Luke 15:11-32 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)
“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.’”
We’ve already mentioned this Lenten season how long the readings from Luke are – and this one seems to be the longest of them all. That’s because it isn’t really a single story, it’s layer upon layer of stories.
There is the younger son’s story, the older son’s story, the father’s story, and even those stories have multiple layers. We have the younger son’s own version of his story. And we have the older son’s version of the younger son’s story. And then we have the father’s version of the stories of both of his sons. We have the older son’s version of his relationship with his father and the father’s version of that same relationship. And so on.
We even have our versions of each of these stories – our individual interpretations of what is going on here, based in our own lived experience. How many of you here today are the oldest child in your birth family? How many youngest children? There’s a good chance we will see this story differently depending on our own birth order.
There is even the community’s version of these various stories because the communities in which we live are the ones who set the standards and the rules for “proper” behavior – for who is good and who is bad.
Layer upon layer upon layer.
There’s so much going on here that we simply cannot chop it down to anything shorter – believe me, I tried..
At its most simplistic we could say that it’s a story of repentance and forgiveness. But even with that stripped down description, we’re not really sure how penitent the younger son is. He says all the right things, but he says them in order to get some food in his belly – not necessarily with true remorse for the hurt he caused. He’s starving and this is the best way to get fed. At this point he’ll say anything to get some food.
The elder brother can’t even work up a pretend “welcome back, bro.” He’s jealous and angry and feeling put upon. He doesn’t care if his brother is starving or not. His whole concern is a consuming snit because “it’s not fair!” There is no forgiveness to be found on his side of the story.
The only character in this reading whose story is clear and consistent is the father. He believed he had lost one of his sons and now he has this son back. He never lost his older son, he never stopped loving his older son – but he thought his younger son was lost to him forever. And now he has him back again. He is a father who loves both his sons and now he has them both with him again. This is what matters to the father – not community sentiment, not the “rightness” or the “wrongness” of the younger son’s behavior, not any equality of treatment between his sons – but simply his love for both his sons. No judgment – just love.
I remember when I first stood in a pulpit and had to start wrestling with scripture as something to explain and open up for understanding. The first time this particular story came around, my sympathy was mostly for the elder son. I thought, at first, that he was getting a raw deal. That response, I fear, said more about me at the time than about the elder son. I wasn’t, it seemed, willing for the father to give his love without my approval.
I thought the younger son was nothing but a con-man, saying whatever it took to get him what he wanted. I still lean a little in that direction. What I have learned over the years is that it doesn’t matter to the father/God. He is not judging the boy – and neither should I. He’s just loving him – and so should I.
We live in a sea of stories – our own stories, the stories of the people around us, the stories of strangers that we only hear about at a distance. In every one of those stories – including our own – we are most often seeing only the surface. In other people’s stories, we may not know what is under the surface. In our own stories, we may know what lies deeper down but we do not want to see it or consider it because it is embarrassing or painful.
How often do we take the time to consider another’s story from any angle but the one most convenient to us? Those who have been in this congregation for a long time have probably heard me tell this story. This didn’t happen here in our church, but I know where it did happen and some of the people involved.
The church involved was changing over their form of communion from individual juice cups and crackers to a common loaf and intinction in a common chalice. One older woman was very upset at this change because, as she explained, someone might get a larger piece of bread than she --- someone might get more grace than she. My response the first time I heard this, was “what an idiot” – not remotely, I’m sure, the response God would have me come up with.
In the first years since then, my response changed to pity, that anyone might believe God’s love has to be so carefully parceled out in equal measures, lest they get less of God’s love than someone else. In more recent years, I’ve accepted that it’s none of my business to judge and to do my best to just love, as God loves.
In one of my favorite books, Love Wins, by Rob Bell, in writing about this particular bible story, he says
We can choose to go through life seeing all our stories through the lens of our own experience, Or we can stretch ourselves and try to see through another person’s point of view. Or, best of all, we can really stretch ourselves and try to see all those stories that make up the world around us, through God’s eyes. Not looking for equality or parity or justice. Maybe just looking with the eyes of love.
Just like God looks at us.
Thanks be to God.
