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Sermon for 10 Mar 2013

I heard a story the other day about a certain aged Catholic priest had become deaf. In order for him to continue to fulfill his duties within the parish, his members would write out their sins on a piece of paper before going to confession. One day a parishioner, in somewhat of a hurry, slipped a piece of paper to the priest which read, “Milk, bread, Pepsi, a box of detergent and a pound of bananas.” The puzzled priest scanned the note, then passed it back to the parishioner. Confused at the return of the note, the parishioner looked at the note, then exclaimed with horror, “Oh, no! I’ve left my sins at the grocery store.”
In this season of Lent, the question for all Christians is where do we leave our sins? Where should we leave them and how can we be rid of our sins forever? The answer, of course, is through true repentance, which means, in essence, to “turn around; go home.” It’s the kind of repentance that we see represented by the prodigal son. He realized his sinful situation, listened to the leading of the Holy Spirit and turned around and went back home. Back to the one who could forgive his sin and restore the relationship.
In our gospel lesson for this morning, we have one of the most familiar parables of the New Testament. And when you think about it, Jesus’ parable of the Prodigal Son captures “the essence of the Christian faith.” It’s a story of repentance, forgiveness and grace. Central to this story we have the loving father and two brothers, the younger brother who is guilty of self-centeredness, greed, pride, riotous living and disrespect for his parents. On the other hand we have the older brother who is by no means innocent in this matter. He too is guilty of self-righteousness, resentment, anger and disrespect. The parable itself has the familiar beginning, “There was a man who had two sons.” So, from the beginning, we are introduced to these three important characters, or one could say, we’re introduced to ourselves at one time or another in our lives.
The first is, of course, the prodigal. He’s the younger boy. Adventurous. Rebellious. Determined to learn life’s lessons by making his own mistakes. Some of you may be able to identify with him. We’ve been there. In Jesus’ story the younger son says to his father, “Father, give me my share of the estate.” So the father divides his property between his two sons and the younger one sets off for a distant country and there squanders his wealth in wild living. The conversation and reaction of the father and younger son are particularly striking.
Consider if you will the fact that the younger son asks his father for his share of what would eventually be his inheritance. That is remarkable, even shocking. Even if ancient law, Jewish or Roman for that matter, had provision for doing what the son wants his father to do, which is most unlikely from what we know, based on the sources we have, it’s an affront to the father. In the ancient world, as today, an inheritance is received only at the death of the parent. Therefore the son’s request amounts to saying, “Dad, I wish you were dead!”
Next, when the son leaves home for a far off country, he distances himself from his father and older brother not only geographically, but also psychologically. He has, in short, demonstrated that he is done being with his father and others in the household. He’s saying I can live independently, take care of my own needs, I don’t need the security that family brings. However, his plan fails and he ends up in trouble.
Once he’s spent all he’s been given, he runs into difficulty, and becomes a servant of a farmer in the far country. The latter is a Gentile, because he has a pig farm. The son is an indentured servant, working for a set number of months or years. Feeding pigs would be in itself bad enough for a Jew, but to consider joining the pigs at the trough is to add degradation upon shame.
Eventually, the son “came to himself” and decided to go home again. That doesn’t necessarily mean that he had remorse, as in contrition, for the motive given in the text is that he realized that he was better off at home. True, he produces a speech, but does it indicate true remorse, or is it preparation for manipulating his father? Based on the young man’s past actions it’s easy for us to focus on the negative. To be suspicious of his intensions. And while we could sit in judgment and argue whether or not the son truly repents, the focus of the story shifts to the father’s reaction to the son’s return; a warm embrace.
The father has no idea why the son is coming down the road; he doesn’t even speculate about his son’s motive. He simply sees the son coming, and he “runs” to meet him (15:20). In ancient times, a dignified man does not run! This is a feature of the parable that is easily missed, but it is highly important. The father doesn’t act like a normal father. The father that Jesus portrays acts out the love and compassion of God. Despite the father’s reaction, we still can’t help but question the younger son’s motives.
How many times have we run into people who appear to be contrite about their lives and actions only to see them repeat the same sin over and over again. It’s like one of Garrison Keillor’s stories from Pastor Ingfest’s Lutheran Church in Lake Wobegon. “Larry Sorenson was back at the Lutheran Church,” Keillor writes. “Larry the Sad Boy, who was saved twelve times in the Lutheran Church; an all-time record. Between 1953 and 1961, he threw himself weeping and contrite on God’s throne of grace on twelve separate occasions. Remember, this in a Lutheran Church that wasn’t evangelical, had no altar calls, no organist playing ‘Just as I am without one plea’ while the choir hummed.
