This page will be prettied up at some point. If you would like to read this offline or print a copy, I would suggest downloading the PDF version of this sermon.
Our Gospel reading this Father’s day is a story about free-will, where a child’s actions hurt a parent. It is a story about regret, about transformation, forgiveness, redemption, and a reminder that the story goes on for those who have not yet found their way home.
...Jesus said, “There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’ So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living.
When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything.
But when he came to himself he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.”’ So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’
But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe-the best one-and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate.
Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.’ Then he became angry and refused to go in.
His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’
Then the father said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’ ”
Let us pray:
Open our ears and our hearts, that we might hear your word and respond with our lives to your saving love. Amen.
...
Three weeks ago, sitting in a hospital room holding our son for the first time, I realized that I was in very big trouble. Some of you have seen the picture that was taken where I was holding Ethan and he had his entire hand wrapped around my finger. I was filled with the love of a new parent. I knew that new little life would teach me more about love than I had ever known. But I also knew that there would be other days, even before the terrible-twos and the trials of the teenage years, there will be challenges and heartaches.
Suddenly I understood something of what it must be like for God.
Now don’t get me wrong.... I said that I understood part of what it must be like for God, not that I was like God or understood all the intricacies of God’s relationship to humanity.
There are some folks who don’t like it when we talk about God in human terms, especially in emotional terms. I appreciate their concerns and think they have a good point to a certain extent. After all, God is much more than human, and certainly does not operate exactly the way we do. Yet human terms are all we have to describe God. Human understanding is all we have to try and comprehend God, and we have been told that we are made in the likeness of God, so there must be some connection there between us.
Today is a good example. We talk about “God the Father” – of course as you well know there are many people who do not like to talk about God in those terms. They raise concerns about how God might be misunderstood when compared to human fathers – many of whom have done terrible misdeeds. How can someone who was abused by their earthly father feel comfortable with the concept of God as a father?
I understand those concerns, and I appreciate them. We do need to keep those ideas in balance. It concerns me when I hear people compare God’s anger, punishment, and discipline to a father and then compare God’s love and comfort to a mother. When we do that we are making terrible statements about how we misunderstand the roles of human fathers and mothers – implying that human fathers are not expected to be loving and comforting, and that human mothers are not expected to discipline.
Having said all of that, I have also had conversations with people who were abused by their earthly fathers who said that they DO want to talk about God as a father, because it helps them to understand what a father SHOULD be like, how they SHOULD treat their children.
So even being aware of the potential problems and limitations, we must speak of God in human terms and human words, because those are all that we have.
It is with that understanding that I realized something of what God must experience with all of His children on earth. Because sitting in that hospital room with that new life clutching onto my finger, I knew that I would be willing to do anything for him. I would give anything I could for him, whatever I could do to help him I would be willing to do.
I would even be willing to give my life for his.
And that is when I realized it – God feels exactly that same way toward us.
I thought about that first creation, as described to us in Genesis, when he formed the first human beings and breathed life into them. What wondrous love to create human life to share in His earth, creatures that could experience and know His presence, who could choose to act with the free will He created in them.
That is another mystery people often wonder about: free will. They wonder why on earth God would create free will in us, knowing that it could lead us to disobey Him. Yet sitting in that hospital room I could understand that too. Because even though my son lay in my arms with his hand wrapped around my finger, I knew that the reaction was more instinctual than cognitive. He had not gone through a true decision making process to curl his fingers around mine, any more than he decided to fall asleep.
But in time it will make all the difference in the world as he grows up and decides how he will act. Watch children around you and around adults they trust. Watch them slip into the lap of an adult, or throw their arms around them in a spontaneous hug, or simply smile when they see a friendly face. When that child is old enough to understand what those actions mean, the actions take on much more significance.
And so it is with us and God. Surely He could have created us as mindless drones, following His commands without thought. And yes in some ways it surely would have been easier. But it would have been meaningless obedience because we had no other real choice. Consider two children lying in two beds. One has curled up to go to sleep on her own, and the other has been forcibly kept in bed by restraints.
God gave to us the freedom to choose. It was a risky proposition. It was perhaps even dangerous. But God was willing to take the risk in order that we might truly live and learn and love – because without that freedom, we would never, ever have been able to truly love.
Of course with that ability to love came the ability to turn from love – to reject love and all acts of kindness, to ignore what we should do and how we should act, and become selfish and cruel.... as we read in today’s Gospel reading.
Although the story is well known, it is also timeless. It is a story which grows in richness and depth the longer we are alive. Each time we hear this story we can step back and examine our lives.
How often we have been like the younger son: we have taken advantage of those around us; we have hurt those who loved us most; we have made poor decisions and ended up in terrible circumstances, alone and empty.
One of the reasons this story is so rich is that it leaves open much to our reading, without answering all of the questions. Many people read the story as a wonderful transformation, where the younger son realizes the error of his ways and turns back to the life that he had left behind and comes back a changed man.
