Scripture: Luke 15:11-32

The Parable of the Prodigal Son . . .  The Story of the Forgiving Father . . . regardless of the title we use, one truth remains.  According to the majority of literary experts, it is the only perfect story ever told.  Everything is there – intrigue, adventure, mystery, universal appeal, resolution – and it all happen in only a few short verses.

Now, if it is so perfect, why is it that when we Christians hear the words, There was a man who had two sons, our eyes glaze over and our minds check out?  Is it because we know the story and have heard the sermons?  Has it become so familiar and predictable it has lost its ability to shock and challenge?  Or, do we distance ourselves from the story because we have lived it and we know the pain of failing as a child, a parent, and a person of faith?  So, do we tend to ignore the story in an attempt to avoid dealing with our own inadequacies and failure?

Take, for example, the younger son – the prodigal himself.  How often have we, in the church, lifted him up as the perfect example of who not to be?   From the time we were young children sitting in Sunday school, we have been told of his faults and made aware of his multiple failings.  When we grew into adolescence, the description of him became more vivid as we learned how his disrespectful, rude, self-centered behavior eventually leads to a complete and moral meltdown! 

Let’s be honest.  When we stop to think about it, most of us have never heard a kind or compassionate word spoken about this younger son.  That is why we have come to believe that even the pigs were too good for him! 

Come to think of it, if we held ourselves to the same high standards we have set for the prodigal, would living among the pigs be too good for us, also?  After all, despite all the dire warnings to the contrary, a part of him is alive and well in all of us today. 

When was the last time someone in authority offered you a piece of unsolicited advice?  It may have been a parent, a teacher, a supervisor, or even a physician who said something that was intended for your own good but you perceived it as an unwelcome intrusion or a despairing remark.  Did you receive the information eagerly and respond enthusiastically?  Or, did you become angry and secretly vow to get even?  Did you thank the person politely for his or her obvious concern for your well-being?  Or, did your tongue become slippery allowing your mouth to out run your brain?  Have you ever continued to say mean and hurtful things long after you realized it would be best to be quiet?  Then, after making a complete and total idiot of yourself, have you ever tried to save face by setting out to prove the other person wrong in place of apologizing and moving on? 

Well, like it, or not, in those moments we are the prodigal son.  While the story doesn’t tell us what the exact problem was between the son and his father, we know it must have been a long standing dispute because in that culture to ask for an inheritance before the father’s death was, in essence, to say:  I wish you were dead!  Add to that the fact that ones complete identity was tied directly to ones family and we begin to understand that it was more than money that was at stake. 

Now the story tells us it took the son several days to actually leave.  The question is why.  After all, if the situation at home was that intolerable wouldn’t he have left immediately?  Wouldn’t he have thought it out and had a plan already in place?  But he waited several more days before leaving.  Could it be that he knew the whole thing was ridiculous and what he should do was unpack his bags and join his brother back out in the fields? 

Isn’t it amazing how much we will give up, how much pain we will endure, because we are too proud to say we are sorry?  In this instance, however, the prodigal keeps on going keeps on going until he loses everything including the pride that put him on that road to begin with.

Ironically, however, according to the late Swedish theologian, Henri Nouwen, even after the young man seemingly lost everything, one possession remained.  He was still a member of his family.  When he found himself desiring to be treated as one of the pigs, he realized that he was not a pig but a human being, a son of his father.  (Return of the Prodigal Son; p. 49)

So, he set out on the road that would lead him home.  But the hardest task was still before him.  He had to accept the fact that even a prodigal like himself could be forgiven – that his father would be willing to receive him back as a son not as a slave.