Preface

These four sermons were the result of a many hours of study. Many of the ideas and images can be traced to other sources. I would like to acknowledge the use of Helmut Thielicke, The Waiting Father: The Parables of Jesus, Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Return of the Prodigal: A Story of Homecoming, and Kenneth E. Bailey, Poet and Peasant & Through Peasant Eyes, A Literary-Cultural Approach to the Parables in Luke. As well, the October 1998 issue of "Christianity Today," which featured various studies on this parable, was helpful in many ways. It is not easy in sermon writing to footnote sources, so in this way I acknowledge my indebtedness.

I hope and pray and trust that these sermons will open a window to this parable and reveal the wonders of the Father’s grace in Christ. May there be a homecoming for every reader of this parable.

J. L. van Popta

Thanksgiving Day 2000

Coaldale Manse

The Prodigal Son Leaves

Liturgy:

Scripture Reading: Luke 15
Text: Luke 15:11-13

Psalm 90:1,3,7
Psalm 6:1,2
Hymn 48:1,2

Psalm 107:1,2
Hymn 48:3,4

Congregation of the Lord Jesus Christ

Introduction

This parable, of the father and his two sons, is one of the best known stories that the Lord ever told. It is a story about coming home. Of repentance and reformation. Of return and forgiveness. Of acceptance and restoration. Of finding what was lost. We think of the father welcoming home his lost son. His joy at receiving back alive that which was dead. For finding, of receiving back, that which had been lost. We think of his elation. Of his celebration.

But there is much more here to explore and discover. This is not just the parable of the prodigal son, for the first line of the parable says that there was a man with two sons. It is a parable about two sons: an elder and a younger, and about a father.

As well, it is a parable that is tied to the loss of one of 100 sheep. And to the loss of one of ten coins. It is tied to the murmuring of the Pharisees. They were murmuring about the Lord Jesus. The Lord Jesus, at the beginning of this chapter, is seen to be accepting sinners and tax collectors and dining with them. The Pharisees grumble, just like the people of Israel did in the wilderness. They murmured in the crowd. It was not loud complaining. They were not challenging the Lord, or heckling from the crowd. They just did not like this upstart preacher from the countryside; he was just a carpenter after all. And so in the midst of the crowd of listeners, in the midst of the congregation, amidst those who would hear and follow Jesus, these Pharisees began to complain and mutter to others. "He’s no good. How can he be? He receives sinners and tax collectors and eats with them!" With their complaints, they tried to poison the atmosphere. With their murmuring, they undermined the preaching of the gospel. With their complaints, they interfered with the ability of others to hear and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ. Their murmuring and complaining was a serious offence. In response, the Lord Jesus tells parables— first a parable about some sheep and a shepherd; then about some coins and a woman; and then about two sons and a father; a parable about return, finding, and coming to life. However, with return, leaving is implied. With finding, first there is loosing. With coming back to life, first there must be dying.

Long before turning and returning the son had left. He engaged in radical rejection. He rejected his father’s home, his hearth. He rejected his father’s heart, his father’s love.

The father’s joy is rooted in sorrow. His celebration has mourning in the background. The father’s experience of the tender joy of return is accented by the bitterness of loss and leaving: of sorrow. To understand compassion we must understand brokenness.

To understand this story well, we must understand that younger son. Long before turning, and restoration, and joy, and celebration, the younger son had left. He abandoned his father’s love. Today we will hear about how he left.

The Lord willing, in the near future we will return to this parable a number of times and examine his return, his brother’s response, and his father’s love.

This morning I would proclaim the Word of God as it is presented to us in the loss of the younger son. We will do so under this theme.

The younger son rejects his father’s love.

1.      Radical rejection

2.      Defiant deafness

3.      Selfish searching

4. Licentious living

1. Radical Rejection

These three parables (of sheep, of coins and of sons… perhaps they should be seen as just one parable) are about being lost and being found. Of sorrow, of anxiety at loss, and of joy and celebration at finding. The Lord Jesus told these parables because his opponents were complaining that he was eating and drinking with sinners. They thought that it was scandalous to entertain "sinners." The Pharisees were separatists. They muttered about the Lord that he "welcomes sinners and eats with them." And so the Lord tells about finding the lost sheep and the celebration it caused. About finding the lost coin and the rejoicing it prompted. And about the man with his two sons and the feast that they had when the one who departed, returned.

The story begins with the younger son requesting the family assets that would eventually be his so that he might go on his way. He said to his father, "Let me have the share of the estate that falls to me." In the Middle East, the eldest son would get a double portion. So in this story the man has two sons. The eldest would get two-thirds; the younger one third. The father complies. From the parable, we understand that this father was not poor. He has servants; he can have a feast; he has fine robes and signet rings. He is a prince of some sort, or a very wealthy businessman. Amazingly, he complies without question. He gives the young man his share of the estate. The young man gathers together all he received, turns it into cash, and leaves. The story is so short and pointed that we hardly think that much is happening.

But it is hard to imagine the significance of this unheard of event. Those who heard this parable from the mouth of the Lord might have gasped or held their breath. What is happening here is hurtful, offensive, and selfish. It is a radical rejection of the father’s love and position. No son in Jesus’ day would ask such a thing. The request means that he wants his father to die and he no longer has the patience to wait till his death. He wants the money coming to him, and he wants it now. "Show me the money!"

Not only does he want his part, he wants to be able to do with it as he wills. The father should have been able to continue to live off the wealth of the estate. If both sons did as the younger did, the father would have been put out on the street. The younger son demands that to which he had no right until after the death of his father. We can show that this young man is impertinent to the extreme. Who among us with a successful family farming operation would grant this request? Imagine that a young son would want to leave the farm to seek his fame and fortune in the big city. How many would request, receive and sell their portion of the family farm before they go?

Moreover, the son’s request and leaving is more radical and much more offensive than it first seems. It is heartless rejection of the home in which he was born and nurtured. He leaves for a distant country. This is not just the desire to do some traveling, but it is the desire to get out from the restraints and constraints of living within the family home. This is about a drastic cutting loose from the way of thinking and living, and being, and acting, that has been handed to him by his father. This is not just disrespect, but betrayal of family values and community. The distant country is the world, where what home considers holy is disregarded.

How can we say all this? Well, the son does not ask for his inheritance. For with the inheritance would come responsibility. With the inheritance would come customs, and honour, and tradition. No, he just asks for the wealth, the substance of the estate; he cares not for the moral obligations that come with the estate. He takes his wealth for granted. He just assumes that since he is the son of his father, child of the household, that he has rights to the wealth and privilege. He not only asks for the division of the estate, but also for the right to dispose of his part as he sees fit. This young man rejects responsibility. He wants benefits, without obligation.

And when we look into the mirror then we must say, "That’s me!" This parable, perhaps more than any other, is about the relationship between the Father and those of his household. It is about the Father in the covenant of grace and his people. It is about his boundless mercy and compassionate love. It is about grace unlimited. Of love unconditional. This is the center: unconditional love. It is about love for sinners who are not worthy of Father’s love and yet he loves them completely.

When we place ourselves in the light of this story then we are exposed as young men. When that divine love is shone upon me, upon you, then we are exposed and uncovered. Leaving home is much closer to our spiritual experience than we might have thought. There is that radical separation that we so often engage in. That taking for granted that the covenant inheritance is ours to do with as we please. As if we had a right to the covenant inheritance and its riches! As if the promise of Father’s providential care, of the Son’s riches, forgiveness of sin and everlasting righteousness, of the Holy Spirit’s presence — as if these were ours by right and privilege! As if they belonged to us because of us!

But back to the young man: The young man receives that for which he has no right until his father dies. The implication is that "Father, I can’t wait for you to die. I want to get on with my life and you are in my way. I want to leave this place."

2.Defiant Deafness

And so with defiant deafness the young man leaves. He receives his share and disposes of his third of the estate. He liquidates it. He turns it into cash. He does it soon. Gold and silver in his purse, he sets out to a far country, a distant land. He leaves home. However, leaving home is much more than being bound and released from some historical place. Leaving home is the denial of the spiritual reality that I belong to God with every part of my being. My life, my soul, my heart, my inner being. Leaving home is a denial that my name is engraved into the palm of God hands (Isaiah 49:16). Leaving home is living as if I do not yet have a home and must look far and wide to find one. Leaving home to the far country is this: not hearing the voice of the good shepherd. It is not following him. Leaving home, going into the world is ignoring, not hearing, the Lord’s prayer that his own are not of the world, yet in it (John 17).

And of course there is a great difference in this part of the parable—the part about the father and his sons—a great difference from what came before. The one sheep in 100 did not want to be lost. It would be bleating on the hillside, alone, frightened, and sick unto death. It would be overjoyed at being found. The one coin in ten did not leave. It could not, it was misplaced, dropped, lost by the owner. But the lad, the young man, he was lost by choice. He wants to be his own boss. He stops his ears to father’s wisdom. He wants his own way.

He seems to think that his father is in his way. "It is always, ‘Don’t do this and don’t do that!’ It is always ‘Mind your responsibilities!’ Always it comes around to those infernal, ‘You shall nots!’ You and your commandments, rules, curfews and family laws! Let me out of here! My father is always yanking on my chain."

