This story which we read this morning is one of three stories from Luke concerning being lost and being found. Jesus tells the story of the lost sheep, the lost coin and then, in this story, two brothers who are both lost. We normally think of just one being lost, but there are two. We'll talk about the first one this week and the second one next week.
In your sermon notes I have two outlines, one which well follow for the sermon I will be preaching today; the other was given to me several years ago after I had preached on this text by a colleague of his in Garrett Biblical Institute. At that time Harris Franklin Rail taught theology in the seminary and was pastor at First Methodist Church in Evanston, Illinois. He has a three-part sermon (as they all used to be then).
I. Burning
A. Caviling
B. Traveling
C. RavelingII. Yearning
A. Went to the dogs
B. Lost his togs
C. Fed the hogsIII. Returning
A. Got the seal
B. Ate the veal
C. Danced the reel
Ralls showed a lot of imagination and I thought you would enjoy seeing his outline.
We have this thing with our father, sometimes with our mother. When we are young they could do no wrong, but after a while they can do nothing right. It's part of the process of maturity, establishing our own identity which causes us to push ourselves away from them in order to find out who we are on our own. Sometimes we compete against them, but we are always tied to them by some desire, however hidden, for their approval.
For some sons the pushing away is done in an open, rebellious, sometimes violent way. For others the relationship just begins to unravel over a period of time; and the years are lived with quiet uneasiness, or even hostility. It happens all the time.
Jesus told a story of a father and two sons; one of the sons is driven by his need to get away.
Put yourself in the family circle for a moment. Try to imagine the context out of which this story comes. They had not gotten on well for some time. Tension began to filter into every conversation and experience in the home. The father's expectation of the boys had been weighing heavier all the time upon the younger son. Besides, he was repulsed by the attitude of his older brother. To him the restrictions of family, culture and faith seemed to be punitive, not supportive.
One night there was an explosion and he demanded his inheritance, the equivalent of wishing his father dead. Even if it meant selling the property, selling the livestock, whatever it took, he wanted it. His father knew he could not hold his son against his will, and with breaking heart he let him go.
Out from under the discipline of his father, with this new freedom which he found, the boy yielded to every desire. The younger son knew neither the value of money nor the importance of moral integrity. So this young person began his adventure in life driven by his own desires^ prisoner of his own ego. (J. S. Glen The Parables of Conflict in Luke - p. 27) It was the time of "burning".
The drive to become independent of his father and live apart from him became the desire for lawless freedom. We see here that as long as one's own pleasure is the dominant drive in our lives, as long as our own satisfaction is the most important thing, we live on the brink of heartbreak and tragedy.
The son and the father had a different concept of freedom. For the father freedom meant responsibility. For the son freedom meant doing whatever he wanted without regard to anyone else. So he took a trip into the far country.
Have you ever been in the far country? Let me rephrase that. Think of some of the times you have been in the far country. It may be a literal journey, of course; sometimes people move just to get away from home. A number of people experience a marriage relationship foundered on the rocks of reality, because they went into it just to get away from an oppressive home.
Sometimes we go into a far country spiritually; we drift away or run away from what we feel is a sense of God's presence, God's demand, God's invitation. We want to have none of it so we try to get away. This boy's desire to be free from all restrictions, to be independent of the moral law, to do what he wanted without regard to others brought him to a place of hunger, poverty and degradation. He entered a season of "yearning".
It brought him to a critical point where, though he was still a man he was in danger of dying like a pig, forsaken by his friends, the care of his father and any one else who had had any concern about him. Though he was still a son he had lost the sense of being a son as a consequence of a freedom which was really a form of foolishness. (Glen p.29)
He wasn't the first person, of course, and he won't be the last to be lost in this kind of bog of self-will. Those who make self-gratification the center of their lives are often those who woo themselves and others to a point of starvation, moral degradation, even violence. The consequence of people who are driven by greed without moral consideration, those who think they can use themselves and their lives and the resources of our world without regard to the one who gives it to us...God our Father, sooner or later not only bring themselves to grief but often their community and even the world.