Larry Sorenson came forward weeping buckets and crumpled up at the communion rail, to the amazement of the minister, who had just delivered a dry sermon on stewardship, and who now had to put his arm around this limp, saggy individual and pray with him and see if he had a ride home. Twelve times. Granted,” says Garrison Keillor, “we’re born in original sin and are worthless and vile, but twelve conversions is too many. There comes a point where you should dry your tears, and join the building committee and start grappling with the problems of getting a building permit or if we should remove the steel beam that’s impeding progress in the kitchen, or simply make coffee. Do something, be of use, but Larry just kept on repenting and repenting.” But the story is open ended about the motives of the younger son leaving us to ask ourselves the question, how often have I come to the Father for forgiveness only to have questionable motives?
But for now, let’s assume the young man in Jesus’ parable is truly penitent. Let’s assume he’s ready to “join the building committee and start grappling with the problems of the kitchen renovations, make coffee and be of use . . .” By presuming the best, we can sympathize with him. He’s learned some hard lessons, but at least he’s back home. Most of all, he’s learned how lonesome it can be when you turn your back on those who love you. He’s headed home. He’s done wrong. He’s repented. Now he’s headed toward the safety of his father’s house. The prodigal is the first character in this remarkable story. The second and central character within the story is his father.
Upon coming to his senses, the young man has rehearsed what he’s going to say to his father. “I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him. Again, look at the non-typical reaction of the father.
How many parents do you know who would react this way? The parent in this story can only be God the Father, since the normal human reaction would be less welcoming and therefore less loving. “The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ I think the son knew he would be received by his father, but the reception the son received, I’m sure, was unexpected.
In this parable, Jesus reveals the nature of God. Instead of immediately affirming the son’s sin and granting his request to be a servant, Jesus continues the story by saying, “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.” Jesus is showing us the nature of our heavenly Father; God in all His grace and love. Helmut Thielicke says this parable ought to be called the Parable of the Waiting Father rather than the Parable of the Prodigal Son. Everything depends on God’s grace.
In the magnificent Hermitage, the palace of Catherine the Great in St. Petersburg, Russia, there’s a fascinating painting by the Dutch artist Rembrandt called, “The Return of the Prodigal Son.” Some have called this work the greatest picture ever painted. In Rembrandt’s painting based on this parable, the son has returned home after wasting his inheritance and falling into poverty and despair. He kneels before his father in repentance, wishing for forgiveness and a renewed place in the family. Standing at his right is his older brother, who’s arms are crossed in judgment.
The most fascinating aspect of this painting is the portrayal of the father’s hands as he bends over to embrace his penitent son. It’s said that the hands of the father were one of the last things Rembrandt painted just before he died. The father’s left hand isn’t surprising. It’s a strong, masculine hand, the kind of hand that you expect this farmer/father to have. But the right hand is much different. It’s smaller. It’s the soft feminine hand of a woman. Think of the significance of that one figure but with noticeably different hands one masculine, the other feminine.
Father Henri Nouwen noticed the difference between these two hands. He wrote a book also titled, Return of the Prodigal Son, in which he comments on Rembrandt’s painting. He writes: “As soon as I recognized the difference between the two hands of the father, a new world of meaning opened up for me. The Father isn’t simply a great patriarch. He’s mother as well as father. He touches the son with a masculine hand and a feminine hand. He holds, and she caresses. He confirms and she consoles. He is, indeed, God, in whom both manhood and womanhood, fatherhood and motherhood, are fully present. That gentle and caressing right hand echoes for me the words of the prophet Isaiah: ‘Can a woman forget her baby at the breast, feel no pity for the child she has borne?’” We moderns are conscious of masculine and feminine images of God, but Rembrandt was hundreds of years ahead of us.
I thought of Father Nouwen’s analysis of this great painting when I read evangelist Franklin Graham’s story about his own return home after living as somewhat of a prodigal. He tells his story in his book Rebel with a Cause. Franklin Graham is, of course, the son of the world’s most famous evangelist Billy Graham.
By his own admission, Franklin was a rebel; in fact, he openly opposed every value and every virtue his parents stood for, including the Christian faith. He smoked, he drank, he cursed, he caroused; he did it all. But no scene in his book is more poignant than the day that Franklin Graham was kicked out of a conservative college in Texas for taking a co-ed off campus for the weekend and piloting a rented plane to Florida. He writes: “The drive home from Texas was dreary. Maybe by driving slow I was prolonging the inevitable; I would have to face my parents. I knew they had to be disappointed in me, I was! They had invested a lot of money in my education, and now I’d messed up.
“I drove through the gate and started up the road to our home, imagining the lecture my parents would give me. So many other times when I had come home, I could hardly wait to say hello to everyone. But no joy this time. I felt so badly when I finally reached the house. Then I saw mama standing on the front porch and I wanted to run and hide in the nearest hole. It was one of the few times I can remember not wanting to look her in the eye. “When I walked up to her, my body felt limp. I barely had the nerve to lift my head or extend my arms for a hug. But I didn’t need to. Mama wrapped her arms around me, and, with a smile, she said, ‘Welcome home, Franklin.’”