However, there is very little in the story to suggest what really happened to him. Did he have a true change of heart, or did he realize a pragmatic solution to his situation? Did he truly realize the offense he had committed against his father, or did he come up with a clever plan of getting back on his father’s good side? And what happened after the end of the story? Did he, after he returned home, have a true change of heart? Was he able to be content in a life that he had so desperately sought to leave behind? Was he willing to listen and obey his father, and stay as part of that household? When we read the story, we certainly want that outcome, we hope that was the resolution. But the story ends before we know how it all turns out.
Of course the younger son is only one of the troubled youth in this story. The elder son is so angered by what has happened that he too lashes out against their father. He refuses to recognize his relationship with his brother, referring to him as “that son of yours” when talking to his father.
How often we have been like the older son: we have done our duty, even as our dissatisfaction built up within our hearts. We watched the actions of others, and compared ourselves favorably with those who had clearly fallen short. The older brother is like the Pharisee who prayed “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” [Luke 18:11-12] His actions might have been pure, but his heart was not. He was every bit as selfish as his brother, concerned that his brother was getting special treatment, afraid that his father would not have enough love for them both.
Have we not at times refused to recognize our relationship, our connectedness, with those around us? Have we not compared ourselves favorably against those who have sinned? Have we not looked at them and said “God I thank you that I am not like other people: terrorists or corrupt corporate leaders or abusive priests. I go to church every week and contribute regularly, and I am doing so much better than those other people.” Such sinful pride must make the heart of God ache.
The elder brother, who claims to have lived such a faithful life, had seemingly lost his love for his own brother, and perhaps even for his father too, because he was so concerned about getting his fair share. There is very little in the story to suggest what happened to him either. When the story ends he is still standing in the field, within earshot of the celebration, with his father pleading with him. Did he have a change of heart? Did he forgive his brother? Did he ask forgiveness of his father? Did he ask forgiveness of his brother for the pride that had blinded him and made him unable to love him? Was he able to continue in a life which was clearly a struggle and challenge for him. But the story ends before we know how it all turns out.
And finally the father. What an incredible example of love this father displayed. He was willing to let his son go off when it must have torn his heart apart to see him go, to know that he was bound to make bad decisions and have to deal with the unpleasant consequences. Yet he made what must have been a difficult choice to let his son go.
But what then? Was he filled with anger? Did he write his son off, or become consumed by bitterness?
Not at all. For when the son was still a long way off, his father saw him. He had not given up on him, he was waiting with hope for his return.
And when his son came to him, spirit broken and heavy of heart, did the father say “I told you not to go” or “If you had only listened to me” or anything else? No, the text is quite clear: the father was “filled with compassion” not anger or contempt.
Compassion is a wonderful word. It comes from the combination of two Latin words: the word we translate as “passion” which means to suffer (there’s another sermon right there) and “com-” meaning “with.” So literally speaking the father took up the son’s suffering. Any parent – and in fact anyone who has ever loved another person – knows what that is like. When we love someone, we do suffer when they suffer, we suffer alongside of them and with them. And that is what this father did.
The younger son was ready to give up his position as the father’s son TWICE: once in the beginning when he left home (when he apparently thought he was too good for his father’s house) and then again when he returned (when he apparently thought he was unworthy of the title).
He actually said “I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” That phrase reminds me of part of the Catholic Mass of my youth. Before handling the elements for Communion, the priest will wash his hands with the words: “Father I am not worthy to receive you. but only say the word, and I shall be healed.”
Are those not nearly the same as the words of the younger son? Could he have not said “Father I am not worthy to be received by you, but only say the word and I shall be healed” ?
How blessed we are that we have a Father in heaven like the father in this story.
We have a Father who loved us enough to create us and to care for us. We have a Father who gave us the free will to leave the shelter of His arms. We have a Father who waited for us to come to ourselves, to come to our senses, to remember who we really are.
I can summarize all the great works of forgiveness and reconciliation by quoting just a few words from our Gospel reading.
But when he [the older son] came to himself he said, “How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.” So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him.
We too recognize that we are not worthy for the great gift that God has given us, the love that God has shown us, the grace that God has surrounded us.
God does not wait for us to reach perfection. God does not even wait for us to have good progress to show. God is like the father in our Gospel reading today, who cannot wait to welcome us, even when we are a long way off. God does not question us about our long-term abilities to continue consistently in our efforts to follow him. He does not set limitations on His love.
The father called to the servants and said “this son of mine” – not “this formerly disobedient son of mine” or “this now repentant son of mine” – but “this son of mine.”
That is a father’s love. That is our Father’s love, and extravagant celebration even when we are still a long way off.
For those who have come to themselves and realized their need for God, He reaches out to embrace them as His own.
For those who are still out in the fields, within earshot of the celebration within, He stands with them, loving them, caring for them, hoping that they too will come and join together in the celebration of new life.
For while we were still a long way off, God sent His Son to us. He died to take away our sin, and opened to us the gates of the eternal life and celebration on the streets of heaven.
Let us pray:
Father in heaven, we praise you for your love that created us, your grace that saved us, and your spirit which is with us still. Come anew this day into our hearts and our lives, that we might remember the joy of your salvation, and remember your amazing grace and love surrounding us this day and forevermore. AMEN.