Lost Children Found - Lent 4C

Imagine that … welcoming sinners and eating with them! What will Jesus think of next? Today’s Gospel reading is an edited portion of a series of three parables Jesus tells in a row: the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost sons. Notice I said “sons” … or better yet, “children.” We know this parable by its nickname – the Prodigal Son. But this nickname is a horrible disservice to the story. It can cause us to stop with the seemingly “happy ending” of the younger son’s return and ignore the real scandal and discomfort of the older son’s response so let’s remember these nicknames were overlaid onto the parables at a much later date and are rarely helpful. I suggest we rename this story “the lost children and the misunderstood father” – but allow me to give you an introductory disclaimer.

First, this story is not about parenting techniques. It is a parable of God’s economy of grace – that is, how the unmerited, unearned mercy and love of God is poured out on all of humanity. Second, be prepared to be unnerved by this story. While it is 2,000 years old, it drives to the heart of the problem of the human condition in presenting a continuum of human behavior and belief, the polar ends being typified by the older and younger sons. You will see yourselves in this … and you very well may not like what I have to say today. Believe me that I am preaching this as much for the dark shadow side of myself as I do for you today. I do so because I firmly believe in the power of God’s grace and mercy to heal our collectively wounded younger and older children.

There was a man who had two sons and the younger said, ‘Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’ This sounds like a demand of impudence and perhaps it is. It’s worth noting, however, that if one lived to a “certain age” in first century Palestine, distributing the estate while one was still living was not out of the ordinary. It was, in fact, the ancient equivalent of social security. A father would distribute his holdings (property, flocks, herds, small business) to his sons and customarily the oldest son would receive a “double portion” so as to be able to provide for his aging parents who would come to live with him. We really don’t operate that way in our country and I think the only remote equivalent we have is the moment every adult child with an aging parent dreads – the day when we have to ask mom or dad to hand over the car keys because it’s just no longer safe for them to drive. Maybe this was what was going on here – the younger son telling his father it’s time to turn things over … or not. Either way, the father complies and divides his property between them.

A few days later, the younger son takes all he now owns and goes off to a far country and squanders it all. I love the Greek here – it says he “scattered his substance” on a “riotous life.” It’s more than just the money. He’s blown it all epically so when the famine comes, he’s in trouble and now we have a “nice Jewish boy” feeding pigs … and not just feeding pigs but looking at what they are eating and thinking, “Hey, that looks pretty good.” How low can you go?

Addicts and alcoholics have taught us the concept of “hitting bottom” – that point of desperation where you face what your addiction has done to you and are ready to do absolutely anything to stop the insanity. Everyone is addicted – absolutely everyone. The salient questions are: “To what am I addicted?” and “How deadly are they?” The younger son is addicted to his rebelliousness and living life on his terms come hell or high water. That should sound pretty familiar to any honest alcoholics or addicts here in the room today. But he now knows his rebelliousness and wanton selfishness has tanked his life. Just a few weeks ago, I heard the best definition of “hitting bottom” from Mike, one of our AAs in the Wednesday meeting. He said, “You hit bottom when you put down the shovel.” The younger son puts down the shovel and, in the parlance of AA, does a 4th step – makes a searching and fearless moral inventory. He sees his condition and takes responsibility for it: he has sinned before heaven and his father and is not worthy to be called “son.” Now admittedly, he still sounds a bit conniving insofar as the hook about “treat me like one of your hired hands.” Maybe it is, or maybe he’s humbling himself in being willing to take the place of a slave and he’s giving up all thoughts of entitlement. Either way, he decides to go home and we can only imagine his dread – what will await him when he arrives? Will it rejection or even more condemnation?