It has been like this since Adam and Eve. They too were in Father’s house, so to say. And they would not obey. There too was that sign, "You shall not!" with all its alluring dark secrets. And Adam, at the instigation of the Devil, and in willful disobedience robbed himself and his posterity of God’s good gifts. Ever since, mankind refuses to hear and instead mutters: "Those annoying limitations! You call this freedom! Ha! Always barriers, forbidden pleasures, warnings, dangers: how is a person to develop and live his own life with father always spoiling everything?" And so the young man does not hear a thing any more. He will not listen. Why won’t he listen?

Home, in this parable, is where we can hear the voice of the Good Shepherd. It is where we hear the Word and teaching of our Lord. It is where we hear the voice of the Son of God to set us free to live in this dark world while yet remaining in the light. But this young man is deaf. He will not hear. He will not listen.

What does that voice say, that this young man refuses to hear in his defiant deafness? Whose voice is it? It is the voice of the Lord Jesus Christ that says, "My disciples, my children, do not belong to the world, any more than I belong to the world. Consecrate them in your truth, Father. As you have sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world, but not to be part of it but to bring my glory into it."

When we hear the voice of the Lord, seeking the lost, calling out to us, "Where are you? Where are you?" then we should be like that lost sheep, alone and lost in the wilderness, overjoyed to be found. Then I can walk through the valley of the shadow of death: no evil would I fear. Here with the good shepherd there is security. Here with the father is sanctuary and safety. Here with the father is purpose and direction. Here with the father is blessing and grace. But yet, over and over, we with the younger son, leave home.

How many of us have not left home with him. This is the great tragedy of the lives of God’s people. Time and again we reject the Father’s love and go off into sin, seeking the pleasures of this world. We want to find our own way.

It is the sorrow of fathers’ hearts from generation to generation. That sons and daughters leave home. Not that they grow up and find a girl friend or boy friend and get married. Not that they grow up and move out to live on their own. But rather, that they leave the spiritual home of God’s grace. That they leave the spiritual household of God’s covenant. That they leave the household where God has called them his beloved.

So many have become deaf to the voice that calls them, "beloved." So many have left the only place where they can hear that voice, and gone off desperately hoping to find somewhere else that which they thought they needed and could not find at home. And we need not even leave the church. There are so many times that we do not hear. We murmur and grumble. We plug our ears. We engage in defiant deafness, thinking that we can find what we need by listening to the message of the far away country. And this is unbelievable! Why should we leave the place where all we need to hear can be heard? Why should we stop our ears defiantly?

But there are so many voices. Voices that are loud, seductive, mysterious, engaging, inviting. Voices that say, "Come on now: Prove yourself." Even as the Lord Jesus, immediately after his baptism and having heard the voice from heaven was brought into the wilderness to be tempted. He was tempted by the voices of the world, by the voice of the devil himself, that he would be loved if he were successful, popular and powerful.

There in the far country the voices call that we should be the best we can be. That we must be achievers. That we must be top dogs for anybody to care for us. That I must first of all watch out for number one because there are none to watch for me. "Be sure to make it through school and do it on your own. Those trophies show how good you are. Your grades, how successful you will be. Your friends determine how much power you will have. Your beauty will define your popularity. Oh, don’t show your weakness to any one because they’ll destroy in a moment!" These are the voices of the far country.

When we hear the voice of the Son of God and listen to him then there is no need to fear: the Siren call of the world is harmless. But when we forget unconditional love and begin to think that love is earned, then all those things become the call of the distant country.

Anger, resentment, jealousy, lust, greed, desire for revenge, rivalries: these are the obvious expression that we have left home for that distant land. And then we fall into the trap of bitterness: "Why did so and so hurt me, reject me, not pay attention to me?" We brood about others’ successes, our own loneliness, our failures. And then we dream about becoming rich, famous and powerful. And so we leave home in search of fulfillment. In search of that which we think we cannot find at home with the Father. And so we go on a journey of selfish searching.

3. Selfish Searching

And this then is the question: To whom do we belong? To the Father or to the world? Surely the father and the son in this parable must have spoken many times. The son might have said, "Father I want to be independent. You must give me my freedom. I can’t go on living like this with all the restrictions you place on me. I’m big and grown up know; quit treating me like a child. I want my liberty. I feel as if I am chained like galley slaves to oars. I long for air; I need my space, I want my freedom."

And the father would have replied something like this. "Do you really think that you’re not free? After all, you are a child of the house. You can come to me whenever you wish and tell me of all and any troubles you might have. You share in all the benefits of the family. All that I have I share with you. There are many who would be happy to have such a son’s privilege. Isn’t that freedom? My whole kingdom belongs to you. I love you, and give you daily bread. I forgive your trespasses with joy when you bring to me the burdens of your heart, your guilt, your conscience. You are bound to no one: you are free: subject to no one, but me. And yet you say you are not free?"

And the son says: "Father I am sick and tired of all this stuff. This training, these rules, this restraint. You will not let me do what I want. Freedom means doing what I want when I want." But the father replies: "Freedom is not becoming a servant of your desires; a slave to lust and passion. It is not being chained to your ambition; your need for recognition; your love for money, wealth and riches. Why do I forbid you these? To limit your freedom? No, never! But to secure your freedom. That you might remain free. That you might live worthy of sonship because you are my son. Not to take your freedom. Not even to make you free. But because you are already free. Free because of my love for you and my grace to you." But the son leaves in search of freedom, freedom to do as he pleases. What sorrow! What grief!

And so he heads out in selfish searching. Denying his father’s love he goes out in search of self-fulfillment. In search of love. Of fun. Of passion. He takes his share of the estate and searches for friends in a far off land. He needs to spend his money to make friends. He spends prodigiously. That is where this word comes from. Prodigal does not mean he who returns. It means spendthrift. It describes this son at his worst. The prodigal son is the son at his worst. One who in wild generosity consumes his livelihood in riotous living.

4. Licentious Living

He is the one who just for once wants to cut loose. "Is that so bad? I’m just a young fellow." That is often the attitude of young people. Also some seated here today. "Is it so bad to just let loose. Go party. Go to the bar. Do some drugs. Play some VLTs. Buy some beer and throw the friends a party. Why not? My friends and I will have a blast. I mean, if I don’t, then I’ll not taste life to the full. I might miss something. I’ll show mom and dad what I can do. They can’t stop me. I’ll go out and live in the world. Where neither mom nor dad—not even God—can make a difference. Then when I’ve had my fun, I’ll return and find my place back in the inheritance and the communion of the church. I don’t intend to be a rascal, or a crook, or even a bad guy. I just want to cut loose and have some fun."

And so the youngest son asks his father; he demands of his father that he get his portion of the estate. The elder brothers balks, I’m sure. "You think that that is a good thing. To go hanging around in the sinks and the dives of the world. This is the worst mistake that you can make. You have to be obedient to your father. Then when the time is right you will get what you’ve got coming."

And what does father do? The very unexpected. He does not scold his youngest son. He does not deny him. He does not discipline him. He goes and gets the money. The younger sons says: "Show me the money," and the father simply does. The son can do as he wants. The father’s action demonstrates remarkable love. Neither the shepherd in search of the sheep, nor the woman in search for the coin, do anything out of the ordinary beyond what anyone in their place would do. But the actions the father takes are unique, marvelous, divine actions that have not been done by any father in the past. Father grants the right of possession and disposition to his lost son. For he was lost, not in that far away land. But he was lost already before he left.

Note, however, that the father’s actions are not rejection. For we know the father watches, watches, watches for the return of his son. He will wait and never stop watching. Even as the good shepherd did not stop calling until he found the one of a hundred. Just as the woman did not stop seeking until she found the one of ten. So also the father did not stop waiting and watching till the one of two returned.

Some have said that leaving 99 on the hillside in search of one was irresponsible. That it endangered the 99. But the 99 were afforded security. They knew that the good shepherd cared. That he watched over them; he counted them; he loved them as his own. The 99 know that they are loved. And so also the sons, they could know that father loved them. That he watched for them. That he waited for his wastrel son with unconditional love.

And that young son—he lives in grand style. He goes far away so that none might send him home or find him. He is not lost on some local hillside like a sheep. He is not lost on the kitchen floor like a coin. He runs away! Far away! Where none can find or even reach him.

And there he begins to party. He has friends; of both sexes. He opens up his bank account and begins to spend. He buys fancy clothes. His house is first class; better than most. He is making an impression. He hears the voice of the world. "Impress those around you; then they’ll be your friends." And friends come like flies to honey. But his money runs through his fingers.

And yet, he cannot escape that all that he has, has come from his father. But he uses and abuses everything without really taking into account his father. His body which he adores, his clothes which he loves, his lifestyle which he needs, his possessions, his food and drink, they came from the capital his father gave him. And in themselves they are good blessings. When the father in heaven gives us good things they are blessings. The harvest is good. The economy is good. Life is good. For the most part, we enjoy peace and security, and unprecedented wealth. But when we use them without reference to the father, they are simply wasted.

