+In today’s Parable of the Prodigal Son we hear about the very Lenten themes of reconciliation and restoration, neither of which happen quickly or easily. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s talk for a bit about the story.
Now I don’t know about you, but whenever I hear this story I cast it with actors from my own life...assigning people the roles I feel they’ve earned through their behavior. In other words, just like the Pharisees, I judge people putting them in the role I’ve assigned them and then feel all righteous and holy about how bad they are....
But here’s the thing about parables: We’re every character. At one time or another we’ve been the dad, the older son and the younger. The older son gets our sympathy because he’s the one who did what was culturally appropriate and acceptable, staying home to work the family homestead. In Jesus’ day, sons helped their father and then when Dad died the sons were given equal shares of the property. Ideally they would keep the shares intact and work the land together, passing it on to their children. An agrarian culture is one of the most interdependent cultures known to humankind. “I need you and you need me, we are all in this together.” So when the son forever known as the prodigal gets a bit of wanderlust and asks for his share of the land now—well it was akin to saying, “Dad I can’t wait for you to die, gimme what I have coming.” Cashing in on the family homestead, dividing the land your family has farmed for GENERATIONS? It was disgraceful, wrong and hurtful. But just about the time in the story when we’re thoroughly disgusted with the prodigal, all his grand plans fall apart. He realizes he
needs help, that he needs his family. The youngest son sitting amidst the pig slop of his life has an “aha” moment.
The prodigal, this son of so much ambition, this son who didn’t need anybody, is broken. The hubris is gone, leaving him with genuine humility. All that’s left is honesty, all that’s left is the promise, the hope, the longing that his father, among all the anger and bitterness the son assumes is waiting for him, will see fit to hire him as a common laborer. As he turns toward home he expects jeers, insults, taunts and anger. But instead he’s greeted with hugs, tears and shouts of thanksgiving. He’s seated at the head of the table and toasted as an honored guest. The father is grateful beyond all measure. But the older son, the good and loyal one so many of us relate to? He’s not so excited, he’s not so forgiving, he’s not so grateful. Who can blame him? After all he stayed and did the right thing, but now this nare-do well, this pain in the butt younger brother gets a feast, a ring and his father’s undying love? Yes.
Is it fair? No.
Is it comfortable? No.
Does it make sense? Well, viewed through the lens of our outrageously gracious God, YES.
You see reconciliation is the backbone of love.
We must be able and willing to reconcile our differences, to forgive our hurts and to move on if we’re to truly live a life of love. Love doesn’t mean never hurting each other, love means hurting one another and then making it right.
God does this all the time.
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God forgives us again and again and again because we hurt God again and again and again. But God chooses to define our relationship with God not through the mistakes we’ve made and the hurts we’ve caused but through the lessons we’ve learned and the corrections we’ve made.
The trick is being humble enough, honest enough and brave enough to admit our mistakes, learn from them and move on. It’s the stuff of Lent my friends---taking an inventory and making adjustments.
The three major players in today’s Gospel, the hurt but always ready to forgive parent, the stalwart, angry older brother and the lost younger son represent each and every one of us at various times in our lives: sometimes we’re the one whose been hurt, other times we’re the one who is angry and still other times we’re the one who’s lost.
Regardless of which role we’re playing today, regardless of whose journey resonates with us the most, we will, at one time or another find ourselves, hurt, angry or lost and in need of reconciliation. But the good news is that each and every time we admit our mistakes, each and every time we learn from them and move on, each and every time we make things right, our loving and gracious God, just like the loving and gracious parent in today’s parable, looks around and says to all in ear shot, “look she once was lost and now she’s found.” “Look, I never gave up hope, I never doubted her true intentions, I have prayed and prayed that this lost sheep, this lost child, this misguided soul would return to the home of my always
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outstretched, always, accepting, always thrilled to see you arms of eternal, abundant, amazing and outlandish LOVE.
This is the stuff of love, it is the stuff of faith, it is the stuff of our loving, life giving and liberating God. And for that we all can say, “Amen!”
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