenting tasks. There are two
sons, brothers, who are different in every way. The older son is responsible,
frugal, and loyal. The younger son is selfish, short-sighted, and reckless. Of
course, you know the end of the story. The younger boy asks for his share of
the inheritance, and leaves the farm, spending his money on prostitutes and
gambling. He loses everything and realizes that the servants at his father’s
house have a better life than he. So he returns, pitiful speech prepared, and
is greeted not with judgment but with relief. His father welcomes him home,
prepares the fatted calf and they feast. Meanwhile, the older son has become
furious over the turn of events. But, the father forgives his brother,
nonetheless.
If
I asked you to pick a character in the story with whom you most closely
identify, you wouldn’t have much trouble deciding. Either you love the younger
son – the one who is welcomed home – or you identify with the older, loyal son.
It is rare that we find ourselves identifying with the father figure. He’s a
mystery – why did he give the son his inheritance, when this is tantamount to
the younger son saying, “You’re worth more to me dead than alive, and I want my
share.” And why, even if he is tremendously relieved, did he welcome the
younger son home with such reckless abandon? No consequences? No stern lectures
about how things are going to be from now on?
I have always identified most closely with the older brother. He is the responsible one who never rocks the boat. He does what is expected. He stays close to home. He is frugal and wise and completely faithful to his father. He is begrudging of his younger brother and downright hateful upon his return. I cannot say that I blame him. As an only child, I always craved siblings, but this story caught me off guard. It seems as though even siblings aren’t exactly best friends. Or, frankly, the secret to a healthy social life. They can highlight everything you strive not to be, embody the characteristics you pride yourself most in not displaying, and somehow still manage to endear the affection of your parents. Siblings are, in short, the worst. Or, at least, this one is. My sympathies have always been aligned with the older brother, the loyal and faithful one who doesn’t even get a goat with which to celebrate with his friends.
I have always identified most closely with the older brother. He is the responsible one who never rocks the boat. He does what is expected. He stays close to home. He is frugal and wise and completely faithful to his father. He is begrudging of his younger brother and downright hateful upon his return. I cannot say that I blame him. As an only child, I always craved siblings, but this story caught me off guard. It seems as though even siblings aren’t exactly best friends. Or, frankly, the secret to a healthy social life. They can highlight everything you strive not to be, embody the characteristics you pride yourself most in not displaying, and somehow still manage to endear the affection of your parents. Siblings are, in short, the worst. Or, at least, this one is. My sympathies have always been aligned with the older brother, the loyal and faithful one who doesn’t even get a goat with which to celebrate with his friends.
But,
if I’m being fair, what would he celebrate? It seems as though he’s unmarried,
so there are no progeny coming his way. Would he delight in a fine day in the
fields? A particularly beautiful sunset? The cost of living a very safe and
responsible lifestyle is that it is without drama. It has probably never
occurred to him to ask for a goat, which it seems likely his father would have
happily given him. Rather, he is content to feast on his dinner each night,
just like he’s always done. Perhaps he took too much joy in the fact that there
was more meat for him once his brother left. Perhaps he noticed the subtle ways
in which life was better for him, more plentiful. His father spent nights
wondering about his lost son, and this child rejoiced when he got seconds on
dessert. No man is without sin.
The younger brother is certainly a character. He will be remembered through the ages as the “Prodigal Son.” Prodigal, in case you’re curious, simply means “one who spends money in a recklessly extravagant way.” I’ve always assumed there was a redemptive undertone to this title – the one who was lost, and then was found, but this is not the case. He is marked for all of time with the title of Spendthrift. I have a hard time associating with this character, because I find him so distastefully unlike me. He’s arrogant, rude, and cares only of his own way in the world. He is the one who approaches his father and asks for his share of the property. To him, it has no value except for what it can give him. This child has likely not known hardship. He has grown up comfortably, with little concern for day-to-day security. Because of this, it has no value to him. So, he gathers all he has and travels to a distant country, squandering everything in debauchery. Then, of course, things get hard. As it would happen, a famine comes upon the land in which he is living. He has nothing and there is little to spare, so he hires himself out to feed pigs.
The younger brother is certainly a character. He will be remembered through the ages as the “Prodigal Son.” Prodigal, in case you’re curious, simply means “one who spends money in a recklessly extravagant way.” I’ve always assumed there was a redemptive undertone to this title – the one who was lost, and then was found, but this is not the case. He is marked for all of time with the title of Spendthrift. I have a hard time associating with this character, because I find him so distastefully unlike me. He’s arrogant, rude, and cares only of his own way in the world. He is the one who approaches his father and asks for his share of the property. To him, it has no value except for what it can give him. This child has likely not known hardship. He has grown up comfortably, with little concern for day-to-day security. Because of this, it has no value to him. So, he gathers all he has and travels to a distant country, squandering everything in debauchery. Then, of course, things get hard. As it would happen, a famine comes upon the land in which he is living. He has nothing and there is little to spare, so he hires himself out to feed pigs.
As
an older-brother type, I take a certain pleasure in considering the foolish
man, who once was rich and arrogant, but finds himself feeding the pigs of a
stranger in a strange land. If you’ve ever seen “Avenue Q,” you know that this
is called “schadenfreude,”
or experiencing joy in the suffering of others. The lofty has been brought low!
The first is indeed last! Isn’t this the stuff of Gospel promise?