5. Conclusion

And so we come to the conclusion of the matter. In all of this we see God’s covenant love. Though the relationship is severed between son and father. Between son and family. Between son and community and congregation. Even so the father remains father. Son remains son.

There is a striking relationship between this parable, between this request of the younger son and Lord’s Day 46. There the catechism deals with the Lord’s Prayer and the way we address our Father. There we read and confess that God has become our Father through Christ and will much less deny us what we ask of him in faith than our fathers would deny us earthly things.

This is what the Lord Jesus teaches in Matt 7:9 and Luke 11:11. Our Father, when we ask in faith will grant us good things. He will also, however, often grant us things we want and demand even when we seize them in rebellion. But he always remains the Father. His Word continues to come to us. His Holy Spirit continues to seek us out. Hear then the voice of the good shepherd calling! See with the eye of faith your Father waiting for you.   Amen.

The Son Returns

Liturgy:

Scripture Reading: Psalm 51

Text: Luke 15:14-20

Psalm 93:1,4

Psalm 51:2,4

Psalm 40:1,4

Psalm 40:5,6,7

Hymn 63

Congregation of the Lord Jesus Christ

Introduction

When children, infants grow, they soon are confronted with mirrors. Mother changes them on the counter and then holds the babe in front of the mirror. At first, the child does not recognize himself. He is just curious about those people over there. He sees two: one who looks like mom, and a little stranger smiling and waving and babbling. And then suddenly the expression changes. The child, the toddler, in a moment understands. He sees—not a stranger—but himself. He sees in the stranger one who acts in similar ways. In his little mind, he says, "That’s me!"

And so it is with parables. Especially I think, in this parable. We often only listen to it as an interesting tale. A story about a bad son, with whom we have very little to do. He is a rather irresponsible fellow. Certainly, he is like many we have come to know over the years. Perhaps last time you were thinking of someone who, like that younger son, left home to seek his fame and fortune apart from the family home apart from the gospel of Jesus Christ. And we might even feel a little sorry for him, although we figure that at his lowest, he gets what he deserves. But yet, when all is said and done, there seems to be a happy ending, and that pleases us because we like happy endings. And as we hear the parable we think that perhaps there is some similarity and familiarity with what we are hearing. Then suddenly as you hear the story, as you listen to and understand the parable, you say in amazement, "It’s me. There I am. That irresponsible son, that’s me."

This parable of the Lord Jesus was not told to entertain but to educate. And not to educate us about others, about other parents’ wayward sons, but to cut to the core of our own being. To the heart of each of us. To teach us about our own relationship with the heavenly Father. To teach us of Christ who came to seek the lost and to save sinners. When we carefully gaze into the parables of Jesus, we suddenly see ourselves. And the father is the Father in heaven who waits for us. It is Jesus Christ himself who welcomes us. Stand here quietly with me and look carefully in the mirror of God’s Word. I invite you to gaze with me into this mirror that the Lord Jesus Christ sets in front of us and see yourself.

I proclaim the Word of God as it comes to us in the Lord’s parable with this theme.

The son, having lost everything, returns.

1.      He lost himself

2.      He lost his sonship

3.      Finding home

1.      He lost himself

The young man spends his wealth wildly. He lives as one of the lonely people… where do they all come from? He spends his money wildly. The capital he received from his father is wasted. He used, and abused, and squandered what his father had given him. There he is, in that far off land. He went far, because if there was anything that reminded him of his childhood home, it would cramp his style. When the son left home, he was not just leaving father behind. He was saying, "No" to the father. This is in a sense, Adam’s rebellion: his rejection of the God who loved him; in whose love he was created; by whose love he was sustained. It is Adam’s rebellion, which placed him outside the garden. It is mankind’s rebellion, our rebellion, far from the tree of life.

The young man left home with pride and money determined to live his own life. Far from father, and family, and community. Now he has lost everything. Pride, wealth, community and family. When he had wealth and spent it in wild living we can imagine that he did it with his new found friends, who enjoyed his wealth. But now, no one in his surroundings cares one whit for him. They only noticed him, this stranger, when he had money. But when he now has no money left to spend, no gifts left to give, no parties at his place, he stopped existing for them. He is a foreigner, a stranger, a vagabond, a rootless person, a visitor with no family in a distant land. Real loneliness sets in. This happens with the realization that we have lost all sense of having things in common. Poverty has come upon him like an armed man. Then, to make things even worse, a serious famine strikes the land. There is no rain. Food is scarce. The economy grinds to a halt. Employment is hard to find. Here is this lone Jew in a far land, without money or friends. He would be especially vulnerable in a great famine. And he began to be in need. So he begins to look for work.

He joins himself to a Gentile, to work for him. Here this young Jewish nobleman attaches himself to the household of a Gentile. This, of course, is a reference to what we read in the first verse of this chapter. The tax collectors had hired themselves out to the Romans to do their work. They were the collaborators, the Quislings, the NSBers, the Benedict Arnolds of the Jewish world. Traitors! Unclean, vile sinners. These are the ones who so offended the Pharisees and the teachers of the law. These are the ones who, when Jesus ate with them, robbed the Lord of credibility in the eyes of the leaders of the people. This young man in the parable hired himself out to a Gentile, just like a tax collector. First he lost the family inheritance among the Gentiles, in itself an affront to Jewish custom and an intolerable sin, but now he is hiring himself out to the Gentiles. Step by step he is losing himself. He is losing his identity. He does no longer know who he is.

Is this not the sickness of our age? We live in a culture that does not know itself or its roots. A culture that in one generation no longer knows of Jesus Christ, of God or of the cross. Think about the art that’s created, the music that we listen to. Is not creativity squandered when the design of creation is no longer a part of the artistic process? When the mystery of form and balance and harmony is abandoned, is it not because the artist no longer knows the thoughts of the Father, the Creator, and that the Creator’s theme and overture have escaped his ear and eye? Art then becomes merely the expression of dim dreams, faint hopes, the musings of a man who contemplates the world and thinks: "I must say something; but what is there to talk about?"

Our culture today is the culture of a young man who has lost himself because he has lost connection to the father. Our culture today, and it is a culture that infiltrates the church in many ways, is based upon the dreams of a homeless man who plods down the endless empty streets of time because the lights in the windows of father’s house no longer shine out above him. He is lost. And not only art and music but also science and business and farming. We too are in danger of being lost in the far country, disconnected from the father squandering our inheritance. We as Reformed people may be spending our inheritance, wasting it in frivolous living in a far country, far from the father’s house.

We are so busy, busy, busy. Perhaps we are so busy, because we are afraid to sit still. We need to turn on the radio, the TV, the VCR, Nintendo. We need diversion: sports, entertainment, work. But there is little time for Father. We live in an age of diversion and entertainment like no other age. The 500 channel universe. Satellite dishes to bring into our homes the emptiness of the far country. Because we are far from home, we are afraid to be alone. There must be something to do.

He was bound by his urges, so he had to satisfy them: alcohol, drugs, pornography. And then he is no longer free. Now he is bound by homesickness, so he must be entertained. He thought that leaving home brought freedom. He thought that leaving father’s house led to liberty. But he only found bondage. He thought that leaving father’s estate brought wealth and he found poverty. Poverty! That young man—his friends would have thought: How free! How marvelously free! So independent of his father! He is the superman! The man who lives his life as he sees fit! But the young man knows. He knows his bondage. His chains. His shadowlands. His shackles. The world sees the façade: So beautiful and fine! But inside it all is a botched up life. The young man hears the rattle of the chains that bind him to his lostness. No one hears but him. No one knows but him—and the father who watched him go off into his bondage.

And so he goes from bad to worse. He hires himself out to a Gentile. This young man, never dependent on any man, subject only to his father, is now a hired hand. And so he loses not only himself but in a sense he loses his sonship.

2. He lost his sonship

The Greek text says that he attached himself to a citizen of that country. He kind of glues himself to some nobleman. To a rich landowner. How ironic! He had been son of a rich landowner. One who had servants, and hired hands, and day laborers. And he had been the inheritor. He had been the son. And now here he is, attached to someone else’s household. He, who had been free, becomes a subject. He, who had been a son, becomes a slave, a servant. He becomes a hired man and has to work in the field for a man other than his father. A stranger in a strange land.

He is under a master, a man, who has no interest in him, for whom he hardly exists. He is given the lowliest job there is. A swineherd. [[This is no comment on those who raise hogs today; this is a different age.]] Even among the Gentiles of the day, this was a lowly calling. In Egypt, for example, only the swineherds were banned from any and every temple. If shepherds we considered among the lowliest of the land, then a swineherd was the lowest: nothing was worse than caring for pigs. This was the bottom of the social class. Even among Gentiles. It is as if the landowner in politeness attempts to turn away the foreigner. "Yes, I have work: You may take care of my pigs." He offers this job in the hope that the lad will have some pride and leave for other places. It is like a boss who wants to get rid of an employee without firing him. Transfer him to Inuvik. To Tuktoyuktuk. "He will quit before he goes there. I’ll give him the dirtiest job around, perhaps he’ll go away." This citizen of the faraway country—He knows by the accent and dress that the foreigner is a Jew. "He will certainly refuse. He will not work with pigs." Pigs are unclean to Jews.