Rembrandt knew that a gracious God could be portrayed as a loving mom or dad.
There has been a long-running controversy in Christian circles over inclusive language, especially for the person of God. Is God a male? Physiologically speaking, no. Is God a female? Again from a purely physical point of view, the answer is no. God quite simply is spirit. Maleness and femaleness are characteristics of physical, created beings. We address God as our heavenly Father because this is what Jesus has taught and revealed to us. What’s important for us to understand is that God’s character is one of unconditional love. Finally there is a third character in this story, the elder brother.
His story is somewhat different from that of his brother. The elder brother didn’t go into the far country. He didn’t lose his inheritance, didn’t live among pigs. He stayed home . . . did what was expected of him. Some might say that he was obedient to a fault. But listen to how he responds to his brother’s return: “Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’
“The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’”
Notice how he refers to his relationship with his father. He says, “All these years I’ve been slaving for you . . .” Those are revealing words. Not “working for you” or “serving you” or “helping with the family farm.” No, he says he was “slaving for his father.” Pastor Tim Keller calls this “duty without beauty.” Notice how he refers to his brother: “But when this son of yours . . . comes home.” He can’t ever refer to him as his brother, but as “this son of yours.”
The father seeks to set him straight. “My son,” his father says, “you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.” Notice that the father reminds the elder son, first of all, that the prodigal is his brother! Sometimes that happens to those who are so eager to condemn those who are weaker and have given into temptation. Bad decisions or not, they’re still our brothers and sisters.
The elder son peers with critical eyes and a cold unforgiving heart at both his brother who has broken all the rules and his father, so eager to welcome his wayward son back home. The elder brother is disrespectful, spiteful, angry and resentful. And many of us understand that. We sometimes wonder why God bends over backward to welcome back the wayward and seems to ignore those of us who have always played by the rulebook. It’s hard for us to accept that Jesus sees more hope in the much-deserved humility of the prodigal than the self-righteous indignation of his brother. And yet it’s important that we do hear Jesus’ message.
We sometimes read this parable and consign the elder brother to the supporting cast, a minor character in the narrative. The truth is, Jesus may have intended for him to be the central character in the story. Remember who Jesus is telling this parable to. It’s the religious leaders of the day. The first two verses of the chapter tell us that. We read, “Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.’”
The story of the prodigal is intended to give hope to the tax collectors and the sinners. But it’s a devastating judgment on the attitudes and actions of the scribes and Pharisees. For you see, they are the elder brother in Jesus’ parable keeping the Law, but looking with disdain upon those not as righteous as they. And friends, that’s how the church appears to many people in our society today.
Joseph Stowell, President of Moody Bible Institute, began a message on the parable of the Prodigal Son with these words: “I have never known a time when Christians have been more mad about more things than we are now . . . We’re angry about values, politics, television, media, education, the violation of the unborn, condoms and criminals . . . We’re shouting more . . . Publicly we are perceived to be long on madness and short on mercy . . . We’ve become grumbling warriors instead of committed seekers.” Such attitudes are making it more and more difficult for us to reach people, especially young people, with the message of Christ. The wrong attitude can be likened to a blockage in the body.
If someone has a blockage in the body and it isn’t removed, that person will get very sick and may die. The Psalmist in today’s Psalm reading is talked about a blockage in his or her relationship with God. Like a stubborn mule, no repentance or confession was made, but that blocked the relationship with the Lord and even made the body sick.
Healing and forgiveness comes with true confession and honesty before God and honesty with ourselves. Healing happens when the blockage is removed. Happiness accompanies forgiveness. Forgiveness, reconciliation and honesty before God and one another reminds us of the faithful and steadfast love of God. Forgiveness is not somber, but rather an occasion to shout for joy, to rejoice, to be glad in the Lord, to be at home with the Lord. As the hymn writer reminds us, “Grace will lead us home.”
Our parable for today has three characters: the penitent prodigal; his loving and gracious parent representing God; and his smug, self-righteous brother. If you’re the prodigal, realize the direction your headed, come to your senses and come home. It’s never too late. If you’re the elder brother, look to the father’s reaction and learn from it. Righteous indignation doesn’t make the attitude right.
I know it’s hard to see our own sin than it is for our weaker brothers or sisters, but the sin of self-righteousness may be the most deadly sin of all. The good news in this parable is that each of us can come home. No matter how far we wander, or what we’ve done, Jesus assures us that we can come home. Home to the waiting arms of the Father and be welcomed, forgiven and have the relationship we need restored. As the father welcomed the son, so God in Christ welcomes us. This also has implications for the life of a congregation. As Paul put it so well, “Welcome one another… just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God” (Romans 15:7).
Amen

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