First, read the text, Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32.
Here’s the sermon:
The door swings open and your loved ones are all there – “Surprise! Congratulations!” they yell, faces looking expectantly at you. Yes – this is definitely for you – but why? You look up at the banner hanging across the room – “Congratulations on your Nobel Peace Prize nomination!” Another banner says – “Congratulations on your PhD in Astrophysics!”
But before you can open your mouth to try to correct this obvious mistake, you’re whisked off, introduced to new friends and reunited with old, your cup is filled and your plate is heavy. You keep trying to tell people – “I don’t deserve this” – because in fact the only reason you came was out of guilt, or a feeling of last resort. You still have that crumpled piece of paper in your pocket, with your notes on what you should say. You’d been carrying such a heavy load of guilt. You hadn’t talked to the host in forever, and life had been tough and you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up the phone. All these people here – you’d done them wrong. So you’d expected to knock gingerly on their doors, apologize, watching their faces to see if they would really accept it. Would you mean it? Well. . .
Or maybe you’re more like the other brother, and you’re just tired from trying so hard, but likewise know that you don’t deserve all this.
Every time you feel that pang of guilt and cast your eyes down to your drink, you gather the strength to admit it all and turn to the host and march yourself right out of there, just before you can turn to leave the host keeps running up to you and giving you a big hug – looking you in the eye and saying, “this is for you. I love you – relax, enjoy. Later, we’ve got some work to do together. I’m so glad you’re here!”
An old friend leans in the corner, giving you some side eye over his drink – and you can read his lips as he says to someone nearby – “this is ridiculous – they don’t deserve it.” The host interrupts, gives them a big hug too- “so what! You’re missing the point.”
Knowing some of you I know how unimaginable this story would be. Some of you would’ve ripped down the banner touting your false accolades, hated being the center of attention, insisted instead to roll up your sleeves and wash dishes, refill the food and drink. But you’ve got to remember that you are guest, not host, of the party.
This story might seem far-fetched, but it’s not too different from what we do here, is it?
Although we only read this story in church once every three years, it’s a familiar one. While this parable is best known as the “prodigal son,” many have encouraged that a better title might be the “forgiving father,” “lost son,” “two brothers,” or “loving father,” my favorite title for this parable would be one I heard Matt Skinner share on a podcast – the “party for an [idiot].” (Skinner used a different word, but anyway… from Working Preacher Podcast #655)
I love this. Because I think we regard the banner just as skeptically that says “child of God” or “forgiven of all your sins.” The confusion comes when we think we’ve earned them, like one could earn a degree or a peace prize. This is a party for an idiot! Or as Daniel Erlander puts it in tales of the pointless people, one of them cried out “this party is pointless!” The people said, “amen.”
Notice that this gospel reading isn’t one continuous passage? There’s the intro, but then it skips a bunch of verses. In those verses, Jesus tells two other parables, and this one is third, the kicker to drive home a point. Knowing this context clarifies the meaning of this parable, because the prior two parables are the lost sheep – you know, leave the 99 to look for the one, and the lost coin – same kind of thing. So here, we have the parable of the lost brother. Or is it brothers, plural?
One of the themes of the season of Lent is repentance – and that’s probably why this passage is read during this time of year. In the two previous parables, the word repentance is specifically used, and Jesus ends each by saying how much joy God has at the repentance of a sinner.
But this parable doesn’t mention repentance at all. In fact, whereas the parable is extremely detailed in some ways, it’s ambiguous in others. Is the younger brother sincere in his words of apology to his father? Are we? Yes – there’s certainly a spectrum, times we feel deeply contrite and humbled, and other times we perhaps mumble out the words or wonder if it is true – it doesn’t make any sense. The older brother doesn’t even seem to attempt repentance. They’re both lost. Does either one truly come around?
David Lose writes, “God doesn’t really care in the end. Oh, of course God hopes we repent and learn and love each other better over time. But whether we do or not isn’t, finally, the issue. The issue is that God loves us so much God doesn’t wait for our confessions to forgive us. God doesn’t wait for us to come to our senses to love us. God doesn’t wait for sincerity to redeem us. God just comes after us, running toward us pell-mell like that desperate, crazy-in-love, just-glad-we’re-home father.” (Lose, Deliberate Ambiguity)
It’s a party for an idiot -and good news -we’re all the idiot!
“Luke tells a deliberately ambiguous story so as to be unambiguously clear about God’s determination to go after and win back all of God’s children, whether they’re truly repentant or not, whether they’re deserving or not, whether they even want to be saved or not.” (ibid.)
It’s not because of who we are, but because of who God is.
It might seem ridiculous. You might think God a sucker. But you realize God doesn’t care if you think that, but that God seems heaven-bent on this party – that it’s the only way to live. This party keeps going on around the world, despite changing culture, corrupt institutions, and all the brokenness around it.
And I’ve seen you the younger brother be changed by the waves of realization that no one is judging you. Encouraged by others, you start working in the fields again. This time not out of obligation but joy, delighting in your dirty hands, the simplicity of sharing community and serving together. I’ve seen the older brother’s conversion too, that grip on control and reason loosen by life’s curveballs and the fact that as you keep trying to show God your report card, God just keeps ignoring it and hugging you. I’ve seen how these brothers become instead co-hosts of the party – welcoming others, seeing them go through the same reactions to such unmerited love. It’s the truth that continues to crack open our hearts – that the most meaningful things in the world have nothing to do with merit – including, certainly, God’s love. Thanks be to God. Amen.
A Wideness in God's Mercy 