Prodigals of One Kind or Another

I have a friend who baffles me . . . he once told me, “I wouldn’t be friends with anyone who was a friend of mine.”  That kind of floored me as we had been friends—good friends-- for quite some time, and we still are.  It is true that he had led and was still leading a pretty wild and crazy life that kept getting into all sorts of trouble with people and bordered stepping into the legal area . . . but, he was a good person with a heart of gold.  It was also true that lots of people warned me about getting into a friendship with him as he was “trouble” . . . but, I liked the guy.  We were friends despite all of the warnings I had received.  I imagine he had heard them all and thus the statement, “I wouldn’t want to be friends with anyone who was a friend of mine.”

Our scripture reading this morning starts out with a stark judgment against Jesus: “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”  Apparently the Pharisees and teachers of the law do not approve of who Jesus is friends with . . . seems they wouldn’t want to be friends with anyone who would befriends sinners.  But, Jesus doesn’t care . . . he welcomes the sinners and everyone to come and sit at his table . . . all are welcome . . . even the Pharisees and teachers of the law if they want to come.

What was Jesus’ response to those murmuring about his choice of friends?  He told a parable . . . at least in our particular reading this morning, he told a parable.  In reality he told three parables: one about lost sheep; one about a lost coin; and, one about the lost son.  Our reading this morning focuses on the lost son, or what we call the parable of the Prodigal Son.  Though we only focus on the Prodigal Son, all three parables deal with something or someone being lost.

Of course, we all understand the point of these “lost” parables . . . Jesus has come to find the lost and to invite them back into the fold.  A sheep gets lost, you go out and find the sheep to bring it back to the flock.  A coin gets lost, you search for the coin to return it to the bank.  And, finally, a child wanders away from the family . . . becomes alienated from the family . . . returns and is welcomed back.  The point is, the lost is always returned . . . always received . . . always welcomed back.

We all know the story of the Prodigal Son.  The youngest son decides that he wants to satisfy his wanderlust and demands his inheritance from his father.  The father gifts the son with his inheritance much to the dismay of the older son . . . the older son, the dutiful son, the son who stays behind and waits for inheritance the old-fashion way. 

So, the younger son goes off to the bright lights of the city where he gets caught up in the adventure of debauchery.  He parties like there is no tomorrow only to wake up one day broke and alone in a strange city.  Embarrassed, he tries to make a go of it . . . looks for work wherever he can find it, but can find none.  Hungry, scared, and all alone, he even considers doing the unthinkable . . . becoming a pig farmer!  Good Jewish boys do not become pig farmers.  That is when he decides it is better to return home, seek his father’s forgiveness, and to live with the ridicule the family and community will put him through.  So, he returns home.

Much to his surprise—and to his older brother’s surprise—he is welcomed back by his father with open arms.  The father is so excited to have his “lost” son return that he even throws him a great big shindig sparing no expenses.  This just really torques the older brother off, who then throws a big fit, storms off and wants nothing to do with his brother or father.

That is pretty much the parable of the Prodigal Son in a nutshell.  When studying this parable the big question that gets asked all of the time is: “Which character do you identify with in this story?”  Well, if we want to look good we are all going to answer that we identify with the father . . . that we would welcome the Prodigal back.  Isn’t he the hero in the story?  But, if we were going to be honest with ourselves, we should answer that we one or the other of the brothers . . . if not both.

Now remember that this parable and the other two are prompted when the Pharisees and teachers of the law put down Jesus for mingling and eating with sinners.  And, remember that these parables—including the Prodigal Son—are about being “lost”.  The parable of the Prodigal Son screams with all sort of “lost”.  The younger son gets lost . . . the father is lost without the younger son . . . the older brother gets lost . . . what once was—a family—is torn apart and lost in this story.

During the season of Lent I contend that all of us are prodigals of one sort or another.  Lent is that season in the church in which we are called upon to examine our lives—to look at our faith journeys, and determine what it is that has separated us from God—separated us from our relationship with God.  We are to figure out how we got lost . . . how we lost this relationship.  In that sense, we are all prodigals of one kind or another. 

That is just our nature.  We get lost.  We lose our way in the journey of faith.  Sometimes it is as flamboyant as the younger son in the story—we go out sow our oats, have a great time, and then wake up one day and realize we sure have been wasting a lot of time.  Sometimes it is as the older brother—we remain steadfast to what we have been done, we conduct business as it should be, we wait for our opportunity, we do things right, and then one day we wake up as realize that our rigidity has separated us from that which we really want . . . a relationship with our family, friends, and God.  And, sometimes we are like the father—loving, caring, and wanting to please our children—we bend over backwards, break the mores of our times, and ship off our children into the world. Then we wake up one day and discover that we have lost that which we loved.  Yeah, we get lost and often it is not even on purpose . . . it just happens.

