Today’s Gospel begins with Jesus being harangued by the Pharisees…so what’s new, right? They’re ticked off because he’s been cavorting with sinners, hanging out with the wrong people, doing things he shouldn’t have been doing. According to the social mores, as established by the Pharisees, Jesus was breaking all the rules. Like I said, what else is new?
And, as is his custom, Jesus answers the charges with a parable.
The parable of the prodigal son is said to be the most famous. This is no surprise really--- we all know this guy don’t we? We all have a sibling, co-worker, neighbor or friend who is just like the Prodigal Son. A pain in the youknowhat.
But, Methodist pastor and author Grace Imathiu (“imayathu”) reminds us of prodigal’s actual definition. Prodigal doesn’t mean problem and prodigal doesn’t mean loser. Prodigal means to give or yield profusely and extravagantly. A prodigal person is someone who does things in a BIG way. Prodigal is the root for prodigious as in, “the rest of the country thinks Buffalo gets a prodigious amount of snow, when we know that Syracuse is really the Prodigious Snow Capital of the New York.” This young man did his rebellion prodigiously.
But, back to these prodigal people we know—you know, the person who squanders their money, their good will, their responsibilities….all to the chagrin of you and me. We’re like the elder brother aren’t we? We do things the right way. We take care of business. We follow the rules, do what’s expected of us and when these prodigals saunter in and out of our lives we’re resentful, bitter, exasperated…maybe even whiny. It’s annoying-- they get the party don’t they? They get the fatted calf, the jewels, the nice clothes….the hugs.
Many of us here today are thinking about the prodigals in our lives. A few of us are even admitting— to ourselves-- that we, at times, are the prodigal.
Regardless of whether we are the lost who has been found or the always here and feeling taken for granted, we have a place in this story.
Barbara Brown Taylor has written a number of reflections on this parable. One is entitled the Prodigal Father. Other folks have written about the Prodigal Elder brother. It seems people have different interpretations of who is the recklessly extravagant one in the story.
The father, according to Taylor is the reckless one. After all, in ancient middle eastern society, the father did not run after a wayward son, meeting him on the road---where everyone could see—and lavish him with love before the boy could even utter the most base of apologies. A father in Jesus’ time did not forgive without penance. It just wasn’t done. But in this story it was done. Because that’s how Jesus’ parables go---they take what is expected and do the unexpected.
Others have referred to this as the parable of the Prodigal elder brother who is reckless in his rejection of his younger brother and abundant in his resentment of his father. This older brother has a prodigious amount of resentment, hurt feelings and disappointment.
And of course we have the younger brother, the original Prodigal who so boorishly grabs what isn’t his to grab and goes off to live a life of fast living and lousy investments, only to find himself sitting in the actual and spiritual filth of a pigs.
But, in the end, he hits rock bottom, he “comes to himself.” In 12 step lingo this is called “admitting you are powerless and your life has become unmanageable.” You see, in the practice of the 12 steps one cannot move forward with recovery until one has sat in that hog slop, has come to realize the complete mess our life and then -- ever so slowly-- ask for help. Our prodigal son does just this. And in the wisdom that comes when you have nothing left to lose, he knows this help will be his for the taking if he simply goes home and asks for forgiveness.
Now it can be debated whether the prodigal was really sorry---perhaps he was really hungry, really tired and really scared—but was he really sorry? We don’t know. We’re not told.
Because it doesn’t matter. In this parable, in the 12 step groups and in our life with God, amendment of life doesn’t begin with awareness of how sorry we really are. No amendment of life begins with admitting that we’re powerless, that our way hasn’t gotten us where we want to—should be. Our way has gotten us in our own version of a pig sty envious of the food given to the hogs and sure of only one thing: that we’re NOT where we want to be. So we trudge home, ready to beg for forgiveness, not because we really mean it, but because we really NEED it.
And lo and behold, what happens? What happens to the Prodigal in our story? He, before he can utter his well rehearsed apology, before he can beg his father to at least give him an opportunity to be one of his slaves, his father races out to meet him, lavishing him with kisses and brings him home to a fancy robe, beautiful jewelry and a sumptuous feast.
This is not as uncommon as we may think. When that AA member attend their first meeting, full of shame and fear, before they can even tell their tale of woe and despair they hear it in the stories of the others sitting around that table. So without uttering a word, they are given a cup of coffee a smile, a hug and are told: it’s ok, you’re safe now. Welcome home.
And you know what happens when we stray and become lost, finally returning to trudge up the steps of this Cathedral and settle into a pew? We hear the words of the Prodigal Father who says to the Prodigal Elder Brother--the one who doesn’t quite understand or like that his wayward brother is being treated like a prince---- “he was lost and now he is found”—we hear that we’re loved, our sins forgiven and we’re invited to join in the feast of our Lord, where we hear: “Now there is rejoicing in heaven, for you were lost and now are found, you were dead and are now alive in Christ Jesus our Lord”(BCP pg 451, The Reconciliation of a Penitent) .
For all of us have and will get lost. And each of us can and will be found. And when we are? That’s when the party begins. +
