The Estranged Son

The Parable of the Prodigal Son. Everybody knows the title of this morning’s Gospel reading. But titles are funny things. Jesus did not title his parables or any of his teachings. As far as I know he never preached from a written text or posted the titles of his upcoming sermons on the church signboard out front. Nor did he publish a bound collection of parables, all neatly titled with appropriate illustrations. The titles that we ascribe to stories in Scripture, especially Jesus’ parables, should come with warning labels that read something like… this title was added by mere mortals centuries after Jesus spoke these words and represents only one potential interpretation of Jesus’ meaning.

Generally, I do preach from a text, and I do title my sermons. Mostly to help me maintain clarity and focus, although that focus often shifts as I am writing. I do not say the titles to you. I hope that you will find your own, and I know that it will not always be the same as mine. This openness to a diversity of meaning or significance should be even truer for the actual stories of Scripture than it is for sermons.

The Parable of the Prodigal Son. It’s a story that could have many different titles for different people at different times. Who decided, after all, that it is the prodigal nature of the younger son that is the most important element in this parable? I understand that in German translations, this parable is often titled the parable of the "lost" son. Or, it seems to me we could argue that it is really more important, not that he was lost, but that he was later found. The parable of the found son. Or we might ask if Jesus’ parable really is meant to be primarily about the younger son. Most of the time I identify more with the older brother. I tend to follow the rules and resent those who get away with breaking them. So I might title Jesus’ story: the parable of the self-righteous, whining older sibling. On the other hand, if we are to look closely at Jesus’ own words, the first line of the parable suggests that it is really about the father. It is a story about a father… A father who had two sons.

When Jesus tells a parable, he tells an imaginary story. A story with no title, but one set in a time and in circumstances that were very familiar to his hearers. And he implies to those gathered around him, "Listen. Just listen. Put aside what you may expect me to say. Put aside what you think the story means. Just listen. Experience the story. Enter into the story. It is God’s story; and it is your story." That intersection of God’s story and our story is always there. Even for those of us who are removed from the time and setting in which Jesus spoke. The intersection between God’s story and our story is always there in Jesus’ parables. The intersection may be at a different point for different individuals or at a different point for us at different times of our lives. We may not all always have the same title, but we will always find ourselves in God’s story.

Reading and re-reading this morning’s parable from Luke’s gospel, one aspect of the story really troubled me. I saw in the younger son a glaring example of one of the things that I personally happen to think is "wrong with the world these days." The son seems to suffer no consequences for bad behavior, for making the wrong choices. What message is the father teaching his son? The boy takes half the family fortune, thumbs his nose at his father and brother, loses and squanders every penny, returns home… and is welcomed with a party. In fact, it seems like bad behavior is rewarded.

This young son is going to grow up to be the CEO of Enron or Adelphia or Tyco or Worldcom…

This is not only bad parenting; it is bad theology. Surely the church has always taught that we are responsible for our actions. God has given us free choice, and we are responsible when we make bad choices. Sin has consequences. The medieval church carried this concept to an absurd extreme in the elaborate system of codified penances and indulgences. Manuals for priests outlined the prescribed consequence, the fitting penance, for a long list of human transgressions. Prodigal dissolution of family resources would have been on that list. With a stiff penance. And although such a cookbook-style prescription of penances may not seem appropriate to us, surely some sort of penance or retribution should have been exacted. All parents know that teaching good behavior, good decision making, is a sign of love. Doesn’t the father in this parable love his son enough to care what he does with his life?

This whole argument, this whole line of thought, only comes up if the prodigal behavior of the son is the main theme of the parable. But for me, at least on this particular day or week, this is not the parable of the prodigal son. It is the parable of the estranged son. It’s not a parable about behavior; it’s about a relationship. It’s about a son who turned his back on his father and walked away. Or about a daughter or a son of God who turns her back on God and walks away. In the parable, money was the occasion for the estrangement. Money is often the occasion for estrangement. But the main point isn’t about what the son does or doesn’t do with his inheritance. The crucial element is whether or not he is in relationship with his father. It’s about estrangement and reconciliation. And reconciliation is good behavior worth celebrating. When father and son are reunited, when the son returns to his father’s presence, a party is in order. Being with the father is what matters. It seems, albeit not too graciously, that the older son may learn that lesson as well.  (When you are with me everything I have is yours, the father says.) Being with the father; being in relationship with the father, is what matters.

The younger son had to leave to learn that lesson. He thought he could make it on his own. After all, what did he lack? He was young, resourceful, and he had money. He had his money. Surely his money, his ambition, his wits would bring him the world. The world was his oyster. (Which might bring to mind another of Jesus’ parables about the pearl of great price.) But thinking again of the young man in today’s story… in almost no time at all after he left his father's household, he found himself impoverished, isolated, hungry, and hopeless. Even with all of his wits, all of his money, all of his ambition, he could not build a life worth living. Thank God he came to his senses. He realized that all that really mattered was living in his father’s household. To be a servant in his father’s house would be better than being estranged. That is what his own life experiences taught him. No life that he might chart or build or pursue on his own would bring him fulfillment, hope, or true sustenance. Any life that he might live reconciled, in relationship with his father, in his father’s house, was worth more than his riches, more than his pride, more than anything else… literally. Thank God he came to his senses and went home to be with his father. The parable of the estranged son who came to his senses and went home.

In baptism we are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever. We are welcomed then into the household of God. Remember the words the congregation says in welcome to the newly baptized. "We receive you into the household of God." At baptism we become members of God’s household. And no matter where our pride, our ambition, our self-serving actions may take us away from God’s presence, we can always come home. And a wondrous feast awaits us at our Lord’s table.

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