St. Charles’ Episcopal Church – St. Charles 

Sunday, March 18, 2007 – Lent 4 Year C

Joshua (4:19-24) 5:9-12; 2 Corinthians 5:17-21; Luke 15:11-32

The Rev. Elizabeth G. Meade

I met a prodigal son last week. His name is Jesse and he’s a patient at the hospital where I’m a chaplain. And like the prodigal son in the gospel today, Jesse is living far from his Father’s house, far from his parents’ expectations, I imagine. Jesse’s chart said he had been uncommunicative and combative with the nurses and physicians. The chart also said Jesse had been playing, literally and figuratively, with dynamite – and in playing with dynamite, he quite literally blew his foot off. But what interested me most about Jesse, and the reason I had to visit him, was that there was no next of kin listed in his chart. In fact, all over his chart were admonitions, “Patient does NOT want any contact with his parents.” “Parents are not to be admitted to patient’s unit.” But more about Jesse in a moment.

It seems to me that, as we are in the darkest part of the Lenten season, we might need some Good News – and we certainly hear it in today’s readings. Today’s stories are all about COMING HOME. The Old Testament lesson tells the story of the people Israel returning to the Land the Lord had promised them, a land flowing with milk and honey. They had wandered in the desert for 40 years following their release from Egypt, and have just had their last meal of manna. Tomorrow they will eat the food of the land. THEY ARE COMING HOME. And today’s Gospel reading is the story of a “bad boy” son, who had taken off and squandered his inheritance, and is now COMING HOME.

Scripture is full of these COMING HOME stories. There is the story of Naomi and Ruth leaving Moab to return to Naomi’s home town of Bethlehem. And the poignant story of Nehemiah returning home to Jerusalem from Babylon, determined to rebuild the crumbling walls of his beloved city. And of course there’s the story of Jesus, just before his crucifixion, telling his distraught disciples that He is going home to His Father’s house to prepare a place for them. God’s desire, it seems, throughout scripture, is to remind us that we CAN come home again. No matter how far we have strayed, no matter how dark our sins may have been, God is there for us, arms wide open. In this season of Lent, as we consider how far we have strayed, we must also be ready to consider the Lord’s invitation to COME HOME.

The first thing we need to remember about the parable of the Prodigal Son is that it never happened. “What?” you may say, “It’s in the Bible! It MUST have happened!” This is a story that Jesus tells – to make a point. It’s not an actual scene from His life. In its context we see that the Scribes and the Pharisees are grumbling about the fact that Jesus is “welcoming” tax collectors and sinners. Jesus answers them by telling the parables of the Lost Sheep, the Lost Coin, and the “Lost” Son. In telling this story, Jesus is trying to get the Pharisees to see the true nature of God, His Father.

Which brings me to my second point. This story really shouldn’t be called The Prodigal Son, because the parable actually says more about the Father’s response to his son than it does about the son’s outrageous behavior. In fact, there are really TWO sons who have become lost – and we wonder which one really is the prodigal one! Often when this gospel reading comes around, preachers will invite us to put ourselves in the story – and ask us which character we most identify with. “Are you the Prodigal?” they ask, “Or are you the Elder brother?”

And perhaps you’ve considered this. Perhaps you were the child in your family who most distanced yourself from your parents: took the most risks, strayed the farthest. Or perhaps you are, like me, the eldest child who took pride in the fact that you stayed pretty close to home, never strayed much. But instead of going down that path this week, perhaps God is inviting us to a nobler task. Perhaps God is inviting us to notice The Father. How he acts. What he says – and doesn’t say. Perhaps the task this week is to accept God’s invitation to try on the mantle of the Father. What would that look like? How would modeling our behavior after the Father’ change us?

After some background on the son’s transgressions, the text launches us right into the action. The text reads:

“But while he was still far off, his Father saw him and was filled with compassion. He ran to him, and put his arms around him and kissed him.” (Luke 15:20) Notice the father utters NOT A WORD to his wayward son. Not a word!

He just runs to him and envelops him and kisses him. The son tries to speak, tries to make his plea for forgiveness, but the man only shouts to his servants: “Bring the best robe, a ring for his fingers, sandals for his feet! And kill the fatted calf – let us celebrate!”

What a surprise for the young man! How utterly overwhelming! He had envisioned himself crawling back home and being relegated to the servants’ quarters, and suddenly he finds himself restored to his rightful position of son. Talk about good luck! The Father’s love for his son has erased all his transgressions. The wayward son doesn’t even have a chance to beg for forgiveness! God is that way. Jesus has paid the price for us, blotted out our sins. We just have to head toward home.

