Sermon text: Luke 15:1–3, 11–32
The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen.
It was in the late 1800s when a young Missouri farmer was awakened in the middle of the night by his anxious and pregnant wife, who shouted out, “It’s time! It’s time! Saddle the horse and go get the doctor!” When the farmer returned with the doctor, it was indeed time, but it was still in the darkness of the night, and the doctor ordered the husband to light a lantern and instructed the husband to hold the lantern up high enough that he was able to do his work. Shortly thereafter, a baby was born: a son. And the young farmer lowered his lantern, only to be told by the doctor to raise it up again. Much to the young farmer’s delight, a second baby emerged: this time a girl. Twins! Elated over the fact that his wife had just given birth to these two twins, the man lowered the lantern, only to be ordered a third time to hold the light higher again. And he did, and another baby emerged: again a boy. Triplets! Thrilled but somewhat shocked, the farmer set the lantern down on the table, and the doctor turned to the young man and said, “Young man, I need this to do my work.” To which the farmer replied, “Doc, I think they’re attracted to the light.”
So it is with the children of God. Christians — true Christians — are attracted to the light of the gospel. So it was with the tax collectors and the sinners in the gospel lesson this morning. When Christ, the Light, came to them, they celebrated the forgiveness of sins and entered into table fellowship with their Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
And this morning we look at one of the most familiar parables in all of the New Testament: the parable, the often-quoted parable, the prodigal son. There’s a lot in this one parable — a good preacher could keep busy for weeks preaching on different aspects of this particular parable — but we begin at the beginning, with verse 15:1 through 3: “Now the tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to hear him. And the Pharisees and the scribes grumbled, saying, ‘This man receives sinners and eats with them.’”
That provides the context for the three parables that follow on the heels of the context: that is, outraged scribes and Pharisees expressing their offense and their disagreement with Jesus eating with tax collectors and public sinners. The first three verses provide the context for what immediately follows. And in response to the grumbling of the Pharisees and scribes, Jesus tells them the parable of the lost sheep, the parable of the lost coin, and finally the parable of the prodigal son.
In the first two parables, the owner of the sheep and the owner of the coin searched diligently for that which was lost. For that which was lost — either the sheep or the coin — was valuable in the sight of the owner. In these two parables, Jesus teaches that through the word and sacrament ministry of the church, He actively searches out those who belong to His household of faith: those who got themselves lost. The two parables are followed by the third: the parable of the prodigal son. And you know the basic outlines of the story.
The younger son, who is representative of the tax collectors and the sinners, comes to his father and demands that he be paid his share of the upcoming inheritance: the inheritance that he would receive by law at the death of his father. According to the custom of the day, at the death of the father, two-thirds of the estate goes to the oldest male child and one-third to be distributed evenly among any other surviving sons of the father. While the father does not have to disperse one penny to either one of the sons, yet this father goes ahead and, quote, “divided his property between them.”
The second son did exactly what you think a young brat’s going to do with a small fortune: he headed off to another land, where he squandered his property with reckless living — this translation says; others will say loose living. When the money ran out, the young man found himself with a problem: no clothes, no food, no shelter. Surprise, surprise: no friends to help him out. All that was made worse by a famine falling over all the land. So desperate and hungry, he decides to hire himself out, and he gets the worst possible job he can get for a Jewish man: he’s hired to feed the swine.
Remember, Jesus is telling the parable to scribes and Pharisees: bona fide legalistic Jews who want nothing to do with swine, and who see people who eat and work with swine as about the most unclean, lowly, lowlife that you can encounter. In placing the younger son in the middle of the swine pen, Jesus makes the point that the son has been reduced to the lowest possible rung on the social ladder as a Jewish man. And on the verge of starvation, the son is reduced to eating the food that the law prohibited him from eating: namely the husks. But when he came to himself, he said, “How many of my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger!”
Hunger often drives people to do foolish things they otherwise would not do. For some that’s probably it; for others, amending their ways and going back to work in an honest job someplace, earning a living. Throughout the Old and the New Testament, we’re told why people repent, you know. And it’s never really out of pure motives. That is, they turn back to the one true God because they’re hungry, or they’re frightened they’re going to be killed, or they face as a nation impending doom, or they’re taken off into captivity in Assyria or in Babylon to be slaves for generations. Only then do the people of the Old Testament tend to repent and return to the Lord. Yet the Lord takes them back again and again and again.
Time and again, the Israelites forsook the orthodox worship of Yahweh Elohim. But they didn’t come back or repent simply because they were sincere about their grief or their sorrow or their guilt. They repented because they were hungry, thirsty, taken prisoner, or made slaves. Sometimes it takes people hitting rock bottom before they come to their senses. When that happens, there’s only one place to find the true God. There’s only one place where forgiveness of sins is actually given and where God, Messiah, Christ, is present. In the Old Testament, that’s in the tabernacle or the temple. And in the New Testament, that is the New Testament church of Jesus Christ.