Yet, Jesus wants us to know—indirectly, mind you, through his parable-telling to the Pharisees and teachers—that the lost will be found and will be welcomed back.  And, he wants us to know it does not matter how “lost” a person might be—no matter how wicked and bad he or she might be, the lost will be welcomed back.  Remember, Jesus is friends with the sinners to the point that it does not bother him to be among them even to the place of intimacy of breaking bread with them.  

That is the “good news”!  There is plenty of room for all of us prodigals.  We are all welcomed to the table.  There are a lot of people who probably would not want to be friends with me, but I am thankful that Jesus is not one of them.

One of the characters that we often forget about in any story is the person who is telling the story . . . we forget the storyteller.  Remember when I asked you which of the characters in the story you would identify with . . . did any of you say, “Jesus”?  Jesus is the one who tells these parables . . . Jesus is the one responding to the accusations of the Pharisees and teachers of the law . . . Jesus is the one who is living what he is telling.  Jesus is the one who welcomes the prodigals back home again . . . all of the prodigals.  Since we are all prodigals of one kind or another, Jesus welcomes us.  Shouldn’t we all?  Amen.

And, the Rest of the Story?

Nowhere in the New Testament does it tell us the “rest of the story” as Paul Harvey used to say it.  We never learn how the story ends.  The prodigal son returns . . . the father throws him a humdinger of a party to welcome him home . . . the older son throws a hissy fit . . . and that is it!  The story is done.  Inquiring minds want to know, what happened next?

Did the youngest son stick to the straight and narrow?  Did the oldest son carry his grudge to the Hatfield and McCoy’s level?  Did the father still love them both even if the reprieve was brief and everyone returned to their old behaviors?  Did the neighbors still point their fingers and whisper?  How did things end up?

Next week I drive down to Colorado to pick the oldest son and bring him to Montana where he will be starting a new job at the start of November.  The oldest son has been the prodigal our lives since he graduated high school and moved away.  He would tell you that his experiences over the past six to seven years were fairly reflective of the youngest son in the story of the prodigal son.  He would readily admit that he did more than his fair share of sowing wild oats and paying the consequences of those actions.  He would also tell you that he has learned a lot of tough lessons.  He has caused his mother and father more than a little heartbreak through it all, but we have always left the door open for him to come home—figuratively and literally.  Now, the time has come and he is returning home.

I think that this has been one of those decisions for him that pulled him in a lot of different directions.  On the one hand, he wants to come home and be with his family; on the other hand, there are still a lot of loose ends that won’t be tied up when he slams that door behind him.  At this point in his life he believes that this is the best thing that he can do as he continues on this new journey he began about six months ago.  At home he will have the love and support of his family.

But it won’t be easy.

It won’t be easy because there is always the past that hangs around like a shadow that can’t be shook . . . always waiting to rear its ugly head and bite him in the rear.  It won’t be easy because it will be a whole new experience that at times will be frustrating.  In times of frustration there is safety in going back to that which is familiar and comfortable . . . going back to the past.  There are issues of trust no matter how many reassuring words are spoken by those who love him . . . as it is for him, so it is for the family who loves him.  It is easy to revert back to the past when things get messed up.  The journey is just beginning and there are many paths—forward and backward—that he could choose to travel down.  And, yet, the prodigal returns and no one is quite sure how the story is going to end . . . we have never been told.

Like most people I want to believe that the story of the prodigal ended with a “happily ever after”, but I am also a realist.  Life is never as smooth as it is in stories or movies; there are bumps along the way.  Because of that I have a sense of wariness of what the future will bring for the story.  I think that all parents do when it comes to their children no matter what their situations . . . we worry about their futures . . . worry about their happiness . . . their success.  We only want the best for them.  So, we worry and wonder how the story will end.

As our oldest child returns to the fold, I can only deal with the present part of the story.  The prodigal has come a long ways in the past six months.  He has done much to straighten out his life and determine what his priorities are.  He has done well and, both his mother and I are quite proud of him.  The story is slowly leaning towards that “happily ever after” ending, but we have a long ways to go.  For now, we are glad to have him coming home . . . and that is enough for now.

Maybe there was a reason for the writer of the story not to tell us the rest of the story . . . maybe the point of the story--to step into the shoes of those involved and to stand before that great mystery of “what next?”  To discover that real faith begins at that point. 

We welcome the prodigal home.  We embrace him and shower him with our love.  Now what?  Faith . . . I have faith in him, I have faith in God.  My prayer is simple for all of us as we stand at the nexus of the story: “Thy will be done.”  We have to start somewhere and together we start here.