Except that Jesus tells us in the story that, “he came to himself.” The only way this could happen would be in a moment of desperation and clarity. Here he is, lost, alone in a strange land, far from those who have loved and cared for him and with no way to return because of his shame. There is another part of me who sees not an arrogant man, but a lost little boy. My heart warms a bit. Then he begins his resolution: ‘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.”’ Then, I don’t feel so sympathetic. Jesus frames this story as one of repentance and rejoicing over a lost sheep, as though this boy is repentant. But it’s not clear that he has repented of anything except poverty. It is only his own suffering that causes him to return to his father, not a change of heart.
Then we encounter the most perplexing part of the story. The part I have the most difficult time understanding. The father, seeing his lost son in the distance, runs to him. Jesus tells us that he was “filled with compassion,” or as I humbly recognize is the opposite of schadenfreude. He feels concern for the suffering of his son, and he runs to him, embraces him, and stops him halfway through his apology (just before the son can insist that his father treat him like one of his hired hands). He tells the servants to bring out a robe – the best one – and to give him a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet. He is falling all over himself to honor this arrogant and selfish boy.
On my best day, I can see this as a beautiful reunion between a heartbroken father and a lost son. I can recognize the sense of relief that comes with the reappearance of your precious boy, who left of his own accord with no clear intent to return. I can imagine my own overwhelming relief at the joy of seeing the face of my child whom I worried I would never see again. But, this father is more gracious than me. My embrace would be quickly followed by a lecture, a stern talking-to, finger wagging. But this father says, “Go 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!’
Except that Jesus tells us in the story that, “he came to himself.” The only way this could happen would be in a moment of desperation and clarity. Here he is, lost, alone in a strange land, far from those who have loved and cared for him and with no way to return because of his shame. There is another part of me who sees not an arrogant man, but a lost little boy. My heart warms a bit. Then he begins his resolution: ‘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.”’ Then, I don’t feel so sympathetic. Jesus frames this story as one of repentance and rejoicing over a lost sheep, as though this boy is repentant. But it’s not clear that he has repented of anything except poverty. It is only his own suffering that causes him to return to his father, not a change of heart.
Then we encounter the most perplexing part of the story. The part I have the most difficult time understanding. The father, seeing his lost son in the distance, runs to him. Jesus tells us that he was “filled with compassion,” or as I humbly recognize is the opposite of schadenfreude. He feels concern for the suffering of his son, and he runs to him, embraces him, and stops him halfway through his apology (just before the son can insist that his father treat him like one of his hired hands). He tells the servants to bring out a robe – the best one – and to give him a ring for his finger and sandals for his feet. He is falling all over himself to honor this arrogant and selfish boy.
On my best day, I can see this as a beautiful reunion between a heartbroken father and a lost son. I can recognize the sense of relief that comes with the reappearance of your precious boy, who left of his own accord with no clear intent to return. I can imagine my own overwhelming relief at the joy of seeing the face of my child whom I worried I would never see again. But, this father is more gracious than me. My embrace would be quickly followed by a lecture, a stern talking-to, finger wagging. But this father says, “Go 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!’
Then
comes the part of the story that we’re all waiting for. The older son 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.’ This is when it gets
good, right? The older brother becomes angry and refuses to go see his sibling
and 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.’”
I
share the older son’s fury. This isn’t fair. You and I both know that life
isn’t fair, but this seems to highlight the absolute injustice of the world. I
stay, and I get nothing, but he squanders everything and gets a party? Where is
my party?! But the father reminds his oldest boy what he most needs to
hear, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.” Including
this spendthrift brother, this burden of loss, this terrible anxiety that is
now relieved. What they share is more than property or even the bond of family.
What they share is the same emotional responsibility for the lost son, and all
that entails.
But this story isn’t about me. And it’s not about the sons. It’s about the father. Jesus tells this story to the grumbling Pharisees because they, like me, are more concerned with the disreputable company Jesus is keeping rather than the awareness of their need for grace and acceptance. If we are to look for ourselves in this story, we cannot be found through the righteous indignation of the older son. We cannot be found in the debauchery of the younger son. We cannot be found in the sympathy of the father. No, we can only be found as the child who receives grace when we deserve none. The only way for us to comprehend this story is for us to recognize ourselves in the relief of forgiveness, even when we don’t ask for it properly.
But this story isn’t about me. And it’s not about the sons. It’s about the father. Jesus tells this story to the grumbling Pharisees because they, like me, are more concerned with the disreputable company Jesus is keeping rather than the awareness of their need for grace and acceptance. If we are to look for ourselves in this story, we cannot be found through the righteous indignation of the older son. We cannot be found in the debauchery of the younger son. We cannot be found in the sympathy of the father. No, we can only be found as the child who receives grace when we deserve none. The only way for us to comprehend this story is for us to recognize ourselves in the relief of forgiveness, even when we don’t ask for it properly.
That’s
because this isn’t just a story about us, and our tendencies. It’s a story
about God. Our perspective must shift to comprehend what Jesus is teaching:
grace above legality, compassion over shadenfreude, forgiveness without a
lecture. We are all homeless prodigals, and all of us deserve less than
what God gives. This is not a great comeback story. It’s not the story of a boy
pulling himself up by his bootstraps or loyalty being rewarded. It’s not the
prodigal’s poor and misguided apology that forces his father to set the banquet
table any more than our remorse encourages God to prepare the table for us,
THIS table. We cannot throw our own party. The good news is that we don’t have
to. It’s already been done for us. All we need to do is show up and celebrate
with the one who loves us most.
In the name of the Father, the Son
and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Above is the call to prayer, "Sweet, Sweet Spirit," led by Lauren Francis, Kristen Howerton and Mandy Flemming.