What's right with this younger brother? There is a lot that's right with him, and this comes under the theme of "returning".
The first thing that was right with him was that HE CAME TO HIMSELF. He woke up to what he had done to himself. He saw the mistakes that he had made. He didn't blame his father or mother or his synagogue or his village where he grew up. He confessed that the decision was his, the choices had been his and though he was wasted he had the character to assume responsibility for his situation.
It's interesting that the Bible reveals that failure jolted him to an awareness where success had not reached him. He had succeeded in getting his inheritance. He had no trouble going into the far country, that's the easy part. It's easy to run away. He had been successful in surrounding himself with buddies. Then he hit rock bottom. As a Jew he became a swineherd, the most despicable occupation you could think of, working for a gentile. He was dead in his father's eyes. He had spurned everything from the past and at that dead-end, starving and destitute, he came to himself.
Sam Keen, an author and former editor of Psychology Today, once wrote of his own experience. "One rainy morning I awoke alone in an apartment in San Francisco with the realization that my marriage had finished, my wife had remarried, my children were living far away... my academic career had been abandoned. My emotional capital seemed exhausted. My past looked infinitely richer than any future I might create. Depression lurked easily and invaded any empty moment. I had either tosurrender to despair or mourn the death of my old life and find some way to begin again."
That's what this younger son did. He looked at himself honestly; he mourned the death of the past and said I've got to find some other way into the future.
The second thing that's right with this younger brother is THAT HE WAS WILLING TO DO WHAT EVER WAS NECESSARY TO CHANGE. He had the courage to say, "I made a mistake." He was willing to risk confessing that he was wrong and he was not deterred by the thought that if he went back somebody would laugh at him. Or that his father might not even let him be a slave. He was willing to retrace his steps back as far as possible to the place from which his tragic venture had begun... back to his father. That is the key to unraveling many a tragic situation. To go back to the father. He was willing to go home in humiliation, not triumph, even though his older brother might greet him in derision. He was willing to do whatever was necessary to change, to start over, lower than he had started out. Technically he was no longer even a son.
Henri Nouwen, who has written so many books which have helped people in their own spiritual journey, finding the sense of God's love and grace for themselves, once wrote, "I have come to realize the need for returning over and over again. My life drifts away from God. I have to return. My heart moves away from my first love. I have to return. My mind wanders. I have to return. Returning is a life-long struggle."
The third thing that was right with the prodigal son was THAT HE HAD A FATHER WHO MET HIM MORE THAN HALF WAY. He rehearsed his speech he planned to give to his father. He'd rehearsed it for weeks before he ever decided to go back. Finally, after he had gone over it again and again, "Father, I am no longer worthy to be called your son, treat me like one of your hired servants." It was hardly out of his mouth before his father grabbed him and embraced him. It may have been more logical for the father to say, "Well, buddy, you made your bed, now you lie in it." There are some fathers who have done that. But he took him back.
The younger son's father was sustained by a love that was too deep and too enduring to be shattered by his child's waywardness.
I have a friend who told me of her own father. She said her sister had made a terrible mess of her life. Her father had sent her to college. She partied too much, flunked and dropped out. Her father took her back home. She became pregnant, (this in a Catholic family,) without a husband. Her father loved her still. She married and divorced because it was a bad marriage from the beginning. Her father took her back.
The girl's sister marveled that their father again and again reached out in love and care for this girl who seemed to have no respect and little honor. The story has a happy ending. Today, the girl is a well-respected professional, married and enjoying an abundant life.
The father in Jesus' story was not only hoping that his son would return, he was looking for him. Every day he would go to the window and look down the street which went down the center of the village to see if his son might be coming back. Day after day, morning and night, he went to peer into the distance.