There is the younger son’s story, the older son’s story, the father’s story, and even those stories have multiple layers. We have the younger son’s own version of his story. And we have the older son’s version of the younger son’s story. And then we have the father’s version of the stories of both of his sons. We have the older son’s version of his relationship with his father and the father’s version of that same relationship. And so on.
We even have our versions of each of these stories – our individual interpretations of what is going on here, based in our own lived experience. How many of you here today are the oldest child in your birth family? How many youngest children? There’s a good chance we will see this story differently depending on our own birth order.
There is even the community’s version of these various stories because the communities in which we live are the ones who set the standards and the rules for “proper” behavior – for who is good and who is bad.
Layer upon layer upon layer.
There’s so much going on here that we simply cannot chop it down to anything shorter – believe me, I tried..
At its most simplistic we could say that it’s a story of repentance and forgiveness. But even with that stripped down description, we’re not really sure how penitent the younger son is. He says all the right things, but he says them in order to get some food in his belly – not necessarily with true remorse for the hurt he caused. He’s starving and this is the best way to get fed. At this point he’ll say anything to get some food.
The elder brother can’t even work up a pretend “welcome back, bro.” He’s jealous and angry and feeling put upon. He doesn’t care if his brother is starving or not. His whole concern is a consuming snit because “it’s not fair!” There is no forgiveness to be found on his side of the story.
The only character in this reading whose story is clear and consistent is the father. He believed he had lost one of his sons and now he has this son back. He never lost his older son, he never stopped loving his older son – but he thought his younger son was lost to him forever. And now he has him back again. He is a father who loves both his sons and now he has them both with him again. This is what matters to the father – not community sentiment, not the “rightness” or the “wrongness” of the younger son’s behavior, not any equality of treatment between his sons – but simply his love for both his sons. No judgment – just love.
I remember when I first stood in a pulpit and had to start wrestling with scripture as something to explain and open up for understanding. The first time this particular story came around, my sympathy was mostly for the elder son. I thought, at first, that he was getting a raw deal. That response, I fear, said more about me at the time than about the elder son. I wasn’t, it seemed, willing for the father to give his love without my approval.
I thought the younger son was nothing but a con-man, saying whatever it took to get him what he wanted. I still lean a little in that direction. What I have learned over the years is that it doesn’t matter to the father/God. He is not judging the boy – and neither should I. He’s just loving him – and so should I.
We live in a sea of stories – our own stories, the stories of the people around us, the stories of strangers that we only hear about at a distance. In every one of those stories – including our own – we are most often seeing only the surface. In other people’s stories, we may not know what is under the surface. In our own stories, we may know what lies deeper down but we do not want to see it or consider it because it is embarrassing or painful.
How often do we take the time to consider another’s story from any angle but the one most convenient to us? Those who have been in this congregation for a long time have probably heard me tell this story. This didn’t happen here in our church, but I know where it did happen and some of the people involved.
The church involved was changing over their form of communion from individual juice cups and crackers to a common loaf and intinction in a common chalice. One older woman was very upset at this change because, as she explained, someone might get a larger piece of bread than she --- someone might get more grace than she. My response the first time I heard this, was “what an idiot” – not remotely, I’m sure, the response God would have me come up with.
In the first years since then, my response changed to pity, that anyone might believe God’s love has to be so carefully parceled out in equal measures, lest they get less of God’s love than someone else. In more recent years, I’ve accepted that it’s none of my business to judge and to do my best to just love, as God loves.
In one of my favorite books, Love Wins, by Rob Bell, in writing about this particular bible story, he says
- Grace and generosity aren’t fair; that’s their very essence. The father in this story sees the younger son’s return as one more occasion to practice unfairness. The younger son doesn’t deserve a party – that’s the point of the party. That’s how things work in the father’s world. Profound unfairness.
We can choose to go through life seeing all our stories through the lens of our own experience, Or we can stretch ourselves and try to see through another person’s point of view. Or, best of all, we can really stretch ourselves and try to see all those stories that make up the world around us, through God’s eyes. Not looking for equality or parity or justice. Maybe just looking with the eyes of love.
Just like God looks at us.
Thanks be to God.
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