SERMON

SERMON—Luke 15: 1-3, 11b-32—Fourth Sunday in Lent—3/17&18/07—St. Paul

Grace to you and peace from God our Father = and the Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen.

= When I was in ninth grade, Mrs. Woods my English Teacher, made us read The Merchant of Venice. It was the first book of real depth that I had to read and refl= ect upon in my school experience. I can remember that it was an interesting story, but it was wrong, not because Shakespeare’s story was fictional and not true, but because Shakespe= are’s story was the wrong story for me at that time.

= We all attempt to make sense out of life through stories. If we can’t tell a story ab= out ourselves, then we are nothing more than a detached collection of fact, da= tes, and faces that stand for nothing significant. Every people makes sense of itself through certain master stories.

3D"*" &= nbsp; Romant= ic England—listened to Shakespeare.

3D"*" &= nbsp; Ancien= t Greece= —listened to the ‘Odyssey’—Homer’s tale of Odysseus who vent= ured on a wide, dark sea to a ‘far country.’

Jesus told another story—He told a st= ory of a father and two sons. In Jesus’ story, it was a son who left home, traveled to the ‘far country,’ and finally came to his senses and returned home. In Homer’s story, with the = father gone, it was the son, Telemachus, who realized that, with his old man away= on business for God knows how long, he must grow up and take charge of things= at home. Eventually, Odysseus r= eturns, but not before Telemachus has had to stand on his own two feet—which= the Greeks defined as wisdom.

= ; In Jesus’ story, the father waits for the son to come to his senses and= came back home—which Jesus defines as wisdom. The Greeks wondered what to= do when one is abandoned by the father. Jesus, good Jew that He was, pondered life as a problem of never be= ing able to be rid of the father.

= ; A younger son says, “Father, give me my inheritance.” In other words, drop dead. (There really is no other way to = put the old man’s will into effect. And the old man does just that.&nb= sp; Here we see an image of maturation which is most congenial to our society.

= ; America was built by immigrants, people w= ho left their parents to seek their fortunes in this ‘far country’ of = a New World. And they in turn taught their children that the only way to get any= where was to immigrate, to leave home, severe parental ties. This still happens in most famili= es of our time—our children may go to college, may get married, move to accommodate their vocation, or go into the military. Everybody is forced to abandon pa= rents in order to grow up.

Why is this the conventional American path = to wisdom?

<= span style=3D'font-family:Symbol;mso-fareast-font-family:Symbol;mso-bidi-font-f= amily: Symbol'> 3D"*" &= nbsp; Large corporations like IBM need workers that are willing to be mobile.

<= span style=3D'font-family:Symbol;mso-fareast-font-family:Symbol;mso-bidi-font-f= amily: Symbol'> 3D"*" &= nbsp; The ch= urch needs pastors to go where pastoral leadership is needed.=

<= span style=3D'font-family:Symbol;mso-fareast-font-family:Symbol;mso-bidi-font-f= amily: Symbol'> 3D"*" &= nbsp; You go= where your gifts can be used (I would say this is a stewardship issue right?)

<= span style=3D'font-family:Symbol;mso-fareast-font-family:Symbol;mso-bidi-font-f= amily: Symbol'> 3D"*" &= nbsp; And th= e list just keeps growing.

The in world in which we live tends to be very corporate and the cooperation requires people who will move at a moment’s notice, people who are trained to put everything else second such as family, tradition, friends, = values, place, to the demands of the company.&nbs= p; I remember when my wife was the senior pastor at First Lutheran in = Chambersburg and Letterkenny basically said if you= want a job you will go here or you will go here or you will not have a job.<= /o:p>

= Rootless, placeless people are more flexible than those who have a home and refuse to leave it. They can be better managed than those who must still answer to the old man.=

= But back to our story for today—Out in the ‘far country’ Jes= us says the boy engages in ‘loose living.’ Here, I want to pause just a mome= nt to allow your imaginations to work wit that phrase, ‘loose living.’ Though Jesus doesn’t , feel free to supply whatever forms of ‘loose living’ appeal to you—loose boys, loose girls, chocolate cake.=

= Loose living invariably appears more interesting in imagination than in reality.= Eventually it was hangover, empty pockets, wake up, Monday morning. Do you know someone who’s partying or boozing because there w= as something, someone pulling the strings?&n= bsp; In reality—‘loose living’ is often anything but ‘loose.’