One day a figure, whose filthy rags and haggard appearance could not conceal to his father's eyes that this was his son, the younger son approached from the distance.(Glen p. 31) The father's response was one of instant compassion. He ran down the street of the village. He didn't wait until he got into the shadow of a house where no one else could see him. This father who had been embarrassed by his son, who had been demeaned, who in the eyes of the community had been wished dead by his son because he grabbed his inheritance before the father's death, this father ran through the village and threw his arms around the boy.
His forgiveness was extravagant. He welcomed him without making him grovel. The symbols of forgiveness and reinstatement tumbled out. The kiss was a sign of forgiveness. The feast was a sign of rejoicing. The robe marked him as an honored guest. The signet ring was a sign of authority once more. The shoes on his feet meant he was a free man not a slave. The change in status was so profound; it was as though h^had come back from the dead.
In the end we realize that it is the father's love that makes possible the son's repentance and willingness to change. A dim awareness, buried long ago, was still there stirring in his heart, this dim awareness of his father as a person of grace. The father's forgiveness sweeps away his guilt and estrangement.
Last weekend some of us were at Orange for a spiritual life retreat where the leader told a story from her own childhood. She said the first time she drove the family car after she got her license was to the youth group meeting at church. Her drive to the church was uneventful, but when she started home at a stop, the car behind her, driven by one of the other youth, hit her. She went home and told her parents what had happened. Her father said to her, "Well, Joanne, we're just glad that you weren't hurt." She realized at that moment that she was more important to them than the car.
This story which Jesus told is memorable not because of it's literary beauty, though it is a good story, powerful in its simplicity. It is memorable because of the great good news it tells us about God. This father of the boys is the God, father, mother of us all. The story moves us to understand that we live in a world made new by God whose mercy and grace for those who seek it is greater than we could have hoped and more abundant than we can ever deserve. Amen.
Loving God, sometimes we look at the world around us and wonder. We weep with those who suffer in war torn countries. We weep with those people in Kosovo, in the Middle East, in Ireland, in countries in Asia. We feel such loss when we hear the destruction to our environment and to the life it sustains. We search for your face in the eyes of the homeless, the imprisoned, the hungry and the forgotten in our midst. We are terrified when the diagnosis that we had feared becomes reality. We are crushed when we hear the news of violence taking place in the town of Littleton, Colorado. The loss of innocent lives. The anger and the hurt that drove to the killing. We pray for the young people, O God. We pray for their families that they can discover New Hope, that they can feel your love and compassion.
Yes, Lord, sometimes we look around the world around us and wonder. We call out to you, "Do not leave us desolate. Do not leave us alone. Do not leave us in our fear and uncertainty." You have promised to send your spirit. Your spirit comforts us when we are depressed. Your spirit strengthens us when we are afraid. Your spirit calms us when we are embattled. You are faithful to us even when we test you, bargain with you, abandon you, blame you. You continue to forgive us and to draw us back to yourself, for you understand the pain in our lives, the child who chooses the wrong path, the spouse who wants a divorce, the friend who drinks to mask the hurt, the one who suffers with physical limitations, the loved one who has died.
We pray for the family of Hazel Lindborg who died this last week, for Jim Felix in the loss of his brother Joe, for the Walker family, Mark and Richard and their families, in the loss of their mother, Janet. We pray this morning, Loving God, that you would take our sorrows and transform them into hope with the promise of the counselor comes an assurance that we will not be left alone. You continue to lead us as we pursue the paths of discipleship, and as we seek to keep our commandments.
We look to your spirit to fill us with counsel and guidance. We look to your spirit for strength for our journey. We look to your spirit for an empowering love stronger than any force that should seek to defeat us. You, O God, are our source of hope. In your presence we can awake each morning filled with the sense of wonder. We can live each day in the light of the joy that is promised.
We give thanks that this church is a community of hope, living the love of Jesus for all creation, and we give thanks that it is continually renewed by the fresh winds of your spirit.
We pray all this in the name of your son, Jesus Christ, who taught us to pray, Our Father...