March 27, 2022 – Fourth Sunday of Lent – Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32
First Trinity Lutheran Church, Indianapolis, IN

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Parents, are you a pushover, or all about tough-love? Or does it depend on which kid? Because there’s always a favorite. My parents had favorites. I have two brothers and a sister, and one of our brothers was my mom’s favorite, and he knew just how to work her last nerve. She’d scream and shout, but he still got away with a lot. Me? Not so much. I’m sure my other siblings have plenty of stories too. Of course, Mom would always deny it, but we all knew the truth. She loved all of us, but he always got that little bit of extra special treatment.

I thought of that this week with our gospel reading. It’s the story of 2 siblings and their dad. We call it the Parable of the Prodigal Son. Ever notice that we don’t call it the Parable of the Pushover Dad or the Jealous Older Brother? Because the prodigal’s our favorite. He’s such a trainwreck. He demands his inheritance from Daddy. Which was a deal-breaker. In Palestinian culture, this was like saying “I wish you were dead.” You’d lose all respect. If word got out, the whole community ostracized you. It’s still true today. He knew, but he did it anyway. Kids, am I right? Yet Dad gives it! Who’s the favorite? Then he runs off into “dissolute living.” Let’s call it “fast living.” A whole lot of no good. Of course he squanders it all and he’s desperate. So he hires himself out for the most repulsive job possible – feeding pigs. Because remember, Jesus is talking to Jewish folks, so pigs are dirty. And that filthy slop pit is where the miracle happens. “Why am I doing this? Dad feeds all his hired hands, but I’m starving.” He crawls back home and Dad runs to meet him with hugs and kisses. Happy ending. Who doesn’t love that story? Not just the happy ending, but don’t we love seeing folks hit bottom and wise up? Except, that’s a hell of a way to learn. And does everyone hit bottom? No. Yet we still do tough love anyway. We’re so determined to force an outcome. And the prodigal sounds repentant right now, but given time, how often do prodigals relapse? Sobriety’s hard. So, I’m not sure that’s such a great story.

Now, a lot of other folks focus on the older brother instead. He’s judgmental. He’s jealous. He resents Dad because it’s not fair. He yells, “THIS SON OF YOURS (i.e. not my brother anymore) devours your property in sin, yet you kill the fatted calf for him? I’ve slaved for you my whole life and you didn’t even give me a scrawny goat!” He’s ready to burn it all down. Yet, Dad is just as gracious and forgiving. “Son, you were always with me, and all that is mine is yours.” Literally, because son #2 burned up the rest. So clearly, grace must the way. Cutting folks off doesn’t fix relationships. I mean, when did excommunication ever stop anyone? When they excommunicated Martin Luther we got the Lutheran church. And of course, we hate judgy people. Except we do it too. After all, St. Paul tells us not to associate with folks who are sexually immoral, greedy, idolaters, or drunkards. Don’t even eat with them. Because it might rub off. So who’s right?

It’s funny that we obsess on the brothers. We think Dad must represent God’s grace. Slow to anger. Abounding in steadfast love. But Dad’s kind of problematic here. He’s an enabler. He had to know what was going to happen, but he caved. What kind of love is that? So who’s the real root of the problem? The prodigal son, or the prodigal father who just wants to avoid conflict.

But here’s the thing. God’s grace is problematic too. The older son shows that doing the right thing guarantees nothing. Folks are still prodigal and get a pass for it. We hate that, because we want a God who rewards our good works. Why should we toil when other folks keep getting away with murder? Sure, we tell ourselves that God won’t let evil pass, but is that what we see in the world? No. We don’t. Of course, this prodigal pays for his sin. He hits bottom the way we wish everyone would. Except a lot of folks never do. And what kind of a loving God lets it go that far? Maybe the kind of God that placed a wager with Satan on Job’s righteousness, and left him in ashes and shards. The kind of God that lets very bad things happen to the most faithful people and won’t answer our questions. So I wonder, if God were dead, could we tell the difference?

The good news is that we can tell the difference. Because this God so loved the world as to give us Jesus, the only begotten son, not to condemn the world, but to save it. Though Jesus went through hell. Mocked and beaten and died on a cross. Yet, still he rose, in the fulfillment of every promise that God ever made, to a bunch of prodigal folks like you and me. Because Jesus knows we don’t understand what real grace looks like. Our grace has limits and conditions. If we’re lucky we might get a pass this time, but next time hopes for too much. Until we forget, and then we’re just out of luck. And we always seem to forget. But that’s not real grace. Jesus knows he has to give us something everlasting and truly unconditional. So he freely gives us his own body and blood, even though we take it for granted. Even though we fall back into old patterns. Because Jesus is the most prodigal one of all. The only thing Jesus really wants is us, and he’ll waste everything in heaven and earth to get us.

That’s how we find good news in this story. It’s the fact that we have any relationships at all is a miracle. And it comes from God. I mean, this isn’t how to be a good parent. Dad’s bad. He caves. He enables. But don’t we all? I mean, we’re scared to death of losing the folks we love. We want to do whatever it takes to hang on. To save them. God knows we have good intentions. But it’s not about love. It’s about power. And that feeling of having to to keep it all together no matter what will eventually kill you. It hurts like hell to let go, but at the end of the day all we can really do is commend them to God and trust that God will always abide with them as with us. But that they may just come back can only be the power of God made manifest in our powerlessness, and the celebration will be abundant.

Then there’s the older son. Folks want to write him off as ungrateful, but of course he’s angry. Dad never even gave him so much as a scrawny goat for all his obedience. All the prodigal did was show up, and Dad suddenly gives a huge party and tons of gifts. That’s not weird. Doesn’t that sound like the final straw? When you’ve been taken for granted your whole life. If you talk to enough oldest children you’ll hear some stories. So isn’t the real miracle that he stayed? How often have we taken others for granted? Sometimes it hurts when the Spirit teaches us gratitude, but what a gift when folks have stuck with us anyway. Not necessarily for the best reasons. Yet, even this is grace. A glimmer of the kingdom of God peeking in. Like maybe God really is reconciling the world to God’s own self. And that will be enough for us.