Robert Capon in his book titled The Parab= les of Grace he retells this parable in an interesting story.

He began the story by telling everyone that his friend is a professor and his= son was at a nearby college, doing well in every area accept academics. One day the Dean called the boy i= n and said, “Perhaps you plan to spend your entire college career proving = that just because your old man succeeded in academics, you don’t have to.= But let me tell you, despite your= hell raising and class cutting, you ain’t free yet.

= And so the boy thinks to himself—“Wait a minute, I don’t hav= e to starve out here. I have a fa= ther a home.”

= And he turns back toward home—He has written a little speech for the occasion. “Now look Dad—Before your start yelling let me explain why she answered the ph= one when you call my room and Dad, er, Father, I mean I have sinned. I am unwo= rthy to be called your son. Treat= me as one of your hired servants.”

= But the father isn’t interested in speeches. “Take it easy, Howard,̶= 1; says the father.

“Save the flowery speeches for your application to law school. Come on in. I’ll show you a real party.= ”

= This is why this story has always been a shocker. We thought Jesus came to jack up = ethical standards, to put a bit more muscle into our moral fiber. Here is the homecoming of a ne= 217;er-do-well as a party. It isn’t w= hat we expect. We want the father t= o be gracious, but not overly so. Homecomings for prodigals are fine, when dressed in sackcloth and a= shes, not in $200.00 Italian loafers and a tux.= Our question is that of the older brother, “Is it fitting to = throw a party for a prodigal?”

= What we really want is this—

“Howard, glad that you’re back home. Now let’s do away with that earring, the tattoo can be remove= d and let’s have a bit more responsibility out of you. Go in, have good, balanced meal a= nd then let’s talk about finishing your application to law school. OK, Howard?”

But NO! That’s not what the parable is about, it’s about a party thrown by a father for a prodigal. Why does Jesus, tin telling this story expend more verses describing the party than on any oth= er single aspect in the story?

= Sisters and brothers, I remind you of the context. One day Jesus critics cried, “this man eats and drinks with sinners! What kind of Savior= are you?”

= You expect Jesus to back off and say, “but I’m going to redeem the= se whores and tax collectors! M= ake them straighten up, be more responsible, you know middle class like you and me.”

= No, He tells them that God loves to party with sinners, tells of a series of parties when a woman found a lost coin, a bash after finding a lost sheep, followed by the biggest, most questionable blowout of all, the party for t= he prodigal Son. So, “the= y began to make merry.” This i= s now the end of scene one.

= Now the music shifts from the Beach Boys to the Eastman Wind Ensemble and in c= omes, the Board of Evaluation—the Assistant Principal—the District Attorney—The Synodical Discipline committee—the Zoning committee—and they are all escorting their favorite character in the story—the older brother.

= Nostrils and flared, there are looks of indignation all around—“Music, Dancing, Levity—And on a Wednesday to boot! “ The older brother turns and= says to one of the servants—“What are you doing in a tux?”

= The servant replies—“Your kid brother’s home. The old-man has given everybody t= he night off and there’s a party.”

“A party?” Doesn’t = that old fool know that we’ve got turnips to dig? How does he expect me to keep down overhead when he goes and blows a couple grand on a party to welcome home = this son of his who blew his hard-earned money on whores?’

= One moment—I don’t believe Jesus said anything about whores, did he? Jesus said the younger s= on blew his money in the “far country” on “loose living.”<= span style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Perhaps all that means is that he= slept in late and ate high-fat snacks.

= But remember the older brothers statements: “See, what a good boy I am!” which is then immediately followed with—“See what this son of yours has done, harlots, whores!”

= The older son was angry—and he would not go to the party. The father comes out into the dar= kness and begs him to come to the party.