When he arrives, his father sees him and runs out to meet him. That’s scandalous to a society based in honor and shame! No father with a shred of dignity would do that! The younger son blurts out, “I have sinned before heaven and you and am not worthy to be called your son.” Forget that part about treat me as a hired hand … he’s doing his fifth step right here – “Admitted to God, ourselves and another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.” And we know the rest … the party breaks out and the son is forgiven, the relationship reconciled, and this younger son is restored to his place in the family.

If the story ended here, we might think they “all lived happily ever after,” but the story doesn’t end here. The older son sees the commotion and finds out that his screw off younger brother came home and he is mad. When their father comes out and tries to reason with the older son and argument ensues. He enumerates how he has worked “like a slave” for dear old dad and followed all the rules – and dad never threw him a party! Dad took him for granted.

You see the eldest son is addicted too. His is the more insidious addiction. He is addicted to his morals and his deeply held belief in a meritocracy. Now meritocracy as I’m defining it here is the belief that hard work will be rewarded. It’s the quid pro quo system of rewards and punishments which is always the system human beings put into place, no matter what culture we belong to or what our religious beliefs are. Luther called this “works righteousness” and it is the basis of the Protestant work ethic. Work hard, play by the rules, and you will be rewarded. Slack off, screw up, and you will be punished – often mercilessly. We are hard wired for this kind of thinking and we overlay it onto every aspect of our lives. Judicial systems, business models, schools and we even try to make it true in the church. In his book “Breathing Under Water: Spirituality and the 12 Steps”, Fr. Richard Rohr points out that the system of meritocracy demands personal sacrifice and this becomes the basis of scoring points, judging ourselves and others, and the root of our deepest resentments. This is the oldest son’s addiction! Listen to his language: “I have worked like a slave for you” is “look at the sacrifices I have made for you!” “I have never disobeyed your command” is “I have followed the rules!” Dad’s treatment of the younger son is violating all rules of fairness. He’s showing grace and mercy to someone who does not deserve it! He hasn’t earned it! And the deepest darkest dread of this addiction is this: that grace is a zero sum game and if Dad shows grace to that screw up younger son … there will be nothing for me.

I admit I am the oldest child in my family of origin. I know for a fact that my younger sister got away with stuff I never would have been able to get away with. Younger children … thank those older siblings of yours … they wore mom and dad out so you could raise hell! But the truth is, we all have both of these archetypal children in each of us. Remember I said they were on a continuum. Jesus’ story points out that both of these children are spiritually bankrupt – both of them! The younger one figures it out while the older one doesn’t. I believe our society today has much more in common with the older son. We are addicted to our meritocracy and belief in systems of punishments and rewards. We are addicted to keeping score on others instead of showing love because keeping score on others faults allows us to float through life on feelings of moral superiority: in essence, building ourselves up by keeping those “younger children” humiliated and down. We like the idea of the forgiving father when we find ourselves in the “younger child” role, but we hate it when “those people” get forgiven … after all, they don’t deserve it.

The point of this parable is that both sides are spiritually dead – equally and unequivocally dead. The good news is the deep dread of both the younger and older sons is not true. The younger fears condemnation and the older fears there will be no grace for him. The father shows both of them their fears are unfounded. We’re familiar with why the younger’s fears are dashed, but let’s see how the older’s are likewise dispatched. The father says to the older son, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.” Remember the beginning of the story? The father “divided his property between them.” The customary division was likely made and the older son got the double-portion … he is now in charge of everything. You want a party? Great! Throw one … nothing is stopping you!! You’ve always been here; you are always a part of me and I of you. Grace is not a zero-sum game … there is plenty for you too.

This story comes on Laetare Sunday – a day where Lent takes a turn. The first three weeks are focused on our “searching and fearless moral inventory” and now we come to the admission to God, ourselves and perhaps even to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs. Through the lens of either being the younger son or the older in this story, where are you? Is it time to lay down some form of rebelliousness? Christ promises you can do that without fear of condemnation. Is it time to stop score keeping and measuring worthiness? Christ promises there is grace enough for you. Isn't it time to put down the shovel?