The younger son comes to his senses, and he says, “How many of my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread, but I perish here with hunger! I will arise and go to my father.” The prodigal son decides he’ll go home. He’ll go back to his father’s house. Think here of going back or returning to the church and throwing himself on the mercy seat of his father. He says to himself, “I will arise 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 as one of your hired servants.’”
Now, this is a son who grew up with his father. He knew his father well. This father is the guy who gave him freely, willingly, unnecessarily, and prematurely his inheritance, in the full knowledge that this son will probably squander it away. The son grew up in his father’s house, and as he returns, he has every reason to believe that his father will receive him back. It’s just a question of some of the details, that’s all. He knows his father. He knows his father to be a kind and gracious man toward him. He’s lived his life in the father’s house.
Every time I read or remember this parable, I think of one of our former members back in the 1990s: a very kind and gregarious, friendly man, a man who had fallen away from the church. One day I bumped into him, and we caught up on life, and he told me that he had had a conversation just weeks earlier with a church youth worker, a friend of his, who encouraged him to return to Immanuel. That was the first time I ever found myself in agreement with a youth worker! The former member told how his friend told his friend how uncomfortable he was, because he had been absent from church for such a very long time, and he thought that he’d come back to whispers and being sort of internally exiled in the congregation, having to work his way back up the ranks. The former member was told by the youth worker to relax. Don’t worry about it. If you go back, he and they will welcome you with open arms. You see, because that’s the business of the church. And if your church is worth its salt at all, they’ll welcome you back like the prodigal son that you should be.
Sad to say, I’m still waiting for the surprise. When he walks in — he promised me, “Pastor, one day I’ll surprise you and the rest of the congregation. One day you’ll all look up and I’ll be there.” We’re still waiting.
Well, the prodigal son had had enough, and he came back to his father. The son in the parable knew his father well enough: his father wouldn’t cast him out. So when the son was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And 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 servants, “Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.” And they began to celebrate.
The one who was dead was now alive. The family was united. But it’s not the end of the parable. That just addresses the sinners and the tax collectors at the banquet table. He has yet to address the Pharisees and the scribes, and that’s where the second son comes in.
The older son is angry and refuses to enter the house. His father comes out to see why his older son isn’t making merry with everyone else in the house. And the son tells his father, “Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!”
The father’s response reveals the nature of the father: “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.”
Two sons, very outwardly different lives. The older son remained within the father’s house. More to the point, he remained within the church. He served his father his whole life. The younger son took what he could, left, and more to the point, left the church to live as a hedonist, enjoying worldly pleasures until he finally hit rock bottom. But both sons share a deeper problem: the problem is the fundamental instinct towards works-righteousness.
The younger son, who left his father’s house and sinned boldly, decided to return to his father’s house — but did so on the basis of a pledge to work as a hired man: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Treat me as one of your hired servants.” He makes an appeal based upon the work he promises he will do in service to the household of his father. The second son makes the same kind of appeal, but he appeals to the works that he has already done, and upon which he thinks his father’s favor and affection is based. He thinks his work has earned him the favor of his father: “Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!”
The older brother, by the way, doesn’t say “when this brother of mine” returns. It’s like the husband and wife thing: “your son” — “no, no, it was your daughter.” He says “when this son of yours came.” The older son thinks he’s a better man than his brother. And the Pharisees and scribes think they’re better men than those who are eating with Jesus. They even think they’re better than Jesus, because Jesus eats with sinners.
Two brothers, very different lives, but the same problem. Both appeal to their work: one to the work he’s done, the other one to the work he intends to do. But in the waters of Holy Baptism, God the Father has made us all equally children of the heavenly Father: heirs and co-heirs of the inheritance with Jesus Christ. Titus 3:7: “so that being justified by his grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life.” Or Hebrews 6:17: “So when God desired to show more convincingly to the heirs of the promise the unchangeable character of his purpose, he guaranteed it with an oath” — that is, His promise of inheritance with an oath.
It wasn’t because the younger son somehow improved his character and came back and would now do work for the father diligently, upon which he was justified. It was solely upon the father receiving the son in pure grace and forgiveness. For the one who was lost is found. The one who was dead is now back alive. We are heirs of God because He justified us. We did not and cannot justify ourselves. He has given us the wealth of His household: namely the gift of His Son, Jesus Christ, the gift of the Holy Spirit, the body and blood in the means of grace of the Lord’s Supper, Holy Baptism, and all the other promises of the gospel. And all this He does out of fatherly, divine goodness and mercy, without any merit or worthiness on our part.
For all this it is my duty — our duty — to thank, praise, serve, and obey Him. So welcome home, you prodigal children. Your sins are forgiven. Amen.
May the peace that surpasses all understanding keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.