“Lo these many years have I served you,” he sneers to the old man, “turning your turnip business around, putting the books in the black= this older brother is big on keeping books) and you never gave ME a party.̶= 1;

“Come on in Ernest,” says the Father.&nbs= p; “So hat, you’re the biggest turnip grower in the state = of Pennsylvania. Big deal. At least your kid broth= er has been to the city and tasted the wine.&nbs= p; Come on in. Let’= ;s party.”

= Theologian Walter Brueggemann notes, as it turns out, the most interesting character = in the story is not the prodigal son or the older brother. It’s the father. He’s the real prodigal, in = that his love is extravagant, more excessive than either the younger brother= 217;s loose living or the older brother’s moral stance in life.=

= It’s a story about a parent who is excessive in his persistence to have a famil= y, an old man who meets us when we drag in from the far country after good times= go bad, or who comes out to the lonely darkness of our righteousness and begs= us to come in and party.

= I’m betting this story is about each one of us. This is a story about what it mea= ns to be claimed. The younger brot= her is well known to us in our families. He is the person who is always gasping for air, threatening to leav= e, and sometimes leaving. In ea= ch of us, there are times when there is a person who is gasping, reaching for so= me space, kicking at the bounds.

= The older brother is also known to us. He is the always dutiful and thoughtful one, caring, concerned, and eventually filled with great resentment.&= nbsp; Anybody gets tired of being responsible all the time. Every family has someone who carr= ies so much of the moral weight that after a while he or she just gets tied and f= eels used and sick of other people not shaping up.

But it’s mainly a story about the other, the father. Finally both sons must deal with = the father. On the one hand, he = gives both sons what they need. He= lets the younger son come back to the family.&= nbsp; The father also give to the older brother what he needs—reassurance: “You are always with me. Everything I’ve got is yours.”

= On the other hand, the father does not give the younger son what he wants. “Make me just one of your h= ired hands.” “No, I&#= 8217;m not going to do that. You wi= ll have to act responsible.” A= nd the older son wants a party. = 220;No, you’re not going to get a party.&nb= sp; What you’re going to get is everything, including your younger brother.”

= The story’s claim that God is the parent who refuses to stop silently wa= iting or earnestly pleading for you collides with modern self-understanding that= our lives are our possessions, like a new Chevy or Ford, to do with as we plea= se. We live in an age that has indoct= rinated us into thinking only of the individual.&= nbsp; We are the people who ask about Me, Me, and Me. We are taught that severing ties—ties with our parents—ties with values and the community = we have grown up in is the only way we can grow.

= The prodigal son lifts up a world where people have a home, where someone is determined to have us, and younger brothers and sisters who leave and rese= ntful older brothers and sisters who won’t leave, all with claims upon us.=

= The story is about the way to true wisdom—to the very meaning of what is means to be a faithful steward. Not the conventional modern tale of a journey deeper, ever deeper, into the recesses of your own ego, for that’s the way not to brow but to shri= nk, says the story.

= Rather, it’s a story about two boys who had a father, they were brothers. Without the Father there is no fa= mily, no story. The old man loves = both boys and is determined to love them in ways that do not abandon them to th= eir own devices. = ;

= We have a paradox here—true freedom is to know who owns you, claims you. If you don’t know= to whom you belong, who it is who awaits you, you’re apt to be the will= ing victim of anybody blowing through town who promises some means of overcomi= ng your sense of emptiness. Whe= n you stand before the powers of this world, the corporations, your peer group, = or even and IRS audit, it is freedom to know that they don’t own you.

= Please note that the story does not have an ending. We are not told it the younger br= other grew up and bought a family van of if the older brother ever came in and j= oined the party. There is no= doubt in my mind that they probably did not live happily there after (remember t= his is a true story.)

= Jesus doesn’t end the story because this is a story that you finish yourself. Each one of you ga= thered here today has his or her own ending to this story. I believe that the one on whom the Father is waiting, the one who He is begging to come in and party is YOU.<= o:p>

= I do not know the entire path any of you have traveled that has led you here= this day. I do not know fully whe= ther your life journey up to this point has been sad or glad. But I do know that this story say= s, you journey not alone. There is = One who names you, claims you, has plans for you, waits and prods, invites and ble= sses you.

Thanks be to God, this One sooner or later will have you.

AMEN.