It seems at first glance to be a story of opposites. To begin with, Jesus’ audience is a mixed crowd of insiders and outsiders. There are the religious leaders, who wish to distance themselves from the kind of people Jesus keeps hanging around with. All these tax collectors and sinners keep gathering near to listen to Jesus, and the religious leaders cannot understand why Jesus not only welcomes them, but eats with them, too. Perhaps Jesus should be more concerned for his reputation, as they are.
In the parable, the older brother, too, wishes to distance himself from his reckless and wasteful younger brother. By contrast, he is the good one, the one who stayed and worked and did his duty. But as the story goes on, it seems that, actually, the two brothers have quite a bit in common: both lost, both hungry, both in need of connection, and care, and grace.
The parable begins with the younger son separating himself from the family. In a bold, reckless move, he demands his inheritance from his father, and rather than tell him no, the father does it! He divides his wealth and the younger son packs his things and travels to a distant land.
Though the older son stays behind, dutifully working, he, too, ends up lost and separated from his family. At the end of the parable, we find him slack-jawed, surprise quickly bubbling into anger as he looks in from the outside at a lavish party - with feasting, and music, and dancing - prepared without the least consideration for him. Though his father comes out to meet him in the yard, to comfort him and plead with him, the parable ends with the older son still outside, deciding what to do.
I wonder - who is the lost one, really?
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| Photo by Ishan Gupta on Unsplash |
Now the younger son has the deep misfortune of running out of money right before the region is beset by severe famine. Whatever friends he thought he made as he blew through his inheritance disappeared when the money did. Even when he finds a job, it’s not enough, and he is so hungry that he finds himself looking longingly at the pig slop - but no one gives him anything. It is his hunger that leads him to hatch a plan, as he pictures his father’s hired hands with plenty to eat - bread enough and to spare.
While the older son may have enough bread, he is hungry, too. He’s hungry for recognition, for appreciation. He’s hungry for acknowledgement of his hard work and years of loyalty, and all he’s sacrificed for duty. Yes, he may have stayed, but somehow he still felt unseen by his father. There he was, isolated, with just his resentment and longing to gnaw on, year after year. When his brother finally slinks home, their father is quick to prepare the fatted calf for a feast, but all those years the older son worked and worked? His father didn’t give him even a young goat to share with his friends. But perhaps it was always his for the taking?
I wonder - who is the hungry one, really?
After realizing that perhaps not all his bridges had been burned, the younger son prepares a speech. He may have messed up, no longer worthy, in his mind, to be called a son, but it doesn’t matter; even work as a hired hand will get him what he wants - a full belly and a warm place to sleep. Perhaps he was sincere, or maybe just manipulative, but that doesn’t matter, either. His father is there, running to meet him, and before the younger son can even launch into his speech and ask to be treated as a hired hand, he is caught by surprise as his father’s arms wrap around him in a hug. A robe and sandals and a ring are brought out, the fatted calf prepared, and the neighbors invited to the party. Worthy or not, repentant or not, the father rejoices over his son - no longer dead, but alive. No longer lost, but found.
The older son, too, is caught by surprise, though it’s not a good surprise. Tired and dirty from working in the fields, he stops short as he approaches the house, music and laughter filtering through the windows. Confused, he calls to a slave and asks what’s going on. “Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf because he has got him back safe and sound.”
When his father comes out to plead with him, the older son wants none of it. The dam bursts and years of resentment and anger come pouring out. His accusations show his hurt - working like a slave, always obedient, and for what? But in his hurt, it seems that he’s forgotten what it means to be a son. It’s not his obedience or good works that have earned his place in the household. Instead, he belongs to his family because of his connection to his father, and whether he likes it or not, his brother. “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.”
I wonder - will both sons come to life?
I don’t know about you, but as an oldest child and only daughter and cradle Lutheran it is impossible for me to hear this story and not identify with the older son, and, by extension, the religious leaders. The resentment, the desire for recognition, the wish for Jesus to just come around with those gold stars already - I get it!
But for as much as Lutherans love to talk about grace, I wonder if often our first thought is that grace is really wonderful for, you know, other people. But not too much grace, right? Of course we know it’s not our works that save us…but we sure do try to get most of the way there on our own. As we hear this story of two sons, I wonder if the difference isn’t that only one is lost, but rather, that only one knows it.
Despite our attempts to distance ourselves from sin, we are confronted daily with not only our own failures and shortcomings, but the sin of the world in which we live. Oppressive systems, insatiable consumption, blatant inequities - we cannot escape it. We cannot obey or work or buy our way into right relationship with God or with one another - it’s just not possible.
The good news is that God runs to meet us while we are still far off. God does not care if we think ourselves worthy to be called God’s children, because it’s not about being worthy, it’s about love.
In the waters of baptism we are welcomed into God’s embrace, showered with grace, and called children of God. Dying and rising with Christ, we are clothed in his righteousness - the very best robe.
We the hungry ones are beckoned to come to the communion table, the most wonderful celebration feast. In this meal we are united with Christ and one another. In this meal we receive the very body and blood of Jesus, given and shed for you. At this celebration there is music, and sometimes dancing. So come, celebrate and rejoice - there is a place at the table for you, a place in the household for you. Celebrate and rejoice! We the lost – all of us – have been found.
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