Lost & Found

It’s interesting to me that the story in today’s gospel lesson is called the Parable of the Prodigal Son.

The son is not called prodigal anywhere in the story.

The story became known as the Parable of the Prodigal Son quite late—after the bible had been translated to English.

Prodigal—strictly speaking—refers to wasteful spending.

And it focuses the reader on the younger son.

But what do we already know about parables?

Well, first, they had meaning beyond the obvious.

And, second, they are meant to be twisted and turned—looked at from different angles—to uncover hidden meaning.

So, let’s do that.

The obvious meaning is that it is never too late to repent.

The younger son, recognizing the error of his ways, repents of squandering his inheritance and returns home.

He acknowledges that he is a sinner.

His father—ecstatic that he has returned—welcomes him home.

The message—which plays right into our Lutheran understanding of grace—is that we are never beyond redeeming.

If you remember, I told you once before that this is the interpretation I thought would resonate with my dad.

Although my dad was never a regular churchgoer, by the time he died, he identified as a Lutheran.

Even though he had been raised Catholic, there were things about the Catholic church that bothered him.

What had the greatest impact on him was our Lutheran practice of an open Communion table.

You see, a God that welcomed everyone—that was a God that resonated with my dad.

And, although we never discussed Scripture, I’ll bet the parable of the prodigal son would have been a favorite story of my dad’s.

Because a father that loved unconditionally—a father that would welcome a son who ran away and came back—that’s a story that I believe my dad would get.

Maybe he wouldn’t have seen the connection to his own faith story of drifting away from God and finding his way back to a faithful life.

And maybe he wouldn’t have seen the connection to the open table.

But unconditional love of your sons—my dad would’ve been all in.

One way of twisting a parable is to look at it from the perspective of different characters in the story.

What if we looked at the parable from the perspective of the older son?

Some would argue that he is the Lost Son—at least, metaphorically speaking.

Because he is bitter.

He can’t bring himself to forgive his brother.

In fact, he can’t even acknowledge that he has a brother, referring to him only as “this son of yours.”

He is so wrapped up in his perception of what is fair— “I’ve done every single thing you asked me to do … But then this son of yours comes home after going through your money with prostitutes, and you kill the fatted calf for him!”—that he is incapable of feeling the joy that his father does.

We see examples of this all around us.

People complaining about student loan forgiveness because no one helped them pay off their student loans.

Or people complaining about reparations for people of color.

Instead of gratitude for the gifts that God has blessed them with.

Instead of gratitude for the good job that they have.

Instead of gratitude for the help—or the inheritance—they received from their family.

Maybe the message we are supposed to take away from this parable is that we should focus less on coveting what other people have or what other people get and more on what we have and the blessings that we’ve received.

In Judaism, there is a concept called tzedak, which is justice and charity combined.

In our culture, there is no equivalent—justice and charity are very different things.

If I give someone $100 because I owe it to them, that is justice.

If I give someone $100, not because I owe it to them but because I think they need it, that is charity.

In our culture, an act can be justice or charity, but it cannot be both.

I believe that the problem we need to wrestle with is that this idea of tzedak—a concept that Jesus was undoubtedly familiar with—is necessary for the Kin-dom.

In the parable, both sons are acting out of a sense of entitlement.

The younger son believes he is entitled to his inheritance.

The older son believes he is entitled to his anger—and some reward for his righteous behavior.

Had their starting point been that their family’s wealth is a gift from God that had been entrusted to them to steward, I’m pretty confident that the outcome would have been very different.

Something else that’s interesting to consider about this particular parable is that we don’t know what comes after.

Does the older son ever forgive his father? His brother?

The path to reconciliation is complicated.

The older son feels his resentment is justified.

Maybe he will come around—or maybe he won’t.

The lesson for us is to forgive as God forgives.

To focus more on the grace that we receive abundantly from God and worry less about perceived injustices.

I also wonder if the younger son’s repentance permanent—or does he revert to his way of loose living?

Maimondes, a 12th-century rabbi and biblical scholar, wrote that the final—and many would argue the most important—step in repentance is, when faced with the same situation, do you make a different choice?

The lesson for us to learn from our mistakes—to not repeat them.

Maybe the purpose of this parable is for us to speculate about what comes after.

What should each of the characters in the story—father, older son, and younger son—do to exemplify a righteous life?

How should they treat each other to permanently reconcile?

Maybe the question we need to ask ourselves is are there relationships in our own lives where reconciliation is incomplete?

So, I imagine some of you are sitting there saying to yourself, “If there’s a message in there, I’m not getting it.”

“I’m hearing possibilities but no answers”.

And you’re absolutely right.

But that is the nature of parable storytelling.

There are no single answers.

They are meant to be twisted and turned.

They are meant to be looked at from different perspectives.

My hope is that I am helping you to do that.

My hope is that you’ll have your own interpretation of this parable.

One that is relevant to you and your life.

That’s what makes parable storytelling so powerful.

That’s what makes it timeless.

In closing, I’ll share one more thought with you.

The parable from today’s gospel is actually the third in a trilogy of parables: The Lost Coin, The Lost Sheep, and The Lost Son.

If we step back and look at the entire trilogy, then I think we might focus less on today’s lesson being about sin and repentance.

Because in the context of the trilogy, think about it—coins and sheep don’t have the capacity to “sin”.

I think, when taken together, the three lost parables could simply be stories about the joy of being found.

In a few minutes, we will sing “Amazing Grace” as our Communion hymn.

“Amazing grace!

How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me!

I once was lost, but now am found”.

There is joy in being found.

We worship a God that always seeks us out—no matter how lost we are.

Even if we are dead, God brings us back to life.

No matter how lost we are—God always finds us.

We know God’s voice.

And God calls us by name.

And God that says, “You are mine”.

Know that every time God finds you, God rejoices.

May we also rejoice at being found.

Thanks be to God!

May this meditation on God’s word keep our hearts and minds on Christ Jesus. Amen.