But the young Jew, he takes the job. And in so doing, loses his identity. He works for a Gentile: he would work on the Sabbath. He tends pigs. All connection to the father’s house is broken. He has abandoned everything. He is no longer a son. But he will do this for food. And yet goes hungry. His life is worse than that of the animals that he must care for. He would be glad to share with the animals the food that they will eat, but none will give him any. The pigs, the hogs, they get what no one wants. It is a famine and the swine they get, not the scrapings of the pot, but the husks—the pods—of a bitter plant. The pods of a carob tree, a bitter plant, that no one eats except in dire straits. Because of the famine, the people eat the bitter seeds of the carob shrub and the pods are fed to pigs. But there is no food, not even pods, for this lost lonely lad.

He likely complains. He likely asks for food, but no one listens or pays attention. He is but a foreigner. And he is starving. Dying of hunger. Alone. And so he realizes the end of freedom. He realizes what it means to have no father. He realizes what it means now not to be a son. He discovers lostness as the destiny of liberty. And so he comes to his senses.

He knows the truth. He knows that there is a father. That he has a father. He knows his father loves him. And he sees the bondage he is in. As servant of a Gentile. A stranger lost in a foreign land. Hungry. And so he resolves to return home. He has come to his senses. He says to himself: "How many of my father’s hired men have food to spare, and her I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father…." This thought will not release him. It is as if his loneliness has gripped his heart. The thoughts of father’s house are calling him. The memory of father’s house is calling him. He knows his father, that he is kind and gracious. His proud heart is broken. His spirit contrite. A flood of tears gives him release. For a long time, he has not mentioned father’s name. But now, now father’s name comes to his lips. He resolves to call on father. "I will set out and go back to my father. I will say to him: ‘Father I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men.’"

The father’s hired men have food to spare. He knows his father’s grace and kindness. He knows that his father’s workmen don’t go hungry. He knows that his father’s hired men will be treated kindly, even in the midst of a severe famine. "Among them there must be a place for me. And here I am hungry, dying among the Gentiles instead of dining among my father’s household."

Before we go on, we need reflect on this young man’s confession and on his planned request. We need to think about who might be found in father’s house. First, there are the children, the eldest son, now sole inheritor. Then the servants, born within the house, or long a part of the household. They share in bed and board. They participate in the father’s joys and sorrows. Then there is the paid staff. Those who work for the estate but are not part of it. And last are those who are hired on, on a daily basis. The hired men. These have no participation in the estate. They are hired, but are not part of the large family.

And this is where this young man plans to seek a place. Among the hired men. He hopes he might share in the grace of the father, knowing that he has no right in the estate. He thinks that he might be accepted as a "hanger on." As one out on the fringes. For even for those whom the father does not know, his gracious giving flows.

The son has seen how unworthy he is. He has lost his sonship. And so, he plans to come to father and asked that be me made as one of the hired men. Made. He knows that he must go to father and call him thus: Father. But he will ask that he be made into a hired man. He will, in front of his father, and his elder brother, and the servants, the paid staff, even before the hired men—he will humble himself. See then that he longs for more than bread. He longs for the comfort of father’s home. Where even among the lowliest the grace of father flows generously. He longs for the fellowship of his father’s home. He wants to and longs to belong again. But he has squandered his inheritance. He is no longer worthy to be son. He has lost his sonship. He has lost his identity. And yet he longs for home: For father’s home.

3 Finding Home

And so he sets out. He got up and set out to find home. This does not mean that he was sitting down. Or that he was lying about, down with the hogs. No, this describes the changing of the mind. This is the repentance that has come upon this young man. He will stand up and gird himself. He will wrap his robe, now rags, about himself, and with herder’s staff in hand will set out for home and find it. Weak and spent from the depths of his misery he turns to home. He plans his confession of sin. How many times he must have practiced what he was to say! Our text tells us that he was saying these things. He was repeating them.

He realizes now that he has sinned against heaven and his father. When a Jew would say that he sinned against heaven, it was a way of saying that he had sinned against God, without taking God’s name on his lips. This young man realizes that his sin first of all is against God. And is this not the case? Think of Psalm 51, where David confesses his sin with Bathsheba and Uriah. He says to the Lord, "Against you, you only have I sinned."

This is the confession of this young man. "I have sinned against heaven, father. In my refusal to submit to your authority, in my rejection of your covenant home, in my denial of my sonship, in my sin against you, I have sinned against God." If there had been only guilt towards father, then this young man would still not have understood the depths of his misery. But it was because he understood that he has sinned against heaven—in that we see that he is on the way to true repentance. This young man is a poor, poor, man on his way back to his father. He is a poor, poor, man seeking home. He has realized that separating from his father to gain freedom is as absurd as that a person should fret over being dependent on air and so, to assert his freedom, should hold his breath.

He is disgusted with himself. He sees his father’s house in his mind’s eye. He sees that which he has lost and to which he has no claim. He sees his father and knows that he has no sonship. But now he sees his father’s face and knows that father waits for him. He looks down upon his empty hands, his dirty clothes, and feels ashamed and fears to even lift his eyes up to his father, and yet he knows that father waits for him.

There is one bell, one clarion call, which is heard above all the noise, all the tinkling of the chimes, all the clashing of the cymbals of the far country. There is one voice that is heard above all the hubbub of the distant land. That voice, that call, has never ceased. It rings within his heart. He hears it in his ears and he listens and he follows.

This repentance of this lost son is not just something negative. It is not just disgust with self. It is not just loneliness. It is not just homesickness. It is not just self-interest. It is not just turning from the world, from the pigsty of this age. It is not just turning from something. It is turning to something. A turning back home. Whenever the New Testament speaks of repentance, there is the sound of joy as background. Scripture does not say, "Repent! Or hell will burn you up." It does not say, "Repent! This is your fire insurance." No! It says, "Repent! The kingdom of heaven is at hand!"

When the son has come to the end of his road, then God begins with his. The end, from man’s point of view, is the beginning from God’s point of view—that is repentance. Disgust with yourself will not heal. Sorrow in itself will not cure. Disgust and sorrow in this world, of this world, is a repentance that leads to death (2 Cor 7:10). It is a misery that leads to nihilism. To an emptiness that none can fill. To despair.

No, it is the other way around! It is that he has seen in his mind’s eye, his father’s house again. That is why he is disgusted with himself. Because he knows that father loves him still. It was the father’s influence from afar. It was not the far country that disgusted him and turned him home. It was the consciousness of home that drew him away from the far country in disgust. It is the Holy Spirit working in his heart. It was the call of father. It was the voice of the Good Shepherd calling out his name.

And so the lost son arises and goes home. In all his rags, he dares to approach his father’s house. And he practices his confession. He does not say: "Father, I have grown up now. I have suffered and atoned for my errors. I have learned from the school of hard knocks. I have paid for my sins. I have a claim to your love. Take me as I am." So many say when a young man, or woman, leaves father’s house for a while, that it is just a stage they go through. That they need to sow their wild oats. That they will learn from this experience. And that they will be a better person for it. That in this way they will better appreciate the love of father’s house. But Jesus’ parables say nothing of this.

The son who is coming home practices his confession. "Father I have sinned against heaven and against you! Make me a hired servant." And yet this man has not yet learned, he does not really know his father. His confession, which he practices on the long hard journey home, the words that he repeats again and again, are like saying this: "I will go to father and confess my errors in the hope that he will give minimal punishment for my impudence and that he will allow me to survive on the condition of hard labour." He knows that he can cast himself on father’s love, but yet he fears his anger, his wrath, his justice. He dares not ask forgiveness. He comes confessing sin, seeking a place, a small place where blessing might splash over into his life…. but he will work hard for it.

We know that in this parable, the son is received back home. But this is not because of his great maturity. It is not because of the lessons he learned in the far country. It is not even because of his repentance or his sincerity. It is not by his promise of hard labour. Not even his confession earned him his restoration. It is only because of father’s love that he is received back home. That father embraces him. [We will hear more of this another time].

Here a man has no claim at all. Here a sinner has no right at all. And by his father’s love he found home. Found sonship. Found himself. It is the amazing, gracious mystery of God’s love in Christ, that he seeks the lost, that he waits for their homecoming, that he embraces us at all. Have you seen yourself within the mirror?

Amen

The Elder Son

Liturgy:

Reading: Deut 21:15-21; Luke 14:16-24

Text: Luke 15:25-30

Hymn 22

Psalm 142:1,2,5,6

Psalm 73:1,7

Psalm 63:2,3

Psalm 147:1,4

Congregation of the Lord Jesus Christ

The parable of the lost son, the prodigal son has two halves. It is about two sons. A man had two sons. In the first half, we hear of the younger son who asks for his share of the inheritance. We hear of how he leaves home, leaving father and brother behind. We hear of his riotous living, his remorse, his return. And how his father welcomes him home. But now we have the second part. The second son. What of him?

This morning I would speak to you of how

The elder son also rejects his father’s love.

