Sermon preached at St. Alban's, Spirit Lake, on March 18, 2007
(Year C, Fourth Sunday in Lent, BCP Lectionary)
by the Rev. Carl D. Mann

Texts:   Joshua (4:19-24);5:9-12
Psalm 34 or 34:1-8
2 Corinthians 5:17-21
Luke 15:11-32

For as long as I can remember, today’s Gospel has always been known as the parable of the Prodigal Son. I don’t know where that label originated. In most study Bibles, it is referred to as the parable of the lost son; the third in as many parables about lost things, the first two being the lost sheep and the lost coin.

I have heard some preachers say that the title of the parable shouldn’t have anything to do with the son because the son is not the focus of the story. The father is the real hero because regardless of what the son has done; the love of the father is so much greater, resulting in the forgiveness and restoration of the son. Therefore, it should be called the parable of the Loving Father or the Forgiving Father.

I find it interesting that the word “prodigal’ is not found in the story at all. The only place in a Bible that I could find it was in the King James Version, as a subheading in this section of Luke; the Lost Sheep; the Lost Coin: the Prodigal Son. The word “prodigal” has its roots in Latin and Greek, and it literally means to “drive forth” or to “drive away”, and quite frankly, in context of the story, that doesn’t make any sense to me. Neither the father nor the older brother drove the son away. He left in the manner of his own choosing. It was his choice to have the unmitigated gall to ask for his inheritance. As the younger son, he was entitled by law to one third of his father’s estate…but not until the father was dead! So in essence, the younger son is saying, “Dad, you’re getting old and I’m not getting any younger! Let’s face it; you’re aging right before my very eyes. In fact, you’re as good as dead and just haven’t realized it yet. So let’s pretend you’ve assumed room temperature, and the will has been read. Hand over my piece of the pie right now!”

I cannot begin to tell you how outrageous this story is right from the gitgo. Only the level of restraint on the part of the father surpasses the level of audacity on the part of the son. Any good Jewish father in that day and age would have had him beaten or thrown out of the family all together but instead we are told that he divided his property between them. In today’s understanding, this can mean one of several things. He had enough cash reserves to pay out one third of the value of his estate, but this could seriously interrupt his cash flow and thus jeopardize his business in the event of some unforeseen vagary in the market such as a drought or famine. Or maybe he had to liquidate some of his assets thus reducing the potential production and therefore minimizing the return on his investment. Or perhaps he had to leverage part of his assets thus transferring earned income into the interest paid column of his ledger, which I don’t believe was deductible in the eyes of the Roman government or the Temple. Any of these possibilities would have brought much shame and dishonor upon the father. However, a fourth possibility is that the father is wealthy beyond imagination, and it doesn’t really matter what his son is doing or what other people think about it, which in my opinion is actually closer to the truth of the parable. The point is that nothing drove the son away. He left of his own volition under his own conditions, which the father willingly allowed.

After the literal translation, the first definition of the word “prodigal” is that of being recklessly extravagant characterized by wasteful expenditure. Now I don’t understand how we arrive at that definition from “drive forth or away” but it is what it is. Of course with this definition, it’s not too hard to understand the nature of prodigality in relation to the story when we read that the son traveled to a distant country and squandered his property in dissolute living. He was living the high life, and spending money like it grew on trees. In today’s world, we would be able to read about him in all the tabloid headlines; we would be able to catch glimpses of him on every Hollywood gossip show; and we would laugh at him when he became the butt of every opening monologue on late night comedy.

When the younger son’s fifteen minutes of fame were gone, and he had no money, and he had no friends, he hit rock bottom. Not only was his life so miserable that he had to take a job feeding pigs, which for a good Jewish boy was an all time low, he was so hungry that he even considered eating the same food as they did.

But then we are told that he came to himself. We come to ourselves in that moment when we are so far gone in our own particular predicament that we are out of ideas. We know that there is nothing that we can think of and nothing that we can do to make our situation better. We have tried every thing that our feeble minds can imagine with the same results. It is in that moment of complete emptiness and self-realization that God can begin to work in our lives. When the son came to himself, he realized that he acted in a foolish way; he recognized that he had dishonored his father; and he understood that if he had any chance of remaining alive and regaining some shred of his dignity that he must repent. So his plan was to return home, confess to his father that he had sinned against heaven and before him, acknowledge that he was no longer worthy to be called one of his sons, and to plead to become one of the hired hands. He made no claim to family except to recognize his father for who he was, and he was content to take his chance on being a day laborer, which were far better circumstances than he was currently experiencing.

The next definition of the word “prodigal” is lavish, that of yielding abundantly. When the son was still far off from home, his father saw him coming and again, contrary to what a good Jewish father would do, he ran down the road to meet him. He was so filled with compassion on seeing his son that he threw propriety out the window, and threw his arms around him and kissed him. The son was so shocked that he began to blurt out his plan, and only managed to get two thirds of it out. “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called son…” So absolute was the father’s forgiveness that before the son could finish, the father ordered his slaves to bring his best robe and place it on his son, put a ring on his finger, and sandals for his feet. The robe signified honor, the ring signified authority, and the sandals meant that he was his son and not a slave of any kind. He had been restored to his former position. He had returned from exile. He was lost and now was found. He was dead and now was resurrected! So lavish was the father’s welcome that he ordered the fatted calf to be slaughtered and a celebration to begin. The father yields his love for his son so abundantly that the story could be called the Prodigal Father or possibly the Prodigal and his son.

How often do we behave like the younger son? How often do we make demands on God, and then act as if He didn’t exist? How often do we take all that we have been given in this life, and I don’t mean just the material things, I’m talking about our relationship with everything in this world, how often do we take it and waste it wantonly on the instant gratification of the now? Lent is the time for us to ask ourselves these questions. It’s the time for us to come to ourselves if we have hit rock bottom, and hopefully before we hit rock bottom. It is a time of completely emptying ourselves and admitting that we can’t do it on our own. We need God’s help. When we repent, that is to turn around and face God and confess our sins before Him, and promise to amend our lives, we can be assured that God, the Father will forgive us, and fill us with His abundant Love, which is His only begotten Son, Jesus Christ, and by the power of His Holy Spirit we will be restored to our former status as His created children, and co-heirs to His kingdom. And then the real celebration will begin! God will throw a heavenly banquet that is so lavishly extravagant, and lovingly abundant that we can only begin to imagine what a glorious time it will be. It will be at that time, when we will experience firsthand what the word “prodigal” really means. This is the Good News and the hope of the resurrection! Gloria Patri