Does this sound too good to be true?

After years of sinning, perhaps even outrageous sinning – sins you hope God isn’t aware of – but of course he is – and you turn to God, expecting the worst – and God wordlessly RUNS to you, and EMBRACES you and wipes the slate clean. As Christians, that is what we must come to believe. Because it’s is true. Our Father loves us – adores us – with reckless abandon. Some of us have no trouble with the Virgin Birth, or the Resurrection, but we stumble when it comes to this. How can God love me that much? Yet, it’s true. God’s love and mercy and forgiveness is true for all of us. Saints and sinners alike. Just turn towards home. We don’t even need to “be” home yet – we just need to be on the road and God will see us coming and run to us – rejoicing!.

Now, let’s look for a minute at that older brother. He hears from a servant that his lost brother has returned and there’s a fatted calf on the spit and a party going on – and that older brother comes STORMING over to the house – furious. He refuses to go into the party. He just wants to give his father a piece of his mind. Here’s where the Father’s love gets interesting. Notice what the Father does. The elder son refuses to go into the party, so the Father comes to him! He comes outside. Just as he had met his wayward son on the road where he WAS, so too the Father meets the elder son where he IS. He doesn’t say, “Come inside, calm down, let’s talk.” The father comes outside where the son stands fuming. “All these years, I have been working like a slave for you! You’ve never even given me a fatted calf!” How many times have we been the elder brother or sister? How many times has that little green-eyed monster ranted and raved when someone else received preferential treatment that we felt we deserved more? Yet God comes right to us – even in the face of our own pettiness. He comes to us and says: “All that I have is yours.”

That’s God’s economy. The words: “All that I have is yours” describe for us the inexhaustible treasure trove of God’s infinite love and mercy – available and offered freely to the whole world. Our sins have been forgiven even before we confess. Jesus did that for us. “All that I have is yours – all of it.” That’s the Good News of the Gospel. It’s pointless to look at what type of sinners we are.. It’s pointless to try to figure out if we’re the prodigal son or the elder brother. And it’s pointless to wallow around moaning about our unworthiness and ruminating on our sinful pasts. What we are called to do is fall down and worship this Father – and to try and live into his example of forgiveness and grace. Jesus taught us this when he taught us to say these words: “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Come home, God says. “All I have is yours.”

I met a prodigal son last week – and I’ve told you his name is Jesse. He’s a patient at the hospital where I’m a chaplain. I told you he was uncooperative and combative and wanted no contact with his parents. Being the oldest of three siblings, I KNOW I have strong “older sibling” tendencies, so I prayed before I entered his room that I could somehow shed my “judgment” mantle and somehow become for Jesse the Parent figure that he refuses to see: the unconditional lover, the forgiver, the one who doesn’t lecture the wayward son upon his return.

I entered his room. I waited for the combativeness. I waited for the anger. I waited for the sullenness.

The meeting was uneventful. Jesse told me that he didn’t want advanced directives, nor did he want his parents named in a living will. I told him I was fine with that. He looked surprised. Then I asked him about his tattoos – and about his body piercings. Each one came with a story, so I sat and listened for a while.

Later that night, I was on Jesse’s floor again, having visited with another patient. Jesse walked out into the hall, clad only in boxer shorts – his body art and piercings in full view – and supported by 6 friends – all equally pierced and tattooed. They were a motley crew, and looked at me with open disdain and with suspicion. The nurses glanced at them disapprovingly as well. Again, I was aware of my own judgments, my own “elder brother” lenses, until Jesse gave me a big goofy grin. “Hi ya, Chap,” he said, grinning from ear to ear, “Me and my friends are gonna bust outta here.” “I sure hope not,” I said, smiling and shaking my finger at him in jest. He grinned all the more broadly. “Nah,” he said, “Not really.”

We never know in Jesus’ story whether the older brother decided to come to the party. And I don’t know if Jesse ever will, but in knowing there is at least one adult out there who liked him and didn’t judge him, I hope Jesse will turn the corner and head home. Wordlessly, all that I tried to convey was: “Welcome home, Jesse.”

I don’t know if that’s enough, but it’s up to God now – and I leave it in His hands.

As we progress toward Calvary and Easter in the coming weeks, there are two things I would invite each of us to consider.

One: Consider accepting God’s “no strings attached” forgiveness for yourself. It’s free.

 And secondly, look around you – and find someone who may not yet have decided to come home – and be, for that person, the outstretched arms that they so desperately need.

We are each called to be like Jesus, who came to give bread to the world.

Amen.