Prodigal, a sermon from Sunday, 14 March 2010

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” So he 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 Prodigal Son.  We’ve heard this parable many times throughout our lives.  And we’ve heard it called “the Prodigal Son” just as many times at least.  I know I have.  And it took me until this past week to realize I had no idea what the word “prodigal” means.

So, of course, I had to look it up in a dictionary.  And according to the dictionary on my computer prodigal means: spending money or resources freely and recklessly; wastefully extravagant and having or giving something on a lavish scale.  So it refers not, as I once thought, to the returningness of the younger son, but to the fact that he goes off and spends away his inheritance.  In many ways, the father of this tale is as prodigal if not more so than his wayward younger son.  But that’s getting ahead of our story.  First let’s look more closely at this parable.

We have a family made up of a father and two sons.  No mention is made of other siblings or a mother in this case.  So we deal with this triad at face value.  In the culture in which Jesus told this tale, the oldest son automatically inherited the lion’s share of property, perhaps up to two-thirds of it.

This younger son, not willing to wait for the death of his father for his inheritance, asks for his share early.  That in and of itself is of course unusual, unusual enough for Jesus’ original hearers to sit up and take notice and, if their attention had been drifting, to pull them back into the story.  You just don’t do such things, now do you?  Ask for your inheritance early?  It’s just not done.

But he does it, presaging perhaps his untoward behavior later, and the father acquiesces.  Whatever percentage of the property the younger son is due, he gets and off he goes whereupon he takes part in that untoward behavior I just mentioned.  And he spends down his inheritance until there is none left.

And that’s when things go from bad to worse--a famine hits this foreign land where the young man has landed himself.  He’s able to get a job feeding pigs--pigs of all things. To a Jewish audience, there couldn’t be anything worse.  He’s hit rock bottom in other words.  And he’s so destitute he’d gladly eat what he’s giving to the pigs.

That’s when repentance comes into the story.  Now whether it’s a repentance of heart or stomach, as one commentator says, we’ll never know.  What drove him to repentance and whether it was truly a change of heart, we just can’t tell.  All Jesus said was that he repented, and in fact rehearsed his speech before his father.  In fact, it’s that speech rehearsal that increases our suspicion about the depth of the repentance, isn’t it?  Instead of returning home and spilling his heart out, he practices the speech until he gets it right.  I’m a little leery, frankly.

But be that as it may, the son returns, having prodigaled himself out of all that he owned.  He returns penniless and destitute, uncertain of the reception he’ll get.  He could get laughed out of town leaving him with few other choices.  I sincerely doubt that though that he could have envisioned the reception he did get.  His father comes out to greet him; no, he RUNS out to meet him, something a man of that social standing and age would never do in that day and time.  He gets him out of the rags he’s wearing and gives him a new coat; not just a new coat, but the finest robe in the house.  Father orders a party, a gala feast to celebrate the return of this wayward son.  Talk about prodigal; this parable could just as easily become known as the Prodigal Father.  The words from that definition come back to our minds here:  freely, recklessly, extravagant, lavish.  The Father, in his joy, goes all out to welcome home his second son.

And that’s when things get good: the most interesting character in this drama then enters the scene--the older brother.  He adds intrigue and conflict.  We can see him standing outside the house, with all the festivities going on inside, pouting and grimacing better than any petulant child could ever do.  The older brother is, simply stated, put out. 

And he’s not really peeved about his brother’s return.  No, not really.  Fred Craddock, famed Disciples preacher, puts it best: "It is that party which is so offensive. The older brother has a point: of course, let the penitent come home. Both Judaism and Christianity provide for the return of sinners, but to bread and water, not fatted calf; to sackcloth, not a new robe; to ashes, not jewelry; to kneeling, not dancing; to tears, not merriment".  (as found at http://www.ucc.org/worship/samuel/march-14-2010.html) It’s that party that rattles the older brother’s cage.

Father of course steps in and explains away his prodigality: that which was lost is now found.  In fact it’s hard to miss that point if you read the two parables directly before this tale.  They’re both about lost items and great celebrations when they are found.  This story is just a further exposition on that theme.

So where does that leave us?  Just because the inheritance laws and social mores of Jesus’ time are vastly different from ours does not mean we should automatically discount this story.  Because, if we think about this parable closely, we might get a bit uncomfortable.  I know I do.  Because of all the characters in that tale, the one who is most like me is the older brother.

Think about it--we’re the good ones.  We’ve stayed in the church as it has shrunk and changed.  We’ve given time and money and talents and countless other gifts to the church.  We expect something back from it of course; a goat to share with our friends for instance would be nice, wouldn’t it?  But then we hear that God’s grace is for everyone….everyone, can you imagine?  God’s best stuff, God’s grace, is given freely to one and all.  All that hard work of ours isn’t going to mean a thing.  Not even a goat.

And so the choice is ours.  We can stand outside pouting, in our petulant, childish ways or we can go in and take part in the feast, rejoicing in the return of a lost one, for whom the party is put on.   We can worry and upset ourselves about whether our brother’s repentance is sincere or not or we can join our father and all the others who are celebrating.  The sincerity of his repentance isn’t our problem--it’s already been taken care of.

This is not a parable about watching our backs or being on our guards; it is a parable about profligate giving.  It is about being prodigal--giving in joyous celebration.  Go in and join the party!