1.      He will not go in.

2.      He is without joy.

3.      Is he also lost?

4.      The true elder Brother.

1. He will not go in.

The elder son… (It is striking that the Lord uses the word "presbyter" for elder here. Is there a reference to the leaders of Israel who will not accept that the Lord Jesus Christ welcomes sinners and eats with them?) The elder son—We meet him in the fields. We have not heard from him since he accepted the division of the estate. He is out working. Diligently working. Now we should not imagine that this is a house on a farm surrounded by fields. No, this house is in the village and the fields could have been far away. It is as if the elder son has been working, overseeing the work in a distant quarter section. At the end of the day, he returns. He walks the same road that his younger brother walked earlier that day. But his father is not watching for him, for he returns every day. He goes out to work; he returns. He comes near to the house, and what does he hear? He hears that a party is going on.

There is music, singing, dancing. The pipes were playing, drums and castanets, songs rang out. There was no doubt. This was a celebration. It is clear that he hears a loud, boisterous, joyous party in progress as he comes near to home. He must have wondered, "What is going on? Why don’t I know about this. Why was I not informed? Why was I not even invited?"

And we might ask the same. Why does he not know? Well, perhaps the father knew that if he notified the elder that he would try to stop the celebration. Or perhaps there was no time, the son was already on his way home. In any case, in these circumstances we see more clearly the difference, one from the other. One brother from the other. And also their similarities.

As soon as the father decides to kill the fattened calf, he needs to invite people to the feast. This is a feast of great proportion. It is perhaps like a wedding banquet. A fattened calf was fed and reserved for very special functions. It would likely be a year old or so and be of quite a weight. It could feed fifty, a hundred or more. The invitations go out. Up and down the street. There is a festive mood in the air. The neighbours come. They’re all invited. Just as the woman who lost a coin and found it invited all her neighbours, now the father invites the whole village. The music plays, the folk songs are heard, the children laugh and play. All attention is focused on father’s house.

The calf is not roasted on a spit. That would take much too long. It is cut in pieces and roasted in the bread ovens. As the men come home from the fields for the evening meal they would have heard the news. "There is a feast tonight! Unexpected joy. That son, our neighbour’s son, the one who went away, he has returned and his father is putting on a feast."

Everything is in motion. Commotion. When some of the meat is ready, (meat was not eaten often, only with feasts and festivals) the music starts. The village people come, sing, dance, drink wine, talk, eat, go out, come back in. The eating and drinking will last half the night.

And the older son? He hears the noise. He is suspicious. "What is going on here?" He calls a young boy. Our text says "servant." The word should likely be translated, "young boy." (He is not a servant of the house for he does not speak of his "master" but of the elder’s father.) He calls one of the boys in the street. The children would not be invited, but because of all the noise, the music and the joy, the children come. They cannot escape the excitement. There is likely a bunch of children on the street just outside the party.

He calls one of the boys and asks him what is going on. He does not just ask one question, but rather, he kept asking. He kept asking him questions. Our text implies a series of questions. He wants some details. The lad reports, "Your brother is back. Your brother is back safe and sound." The elder brother wants to know what is going on before he enters in. "Your father has put on a feast."

His brother is back. But is he back, wealthy or poor? Healthy or sick? And from the boy he hears the sad outcome of the younger’s adventure. He had lost everything. One third of the estate! And he will not go in. He will not celebrate. He does not care that his brother is home, "safe and sound" as the boy reports it. He does not care that there is a celebration. Well, yes he does care. He hates it. He despises it. He resents it.

Yet, custom requires his presence. The older son has a responsibility. He should be the maitre de. He should be at the door welcoming guests. That is his role as elder. He has a place in father’s home. A place of honour. He is the elder brother. If fact he needs to honour father with his presence. He needs to work together with his father.

But he will not go in. He knows that he must serve, welcoming the guests. He must serve, ensuring that all have enough to eat. He must do so especially for the honoured guests. The village elders, the rabbis, the teachers of the law. But more than that he would have to serve his younger brother, the guest honoured above all. And this he refuses to do. Hearing the news of his brother’s return, and of the celebration in his honour, he refuses to go in. He will not serve his younger brother; he will not honour his father.

2. He is Without Joy

The older son is angry. He is without joy. Everything left in the house is legally his. He has received the full right of inheritance. The will has been probated. The younger son gets nothing of what’s left. The elder gets it all. But the father still maintains authority. The elder has possession, but not disposition. The recently butchered calf is also his. Perhaps he feels that father had no right to do this without consultation. "It wasn’t his to kill."

And moreover, how could this be? How could the father reinstate the younger brother without some penalty? Village honour would not allow for this! "The family has been dishonored! And now we are going to celebrate?! Absurd behavior. I will not be part of this joy! I will not come to the banquet. I will not come." We hear an echo of that other parable of the Lord Jesus, of the king to whose banquet the invited guest would not come. And so he turns away from those who were invited and brings in the poor, the hungry, the lost.

Here too, this son, will not come to the banquet. But in so doing he insults his father and the guests. He does so publicly. Think of in the Old Testament story of Esther. King Ahasuerus calls for Queen Vashti, but she refuses to come into the banquet hall. In her refusal, she insults her husband the king. Moreover, her refusal is considered a threat to all the men and she is deposed at once. We would expect the father to be angry as well, with his elder son.

Word of the son’s refusal to enter spreads throughout the house. And then father hears. "Your elder son is outside but refuses to come in." The other guests expect him to be angry. "My son won’t come in? Why not? Of course he will come in!" We can imagine the elder, standing outside in the darkness, not wanting to enter into father’s house that is resounding with joy and celebration at the return of his younger brother.

The Pharisees complained of Jesus: "This man welcomes sinners and eats with them." This parable was Jesus’ answer to them. It must have come as a shock to these religious people. Would they come in and join the Lord? How would they respond to God’s love for sinners? It was a real challenge to them. It is a challenge to those whose lives are marked by complaint and discontent. We know of the elder brother’s bitterness and resentment and his lack of joy. There is no real happy ending here. This is not a fairy tale… "and they all lived happily ever after." No, it is a parable; it is a dissection knife to cut us to the quick. It leaves us face to face with God’s love. Not only do we have to do with the return of the younger son, the prodigal. We have to do with the bitter son, the elder. The resentful one.

For when he is invited, he vents his spleen and bitterness against his father. The more we gaze upon the elder, the more we see ourselves. For what does he say when invited in? When his father pleads with him? "Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet, you never gave me even a young goat (much smaller than a fattened yearling calf) so that I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!"

Notice what he says… or what he doesn’t say. His younger sibling practiced over and over, saying: "Father…Father. Father I have sinned. Father." But this son does no such courtesy. He does not speak to "Father". He speaks with anger and disdain to a master whom he believes unjust. "I’ve been slaving for you." This was the spirit in which he was working for his father. He was slaving. There was no thankfulness. There was no joy. No love. Just slaving. "Never did I disobey a command; I never disobeyed your orders."

The younger sibling wanted to be made a servant. A slave. One who slaves and works hard to earn his keep. This elder son also has the same idea of being in father’s house. That it is a matter of slaving and working and earning blessings. "And about that calf you killed, you never have given even a young goat to me that I might have a feast with my friends."

And here also the elder condemns himself. He thinks that the fattened calf demonstrates the worth of the young brother. He does not see that it demonstrates an expression of his father’s love. He accuses father of favoritism. "You obviously love this fellow, this worthless fellow more than you love me." His attitude is: "I have worked. Where is mine?" Amazing, isn’t it? He never disobeyed his father’s commands and yet insults him by refusing to come into the house. Even as his father invites him in.

This is the spirit of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law who confront the Lord Jesus. This is the spirit of the Pharisees by which the elder enters into the rank of the 99 who need no repentance (15:7). He has not disobeyed his father’s commands, yet has with this attitude and action broken the commandment of love.

He is like his younger brother in many respects, but also very different. The similarities and difference lie in this: The younger was estranged and rebellious while absent from the house. The elder was estranged and rebellious in his heart, while he was in the house. The estrangement and rebellion of the younger were evident in his surrender to passion and in his request to leave father’s house. The estrangement and rebellion of the elder were evident in his anger and his refusal to enter the house of his father.

The elder, by his own words, condemns himself. He declares in his little speech that he is not part of the family. He shows disgust with father’s house. He is no better than the younger who left with his portion of the estate and traveled to the far country. The difference lies in that the younger was open in his rebellion. The elder’s rebellion was in his heart: hidden, hardened, hypocritical. He remained in father’s house all the while hating his father. He denies a relationship with his brother. And in so doing with his father. He does not speak to "father" and he calls the younger, the prodigal, "This son of yours." He does not say, "My brother." No, he says, "this son of yours." He does not say, "My father." With this, he has removed himself from the family, from the household. He has passed judgment of "outcast" upon himself.

This can be seen doubly in his circle of fellowship. The elder’s friends do not include his brother or his father nor the family guests. The elder’s joy is in celebrating with his friends. A good meal, a party with friends, that is the occasion for joy. Not the return of a lost brother. For him there is no joy in that. There is no joy in celebrating with father. There is no fulfillment in rejoicing with the family. No, he wants to have a party with his friends.

