Based on a few comments I received today, I’ve decided to post this morning’s sermon. I wasn’t especially pleased with it but apparently a number of people in the congregation were, including one of my daughters.

The scripture passage for today was a famous, though misnamed, parable from Luke.

For better or worse, here it is. Kinda long… don’t feel like you have to read it.

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This is one tired old parable. It is perhaps the most famous, and famously dissected story in scripture. We hear the first line “There was a man who had two sons…” and we don’t need to hear anymore. The whole story unfolds in our heads.

That’s unfortunate. Unfortunate because the story along with the sermons it has spawned, has become so familiar that we almost forget it is a parable. We see it more as one of the events of Jesus’ life, as opposed to one of the stories he told.

We’ve given it a name. A name that Jesus didn’t and probably wouldn’t have given it: “The Prodigal Son,” because it reflects our belief that the story is about a son who wastes himself. Lately, over the last few years, I’ve heard clever preachers write sermons saying that the true point of the parable is the prodigal love of the father (the word prodigal can also mean wantonly generous). I’m certain that there is truth in such an interpretation, plus, seeing the whole thing through the eyes of the Father does make for a more interesting take on the parable.

And a parable it is, lest we forget. It’s a story made up by Jesus to teach something. The gospel writers go to some lengths to let us know that parables were Jesus’ primary method of teaching. And if you look at his parables you may notice something a bit disturbing. Jesus told some of his parables in order to get under the skin of his hearers. In fact, following Luke’s version of the parable of the unworthy tenants, the Pharisees quickly realize that, quote, “he had spoken this parable against them.” They are so mad that they want to arrest him right then and there but instead they hatch a plot to kill him.

I think the story we call The Prodigal Son is one of those parables, but Jesus put sugar on this particular pill… All through the story his audience (which Luke tells us consisted of tax collectors and sinners as well as Pharisees and scribes) thought they were listening to a lovely story of restored relationships. And perhaps they, like we tend to do, pictured themselves in the story as the prodigal; who returns in apparent shame and dishonor only to be the recipient of an incredible feast, thrown by an ever waiting father. Pretty amazing. Who wouldn’t want to be that character?

Jesus is a shrewd guy, though. His parables have points. Sharp points. As his audience is basking in the glow of honor and feasting and joy, Jesus reminds us of the character in the story we’ve forgotten about. He says, “Now the elder son was in the field…”

Uh oh.

Have you noticed that the elder son is the only character in this story who makes any sense. When he sees the partying and carrying on and finds out that it is for the waste case who has returned, he does what any sensible young man would do. He gets ticked off. We know the story, even if it is the part we gloss over. He criticizes his idiot father for throwing a feast for the no account son while he, the good kid, the hard working, obedient kid, gets nothing and has gotten nothing and won’t ever get anything because it’s always the good, sensible, hard working guys that wind up with nothing in the end anyway.

Up until the seemingly tacked-on ending, this was a knockout parable. A terrific story of redemption and grace and restored relationships and, of course, beef: it’s what’s for dinner. But instead of leaving us with some nice Thomas Kinkade image of a house with light flowing out of it, suggesting the happy inhabitants, all together in the end, the picture we are left with is of the Father standing alone in a field, hands at his side, palms out, pleading with his angry, older, and most importantly, obedient son. Why did Jesus have to go and ruin a perfectly good happy ending by bringing the older brother back in? Have you ever wondered about that? Why do we even need the older brother in this story, other than as a point of contrast to the foolishness of the younger one? Unless the older brother has a critical role in the story.

I think Jesus uses the long story of the son insulting the father, then dissipating himself in the far country before finally returning home, as sort of a prelude to the elder brother’s reaction. Sure, Jesus devotes only a few words to the elder brother, seeming to throw him in at the end as an accident. But a few words is all the space the elder brother needs. This story has a twist at the end.

Jesus speaks many of his parables as a challenge and reproof to his own people, the Israelites, and in particular the self appointed religious authorities, the Pharisees, Saducees, and Scribes. For Jesus, these groups represent institutionalized legalistic spirituality. Something which Jesus vehemently opposes.

This parable is a sneak attack on the religious people. And any of them who were really listening would have been offended at its implications.

