Prodigal

Luke 15:11-32
Community Congregational United Church of Christ,
Clinton, IA

Today we have read one of the most famous stories in the Gospels, the Parable of the Prodigal Son. Two brothers--the younger wandered off with a vast sum of inheritance and squandered it on dissolute living.  He blew it all.

When he had nothing left, a severe famine struck the land, and he was quite literally starving.  It was at this moment, in a pig pen, far from home, that he realized the error of his ways.  He resolved that he would return home, not to pretend that everything was just fine as always, but to throw himself at the mercy of his father and ask to work among the hired hands, just so that he might have something to eat.

While he was still a long way from home, his father spotted him and ran to him and embraced him, then gave orders to his servants to host a celebration the likes of which that family farm had never seen before.

The older brother, who had been there all along, the responsible one, was angry.  He was resentful at both his brother and his father.  In the midst of all this celebration, he felt rather like chopped liver.

The father reminds him, "Everything I have is already yours, but this brother was dead to us, and now he is restored."

Oh, friends, there is so much in this story for us to explore--more than we'll begin to cover this morning.  Strained family relationships feature so heavily in the Bible, because so few of us ever manage our own family life without at least some.  There is even an echo to this parable in the Gospels, which instead of two brothers--one responsible yet resentful, and one who is wayward--there are instead two sisters--Martha and Mary, again one responsible yet resentful, and one who sits at Jesus' feet with nary another thought.

If we were to survey the room, how many of us are, or were, or have been at some point, the Responsible One? (a few hands)

How many of us were or are or have been at some point, the Wayward One? (a few hands)

How many of us have found ourselves at different points in our lives, to have played both roles?
(the most hands)

It's actually a bit surprising to me that the younger son had an inheritance to spend anyway--usually, the first born son received everything, including the family business, and the younger sons had two choices: work for big brother, or set out on their own, perhaps hoping to marry well, or to establish a new trade for themselves.  This system certainly had its flaws, and led to other strained relationships--Jacob and Esau come to mind.  Likely, this even further exacerbated the older brother's anger because the money had really come more out of his pocket than his father's --and taken his labor supply along with it!  What an enormous loss!  And all for nothing!

And yet, the father reminds him, there's still more than enough to go around.  In a time of famine, they still have a fatted calf and many more herds and help to see them through.  The father realizes that it's all just stuff, anyway--and that being reunited with this long-lost son is worth more than all of that.

Friends, we touched on this a moment ago, but we probably, almost all of us, could name a 'prodigal' story in our own family histories. Some of them may have had a happy ending.  Others, perhaps, maybe not--or at least not yet, or even in the foreseeable future.  Often these days, for example, we hear of children, siblings, who are lost to drug addiction--and families do spend vast fortunes trying to heal them and bring them home.  It is anguish for them all.

Another situation that seems to happen so often, is that the father or mother has already died, and the siblings become bitter enemies over the inheritance.  Sometimes there is the dynamic of one sibling who was the caretaker, the one who stayed home and shouldered much responsibility--and other siblings further afield--probably taking care of their own families and work where they were--and both parties become deeply resentful of the other, feeling that they lost out on something the other one had--whether it was freedom, or being able to spend more time with their parents at the very end.

It is hard to let these things go.  And sometimes, it's not really the things, the money at the heart of the matter, but the feelings that have built up, of anger and bitterness, of regretful things said that have split the family apart for years.  Or the silence thereafter.  These hurt, deeply, and they seem so hard to overcome.

If not in our own families, we might also see it in our church families.  We see it in so many churches that have a split or hardship, and some leave, and there are often raw, open questions--will those folks ever return, what would that be like, and will there ever be hope or room for reconciliation?

These open questions--and the paths forward--are not usually so simple and straightforward.   This parable conveniently leaves off before the morning after the great celebration, and that first awkward breakfast table conversation, then that next stilted dinner table conversation, and probably a few doozy arguments yet, and so many more days and weeks and months, perhaps even years to come. Reconcilation and forgiveness is so often a process instead of an action, and healing takes time.

We might all be prodigals--in one way or another, at some time, in some role in our lives.  And we may not always have a wise earthly parent figure to guide us through those first awkward steps back to reconciliation.  Yet, should we find this to be the case, we still have some hope:

While he was still far from home, his father saw him, and ran to him.

God sees us, God loves us, God has compassion for us, and God rushes to us when we are still so far away, to reconcile and restore us, no matter what we've done or how unworthy we feel.  Or even how tired and resentful we may be.  God reconciles all things to God's own self, and makes a new thing right when everything seems to be ruined.  This is the nature of God's abundant love for us, and for all people, all families, everywhere.

Thanks be to God!