Give him a goat, and apart from his family, he will rejoice. For the father the fattened calf was a symbol of his joy, a joy already present. The older son wants some good food to create a joy, a different joy. And here we see how far this son is from his father’s home and heart, even if he yet shares the hearth. He thinks that joy is rooted in pleasure. He does not see that joy is in knowing the father. That happiness is in knowing his brother. And that only pleasure can be found in having things. In things there is no joy or happiness or pleasure to satisfy the passions of the flesh. He has traded pleasure for joy and in the end has nothing but bitterness, happiness unknown.

He accuses the younger son of the master of the house (neither now counted among his own) he accuses the other son of not loving the master. "He spent your living. He wasted what you gave him. He is a rebellious son." One who should be put to death. We read from Deuteronomy 21. The elder wants to set the contrast. He places himself as one who has kept the commandments. He looks to father and says, "I have done everything you commanded me." He quotes from Deuteronomy 26:14. There the Israelite, in bringing the tithe of the firstfruits is to confess his faith. He is to say, "I have done everything you commanded me." And then he was to pray, "Look down from heaven your holy dwelling place and bless your people Israel…" But the elder’s hope is perverted. He does not obey in love and then expect blessing, undeserved grace. He obeys begrudgingly, expecting that in the end he would earn all that he had. That his father would pay him for his diligence and faithful obedience. And when he realizes that this is not the case he sets up his brother in contrast.

"He is a rebel. Put him out. Send him away. Better yet, bring him to the city gate that judgment be passed and he be put to death." The elder, his relationships are perverted. He looks at these and sees the two of them as aliens. The elder son no longer has a brother. Nor, any longer, does he have a father. He looks down upon his brother with disdain and scorn. His father, a slave owner, he looks up to with fear. His heart is bitter. His only redeeming characteristic is that he follows orders. This by his own judgment. "I never disobeyed."

The Lord said of some Pharisees that they tithed the mint and dill, herbs grown in a window box, but forgot love for brother and mercy; the greater things of the law. Such is this brother.

3. Is He Lost?

This elder son. Is he lost too? There are many who remain at home. Many who do not go off to the distant land. Many who do not mingle with the world. Many who do not despise their inheritance. But who, though they are at home, have lives characterized by judgment and condemnation, anger and resentment, bitterness and jealousy. Those things so pernicious to the human heart. Many who do not show the fruit of the Spirit but continue to live with the acts of the sinful flesh dominant in their lives.

We have a tendency to think of lostness as those whose acts are quite visible. Whose sin is shown in their departure from the church. The younger son sinned in such a way that all could see and identify easily. His lostness is obvious. He misused his money, his time, his family. What he did wrong, not only his friends and family knew, he knew it himself. He rebelled against restraint, against morality, against common sense. He rebelled against the father. He was swept away by greed and lust. Having seen how all this led to real misery, he came to his senses and returned to his father. A classic human failure. A straight forward resolution. A gracious father.

The elder however, is more difficult. He did all the right things. He was obedient, dutiful, law-abiding, faithful, hardworking, respectable. A model son. Faultless, as far as that goes. But when confronted with joy, surprised by joy, a dark power erupts from the darkness of his hidden, hardened heart. Suddenly this is not an obedient faithful son, but a resentful, proud, unkind, selfish, bitter one. A son who lived his life in service to his father, not because of love, but because of duty.

He has become a foreigner in his own house. True communion is gone. Every relationship pervaded, invaded, by darkness. He tried to be good, likeable, virtuous. But how much sin is rooted in this? Is it less than that of lust and wild living? There is resentment among the faithful. There is judgment, condemnation, and prejudice among the saints. There is so much anger against others among those who are so concerned with avoiding sin.

Was he lost? Yes indeed, he too was lost and needed to be found. He too was in a far country, though he had never left his father’s house. He thought that he could make it on his own. That he could earn his father’s love by simply obeying the commands. "Just tell me what to do, and I will do it, and so inherit the estate."

So many Christians live this way. They think that if they just follow the rules that they will be able to earn their reward. Yes, they know that salvation is not theirs by right. That Christ has secured their salvation. That his death paid for sin, removed the curse, restored their lives. And yet, somehow, somewhere, there is a sense that I must earn my place within the covenant blessing. But this is not the case. It is not earned, it is a gift of grace. It comes to us through the working of the Holy Spirit. All Father’s good gifts flow out from his abounding grace through his Holy Spirit and in the love which he has shown to us in the true elder brother.

And with this we will conclude this morning. A fourth point.

4. The true elder Brother

The Lord Jesus, the one who tells the parable, he has acted, lived, and obeyed as the true elder brother. The apostle Paul in Romans 8:29 says that those whom God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. He is the one obeyed all the commands, but he did this as the one who could do this perfectly. He is the one who welcomes sinners, lost sheep, you and me, to the banquet. He is the one who stands at the door and ushers us in. He is the one who serves at the table. The one who washed the feet of his disciples. He is the one who on behalf of the father makes sure that all will receive a place at the table, his table. He is the one who invites us all to join in the celebration banquet, the banquet that celebrates the repentance of sinners. He is the one who welcomes sinners and eats with them.

Even the words of the father to the elder son in the parable reflect the relationship between the Father and the eternal Son. "My son you are with me always, and all I have is yours." The Lord Jesus confirms that the glory that belongs to the Father, belongs to him too. All that the Father does, the Son does too. There is no separation between the Father and the Son: "I and the Father are one." There is no division of work, no envy, no competition. "The Son can do nothing by himself, he can do only what he sees the Father doing." The Lord Jesus Christ teaches us that there is perfect unity between the Father and the firstborn son, the eternal son. The firstborn among his many brothers. He says, "You must believe me when I say that I am in the Father and the Father is in me."

Jesus is the true elder brother. He is the elder brother who did what the elder in the parable should have done. He is the one in whom the Father’s love was shown to all his resentful children. He is the one who has shown us the way home: he is the way. He is the beloved Son on whom the Father’s favour rests.

But what of the elder son in the parable. What of him? Did he go into the banquet? The question is left open because the question is for us. We are to see ourselves also in this, the elder brother. The mirror is held up for us to see ourselves. Not only can we be like the prodigal who goes away and lives in lust and passion. We can be like the elder who rigorously keeps the commandments and yet has no love and joy within the household of the father. We can refuse to enter into the banquet hall because we see sinners sitting there. There are at times those who say they cannot sit at the Lord’s Table because they see a sinner sitting there—as if they themselves were not. No, they kept all the commandments, "but that one there, that son of yours, he is a sinner."

So did the elder brother come into the banquet? The question hangs, suspenseful, unresolved. Did he go in? We do not know. The Pharisees, the teachers of the law, they saw the kingdom of God as a banquet, but no sinners would be welcome there. They would have seen in this parable however, that the banquet celebrates undeserved blessing, pure grace. Will they go in? We do not know.

Will you go in? Will we go in? Or will we be resentful, legalistic, lashing out in anger? The true elder brother, the Lord Jesus Christ stands at the door to welcome you. He will serve at his table. Your Father invites you in. Will you come to the banquet?

Amen.

The Father Receives Sons Home

Text: Luke 15:20-24; 28-32

John L. van Popta

Liturgy:

Text: Luke 15:20-24; 28-32

Reading: Isaiah 9:6-7; 57:14-21; 61:7-11

Hymn 19:1,2,5,6

Psalm 143:1,6

Hymn 15:3,4

Hymn 54

Hymn 65

Congregation of the Lord Jesus Christ

When we read the parable of the man with two sons, because we know the story so well, we often do not see all the difficulties it presents. We think, because we know it so well, that we also understand it so well.

A Muslim has said of this parable, however, that it proves that the cross is unnecessary for forgiveness. The boy comes home. His father welcomes him. There is no cross. No incarnation. Therefore, Islam with no cross, no Saviour, presents the true gospel.

And then hearing this comment we look back at the parable and we say, "Yes, there seems to be no cross, no Saviour." Nevertheless, this is a parable told by the Saviour! How can this be? How can this parable, which many have called Evangelium in Evangelio, the Gospel in the Gospel, how can this parable then not teach us of Christ, if Christ is the one who tells the story?

How can there be no incarnation, no mediator, no Saviour and yet we celebrate the birth of a Saviour at Bethlehem?

This morning then we will try to answer these and some other questions and so close off our treatment of this tale of two sons. (This being the fourth time we have looked at this parable.)

I proclaim the Word of God to you as it comes to us in the person of the father in this parable. I do so with this theme:

The father loves his sons and receives them home

1.      The father welcomes sons home.

2.      The father calls for a celebration.

1.      The father welcomes sons home.

The mid-eastern landowner lives in a village, not out on his land. Today this is so; it was thus also in the past. This is universally evident from archeology and from documents of the day. Therefore, when the Lord told this parable, we can confidently say that the people hearing it would have imagined the father living in the village.

Now about that father, living in the village. Perhaps the father imagines that his younger son will fail. He anticipates that his son will return someday. Many others in the village, however, assume that he is dead. Or as good as dead. He has left his father’s home and hearth. He has rejected his father’s heart. And the village would have cast him out of their memory. A failure and maybe dead. He may as well be dead. At least they know him to be lost. Lost in more than one way.