It is a parable that still offends. Or, at least it can. The last time I had to preach about this particular parable, I got some people kind of mad at me. What happened was, I decided to create a one man drama out of this story from the elder son’s point of view. I took his anger over his foolish looking father as its starting point. How it intensified as he watched his Father waiting, staring down the road, hoping against hope. How it finally boiled over when he found out about the surprise party.

After recounting the final scene with the imploring Father I suggested that maybe the elder brother had become a bit more thoughtful about the situation. I concluded the sermon with this. “If his Father was still willing to call the prodigal ‘son’, maybe he’d better get used to calling him ‘brother.’ “

Out in the hall following the service a couple of people pulled me aside… in a spirit of brotherly love of course. And they challenged me. “How can you suggest that we are the older brother?”

I replied by saying that I thought I had done more than just suggest it and that Jesus himself had done the same when he told it.

They challenged me to prove that my interpretation was correct. I said that I thought maybe they were proving it right then.

I don’t think that made them any happier but it did end the conversation. Here’s the thing, though, I wasn’t trying to make them happy. And neither was Jesus when he told the story.

The Parable of the prodigal son is about both sons and about the Father as well. But if we’re looking for a place to put ourselves in the story… and that is the point of stories after all… we need look no further than the older brother. We are closer to him than we are to the prodigal.

Now, I hasten to add that this is not true if you don’t consider yourself a follower of Christ. If you don’t think of yourself as a Christian, Jesus may have meant for you to think of yourself in the prodigal’s shoes. He did tell this story to a crowd that included more than a few non-churchgoers. If you are such a person, Jesus says with this parable that God waits with open arms to welcome you into his embrace.

Now, about the rest of us. Remember that there were also Pharisees and Scribes in the room with Jesus. And I can imagine him turning to them as he says “now the elder brother was out in the field…”

They had probably been thinking that Jesus was finished, so where he might be going with this older brother business?

For those people, for the people who already considered themselves part of the in-crowd, the self-described children of God, the Prodigal Older Brother is a warning.

For some reason there is a resistance in us to identifying ourselves with the older brother. Though, the younger brother is no more attractive as a character. He tells his father to drop dead and runs off to pursue the good life, which remains out of his reach. Then in bankrupt shame he comes back with his tail between his legs. Yet most of us when we hear this parable put ourselves in the cast as the younger brother. I think it’s because we like picturing ourselves on the receiving end of God’s embrace. And we certainly wouldn’t stay outside in a huff if God invited us to his place for a party. Right?

Of course, the older brother in the story didn’t know about the party. Why not? Well, because he was working out in the field. Working. Getting his Father’s business taken care of. Being productive.

The only way he could have known about the party was if he wasn’t out in the field getting stuff done, but was instead standing at the head of the road waiting alongside his Father for the prodigal’s return.

So why didn’t the older brother know about the party? Because he wasn’t waiting with his Father for the return of him who was dead. This quasi-resurrection caught the obedient elder brother completely by surprise.

In fact, we could say of the elder brother that despite all his efforts, he actually failed to do his Father’s work. His Father’s work was to await the return and welcome the newly not-dead back home.

We don’t know what kind of work the elder brother was doing out in the field. Jesus doesn’t mention it. Why? Because it doesn’t matter. The only work that mattered, in this case, was the work of waiting, or let’s say it another way. The work that mattered was being with the Father, ready to do as he did. And this is precisely the work that elder brother failed to do.

I think, somehow, we do understand the implications of this story. That our work is to be ready to welcome, and in fact, to celebrate over whomever God decides to call ‘son’ or ‘daughter.’ Whatever their life was before, however they may have cursed God or ignored God or simply didn’t know anything about God. And we also understand that we’re not really like that. We feel we have to be about doing something for God, making ourselves useful, being productive, as we would put it, for the kingdom. There is a little older brother in us, and hearing this parable all the way through makes us just a bit uncomfortable.

And Jesus tells this story and in the telling, says to us, “watch with me. Be ready to rejoice over the work I am doing. Here comes one now… my child! He’s coming up the road! Will you run to him with me? Will you throw your arms around him and say “We’ve been waiting for you! It’s great to have you home!”