Yet the father longs for his son. He waits for him. The others in the village would have talked about the father, and how he did this impossible thing. He had given one third of his estate to his son who then had left with it in hand. They might have told the father that he should not have done this thing. At least they are talking about the father and his strange lack of wisdom. His foolish act. Yet, the father waits for him. Maybe… maybe… he will return one day. Maybe as a beggar. Maybe as a failure. But yet the father waits.

The father also knows that if his son returns the young man will have to face the citizens of the village. He knows how the crowd will treat him. He will draw great crowds. Think of the return of Naomi in Ruth chapter one. The whole village asks about her. The whole community is abuzz. The prodigal, if he ever returns, will most certainly be met with scorn and mockery. A crowd will assemble spontaneously as word flashes through the town that the father’s son has returned. A proverb of the day (not from the book of Proverbs) says that there are four things that terrify—two of them are, "slander by a whole town, and the gathering of a mob." As soon as the son would return, if he would dare, he would have to face the mob. He will be taunted and scorned for losing his inheritance. He will be verbally and maybe even physically abused.

In the days of the Lord Jesus, there was little worse that a son could do than loose his inheritance to Gentiles. They even had a ceremony to ban and shun such a looser. The community would shout out together, "So and so is cut off from his people!" From that point on, the village would have nothing to do with such a one. He would be excommunicated, cast out, shunned, disciplined. And this, the father knows. He knows his son, if ever he would return, would face the scorn of the village. The father is painfully aware of what a homecoming would be like for one who has rejected the village community. His son would be humiliated.

So the father stands: watching, waiting, looking, anticipating the return of his son. We have heard that the younger son has a plan. A plan that he kept repeating on his way home. "‘Father!’ I will say, ‘Father, I have sinned….’" But the father, he too has his own plan. He knows what he will do if the day should ever come that news arrives that his son is coming home. He waits day after day, gazing down the village street to the roadway in the distance. He looks to the horizon over which his son had left with high hopes and arrogance. The prodigal, on the other hand, that wastrel son, he knows that he will be an outcast. That he cannot come back into the family. He knows the ceremony of excommunication, of shunning, of banning.

The prodigal knows that he should return with generous gifts for his family. Instead all that he can do is practice his confession: "I will set out and go back to my father…and say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men. Do not have me as a son. Make me work to earn my keep. Only take me back. I’ll make it worth your while. I will earn my place within your home. Take me back, lest I die of hunger.’"

He is repentant, but as we saw the other time, he does not know his father well. He thinks that he can earn his keep. That his place within the covenant home is an earned place. However, he will learn something new today as he approaches home. For father also has a plan. And he puts his plan into action. He will reach the son before the son reaches home. He will achieve reconciliation in public and then no one in the village will dare to treat the lost son badly. His son will not be banned, or shunned, or cut off from the people, if only he can reach his son first. And so he waits, watching, looking down the road.

Then the father sees him, he sees him, while he is still far off. He sees his son in the distance. And that great distance is not only a distance of meters or miles, but it is also still a spiritual distance. The son, having come to his senses, returns to his father, but yet he is far off the mark. The prodigal thinks that he can earn money and so solve the problem. Yes, even as he comes near, he is far off; he is at a great distance.

In Isaiah 57:19, we can read that God affirms peace to those who are far off and to those who are near. This, the father sets out to do. Through a great dramatic action, he is going to announce peace to one who is far off. Who has been at a great distance. And then he will proclaim peace to one who is near (the older brother.)

And so the father again breaks the pattern of a mid-eastern patriarch. He takes the bottom of his robes in hand and runs out to meet his pig-herding son in the street. He grabs him in his arms and kisses him. He does this before his long lost son is able to confess his sin. Even as Isaiah 57 says, "I was enraged by his sinful greed… yet he kept on in his willful ways. I have seen his ways, but I will heal him; I will guide him and restore comfort to him." The father does not demonstrate his love to his son in response to his son’s confession. No, but out of his own compassion, he empties himself, assumes the form of a servant and runs to be reconciled to his estranged son.

Mid Easterners do not run in their robes. Dignified men do not run. An ancient proverb says, "A man’s manner of walking tells you what he is." In Eastern eyes, it is so terribly undignified for an elderly man to run. Even Aristotle wrote, "Great men never run in public."

The father had compassion on his son and will heal him, guide him, restore him. He does not wait for his son to make his way into the village. He does not wait even for his son to speak. Rather the father assumes a humiliating posture for his child. He kisses his dirty son; he hugged his son in rags. The father speaks no words there at the edge of the village. He substitutes kisses for words. His hands and arms for speeches.

His son is overwhelmed. He can only offer the first part of his practiced speech. "Father I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son." His practiced speech takes on new meaning. He now understands that he cannot work in order for reconciliation to be achieved. He cannot be a hired hand and so earn his place in father’s household. Reconciliation comes only through the unconditional love of the father. He sees suddenly that the only way home is through his father’s heart. The father does not interrupt his son or cut him off. It is not as if the son began and father spoke. No, now there is genuine repentance. And father escorts his son back into the village.

The younger son sees father’s grace demonstrated in his condescending action of becoming a servant. Of putting off his glory. Of running and hugging and kissing before he can speak. The son thought that reconciliation would come by his acceptance of a position of servant. That reconciliation would come through humbling himself and taking of the role of servant. But it is the father who humbles himself. It is the father who becomes the servant.

The father has come down and out to reconcile his child to himself. And so the we see that the father becomes a symbol of Christ Jesus himself. This is not God the Father of the Trinity, but God who has become our father. He is the son who is born to us. Who was born at Bethlehem. Of whom Isaiah wrote in 9:6, Whose name shall be "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Prince of Peace, Everlasting Father."

He proclaims peace to those who are far and who are near. At Christmas we commemorate in a special way that God came down and out to us in the person of the eternal Son, born as Jesus in Bethlehem, that he might meet us on the road and reconcile us to himself. Though he was in the form of God, he made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness (Philippians 2). The father in the parable is God in Christ.

In the Old Testament the shepherd is God the Lord, Yahweh (Psalm 23; Jeremiah 23; Ezekiel 34). The Lord Jesus transforms that Old Testament image to be an image of himself. The Good Shepherd of John 10, the seeking shepherd of Luke 15. The Old Testament Father is fulfilled in the person of Jesus Christ.

The Pharisees had murmured, "This man welcomes sinners and eats with them." The Lord replies with this story. "Yes, I do eat with sinners, I look for them as a good shepherd would seek for a lost lamb. I seek for the lost, as a woman would her coin. Actually, it is even worse than you thought. I run down the road, when I see lost sons, and shower them with kisses and embrace them, and then escort them home that I might eat with them, for I am the father in the parable." The father in his self-giving love on the road is a symbol of Jesus. The Saviour. The Mediator.

This is reinforced in that he not only goes out to greet his younger son, he also goes out to meet his elder son. The one with a bitter heart: hardened, hurtful, hypocritical. We read how, when the father takes his younger brother home and kills the fattened calf, the elder will not come into the banquet. We heard last time how he would not go in. How bitter he was. How angry and hurt he was. How jealous he was when he thought that the father loved his brother best. "Father always loved you best! I will not come to the banquet." By his refusal, he engages in an unspeakable public insult to the father.

And the father hears that his son is outside, refusing to come in. He hears of the insult of his son. That he will not greet the guests. That he will not serve at table. It is like a son, here in our midst, who would get into a public shouting match with his father in the middle of a banquet after a wedding of the oldest daughter. A disagreement, even shouting at each other, that might happen between a father and a son, but not at sister’s wedding banquet. The guests would not know where to look or what to do. Many would simply get up and go home. Such was the insult of the elder son.

The older son’s rejection of his father’s reconciliation with the younger leads the elder to break his relationship with his father. And what does the father do? Does he throw his hands up in despair? "I have gained one son, at the cost of the other?" No, not at all! Is he angry with his elder son? Does he simply ignore him, leaving him to sulk in the darkness? "I’ll deal with him later." No, not at all! Once again, the father does the unexpected. The radically different. The surprising.

For the second time in a day, he is willing to offer a costly demonstration of love. Only now, his love is shown to the law keeper, not the lawbreaker. Amazing grace is shown to both sons. The father, as patriarch would have been expected to ignore his petulant elder son. He would be expected to ignore this insult and deal with the matter later. But, no, again he goes out. Now, not running down the street to greet his child, but he goes out into the courtyard to plead with his son, within earshot of his guests. In painful public humiliation, the father goes out to seek the lost child, the lost sheep. He goes out with sorrow. This one is so close, yet so far away. He lives in the midst of covenant blessing and yet has no joy. We see the father going out, a grief observed.

God in Christ goes down and out into the darkness to call his law-keeping child into the light. He humbles himself. He invites him in. Nevertheless, angrily, the elder says, "All these years I’ve been slaving for you. I have been your servant. Now I’m angry; I’ve had it!"

But why was that elder son so angry at his father’s actions?

2. The father calls for a celebration.

Because the father had called for a celebration (our second point). He called for the very best for his younger son. He had called for a feast, a banquet. And why did he throw this feast? The reason lies at the heart of the parable.

In this parable, however, there are three interpretations, three reasons given, for the feast. Each is important for us to examine. The father tells us why he wants to have a feast. The boy in the street tells the elder brother why there is a banquet. And the elder brother has his opinion.

The father has gone out to meet his younger son and is escorting him back into the village. Reconciliation has been assured and he says, "Let’s have a feast and celebrate!" Why? "Well, because this son of mine was dead and is alive; he was lost and is found." The father does not say that the son was lost and has come home. He does not say that he had left and now returned. Instead, he says, "He was lost and is found." So who found him? The father did! Where? At the edge of the village. The son was still dead and lost at the edge of the village. Just as the shepherd had to pay a high price to find his lost sheep; even as the woman had to work diligently to find the lost coin; so also the father had to go out with a costly demonstration of unexpected love to find and to resurrect his son from the dead. The banquet is a celebration of the success of finding and resurrecting the dead and lost child. The father is celebrating his own work in his young son.

And what of the boy in the street? What does he say when the elder brother asks? He says to the elder, "Your brother has come and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound." But better, perhaps, would be to translate the that he has his son back in peace. For that is what it says: He has him back in peace. The word used here is a common word used for "peace" through out the Greek Old Testament. The word means good health but it means so much more. It does not just mean safe and sound or in good health. It was a word used in greeting. We might say—as many do in Dutch—we might say to someone who is facing a challenge, sterkte. But we mean much more than strength. We mean, "May you receive all that you need in what ever circumstance you face. May you receive from the Lord, not just physical strength, but also emotional and spiritual peace for the task at hand." Thus this word is used here. The boy says that the father has received his child back in peace.

The father is not just celebrating that his rebellious son has returned safely. No, he rejoices that reconciliation has been achieved, reconciliation between the child and himself, and between the child and the village. The boy confirms the father’s interpretation. The banquet is a celebration for the father’s success at reconciliation and peace, not just that the lost son found his own way home. The father has received his son, a sinner and is eating with him. This was the charge of the Pharisees against Jesus. This is the confirmation of the boy. Both the father and the boy testify that in the story the father is a symbol of Jesus.

And what of this banquet? What does it all mean? What does the father do, when he has received and kissed his son? He calls his servants and commands them; he orders them into action. The servants are there with the father. They have run down the street after him. That must have been quite a scene, don’t you think? The father running, his servants running after him!

The father commands his servants to dress the son as they would a king. The young swine-herder is not told to take a shower and get changed. No. The servants are to dress him. The servants are told to respect this son and to receive him in peace. They are to give him the best robe: the father’s own, undoubtedly. The boy had taken all that he had and squandered it. He has no garments, just rags, filthy rags. Now his rags are exchanged for robes. The best robes.

Those who come to the feast must see that he is dressed in the robes of his father. And in Isaiah 61:10 we hear of robes. "He has clothed me with garments of salvation; he has arrayed me in a robe of righteousness." Think of Matt 22 where a man dared to enter the wedding banquet without the robes supplied by the king. It did not go well with him. But most of all, think of Zechariah’s vision in the third chapter of his prophecy. Zechariah sees Joshua the high priest in dirty clothes. The angels are commanded to remove the dirty clothes and put on clean clothes and so remove his sin. By this, God takes his guilt away.

The father—Jesus then—has servants dress the sinner in his own robes of righteousness. Freely given, unasked for, garments of salvation. Moreover, he gives him shoes for his bare feet. Only slaves go barefoot. Think of the Negro spiritual. All of God’s chillun got shoes. / When I get to heab’n / I’m goin’ to put on my shoes. Shoes are for the wealthy. Even today, new shoes make us walk tall and proud. A magazine article tells of children in Africa who were asked what they wanted. Some simply said, "Shoes."

The father—the Lord Jesus—dresses the sinners with whom he desires to eat with the signs of freedom, the freedom of the children of God. He does not want hired servants, but guests dressed in his robes. He does not want slaves, but guests with shoes. He gives them a ring. A ring was a sign of authority and honour: of royalty. The children of God are to be at the feast, the banquet table, robed in righteousness, wearing a ring of royalty, with the footwear of freedom. And he puts on the great banquet. A banquet for a hundred or more. The boy is to be reconciled to the whole community. The joy is to be shared and celebrated with the grandest banquet imaginable.

What response is there to this from the son? Does the younger son say, "But father, I am not worthy to be your son. I like my plan better. Hear me out. I want to work my way back in"? No, he accepts grace. Pure grace. Grace wins the day. He knows now that he cannot make it up to the father. And now the father and his younger son can really have a celebration. Because grace has triumphed over sin and over works. Peace has come! Ah yes! The lost is found. The dead is made alive. Found by grace. Alive by grace. The lad had hoped to come home to confess and compensate. The lad who had planned to be a servant and a slave is overwhelmed and conquered by grace and so, though yet unworthy, becomes a son again. The two rejoice together, the father with his child!

Nevertheless, there is still a dark side to this parable. For how does that elder son interpret the banquet. What does he think of it all? For we left him outside in the darkness. Outside in the darkness of his bitter hardened heart.

The father hearing that his elder son is outside goes out to meet him. He goes out, not to rebuke him, nor to summon him, nor to challenge him, but to appeal to him. The father goes out to conciliate, to beseech his son. To stand beside his son and entreat him to share in his celebration.

If the father wants a slaving servant, he need not go out, for that is what he has in his son. He could simply scold him, beat him, and carry on. But no, he wants a son, not a rebel without a cause. And what does that elder say when his father invites him in to share in his joy of triumphant grace? When he asks his son to reconsider his hurtful hateful hubris. To set aside his wonton insolence and arrogance because of his excessive pride. What does he say? "You killed the fattened calf for him!" This is the exact opposite of what the father said he did or what the boy in the street told him. It is the opposite of the purpose of the banquet. The father’s banquet is one celebrating his own grace.

But the elder’s heart is full of envy, pride, bitterness, sarcasm, anger, resentment, hate, stinginess, self-centeredness. And in all this he thinks that he is defending honour: his and his father’s. He who is so near is so far. The father answers his son, in love. The father bypasses the omission of a title: his elder son does not address him as father. He ignores the bitterness: "this son of yours…." He passes over the jealousy, the anger. The father comes with grace and speaks to his son with gentleness and love. He speaks to his son, addressing him with a word of love. He does not address his son with a formal word for son, but a loving one. An affectionate one. He begins to speak to him by saying, "My dear child…." He reaches out to the elder as he did the younger. He embraced and kissed the younger, but the elder will not have it. So the father embraces and loves in his way of speaking: "My dear child…." These words come out of a wounded heart, a suffering one. The father desires to have both sons, both children within the house. Thus, in love, that knows not weariness, he was entreating his son. He continued to plead with him, but his son insults him with his bitter accusation. "You love him more than you love me." And the father reminds the elder that it is fitting to make merry and be glad, it is fitting to rejoice when lost sinners are found, when dead children come to life.

Moreover, as for the bitter complaint of slavery coming from that elder son, the father simply says, "You are heir. All of this is yours! You are with me always. What more do you want?" With this, the father removes the possibility that he loves the younger more. The father comes with unreserved, unlimited love for both his sons. No master would come out in love, with words of love and entreaty to a slave, and yet the elder complains of slavery and that he cannot take his inheritance and do what he wants with it. Here he is like his younger brother. He too wants his inheritance to spend it with his friends. "You never so much as gave me a young goat, that I might party with my friends." His desire is to be as his younger brother was. He knows not grace. He knows not love. He knows not joy.

Though the elder sees his father as a master for whom he slaved. Though he does not call him "father" and even though he speaks of the younger as that "son of yours", even so the father speaks gently to his "dear child" about his "brother." The father will not let the family dissolve in bitterness. He seeks the young and old, it matters not.

1.      Conclusion

In this parable, the Lord Jesus is teaching us of two types of people. Those who are lawless without the law and those who are lawless within the law. Both rebel. Both break the father’s heart. Both end up far away: one in a distant land, physically: one distant, spiritually, in father’s house. Both are near: one in the street, one in the court yard. To both, he shows unexpected grace and love. Both think of themselves as slaves, when what the father wants is sons. Moreover, father does not make them to be slaves; he makes them to be sons. In self-humiliation, he seeks the lost. In waiting watchfulness, he finds those distant, and brings them near. In wonderful grace, he brings to life that which was dead. He proclaims peace to those near and to those far. He invites his children to the joy of knowing grace in Christ.

Did the elder hear his voice? Was he found? Did he come to life again? We do not know.

Do you hear his voice entreating you? Do you see in Jesus, the father waiting for you? Do you hear in the preaching of the gospel, the grace of God coming to you? Do you see him seeking you, in love? Have you heard his invitation to joy, when lost sinners are found? One son was saved from death and servanthood. A second insisted on remaining a slave, a hired servant.

The father, however, welcomes sons home. Do you want him to make you a hired servant, working for your keep? Or do you want to be a son, and be seated at his banquet table?

Amen.