The prodigal son. One of the most recognized of Jesus’ parables; you have heard it many times over the years. We all know the story. The bad son, the younger one, takes his money and squanders it, while the good son, the older one, stays home and attends to his duty. Then, when the younger son returns, the father welcomes him with open arms. The older
brother, however, does not. It seems a simple story at first. Jesus always tells parables for a reason, and we are supposed to identify with someone in the story. Of course, we choose the younger son. It is easy to identify with the younger son. He wanted to live the high life. To have everything money
could buy, the best of everything. He wanted to live a life entirely devoted to his own pleasures, his own desires. It is any wonder that we identify with him? Yet, when the money was gone, he was forced to face the fact that he had sinned. Listen again, “Then the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’” The younger son was forced to acknowledge that he was a sinner, and we of course, do the same thing.
Especially during Lent, we look deep into our selves and recognize our sinful nature. Remember the litany of penitence we said on Ash Wednesday? “We confess to you Lord, our intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts, our envy of those more fortunate than ourselves, our self-indulgent appetites and ways, and our exploitation of other people.” This sounds precisely like the younger son, so it is no wonder that we identify with him. But as I said, Jesus always tells stories for a reason. And, there are no extraneous characters in his parables. What I mean is, there is no one in the story who does not have something to say to us. If Jesus’ intent was to show us that the father will forgive, no matter the sin, then there
would only be two characters in the story.
But we have three. And since we know that Jesus put him there for a reason, we should at least glance at the older brother, just in case there is something for us to learn from him as well. The older son was the dutiful one. He did exactly what was expected of him, working tirelessly for the father. He played by the rules, he did as he was told. And what did it get
him? From his perspective; the short end of the stick. “But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’” Virtue, in this case, does not seem to be its own reward.
The older brother is angry. Angry with the younger brother for going away, angry with the father for forgiving him, but perhaps there is more to it than that. The older brother was the good one; he did everything he was supposed to do. If you looked at his Facebook profile, I am sure you would see perfectly staged pictures of him hard at work. To all outward
appearances, he was a dutiful hard-working person. But appearances, as we know, can sometimes be deceiving. And Facebook profiles can often be as well.
What if the older brother was not quite what he appeared to be? What if, underneath his carefully crafted persona of the dutiful hard worker, there was more to him? We identify easily with the younger brother for all of the reasons we mention in the Ash Wednesday litany, but what if there were other things are true of the “perfect” older brother, things that he too
needed to confess? For in that same litany we also confess, “the pride, hypocrisy, and impatience in our lives; our false judgements, our uncharitable thoughts toward our neighbors, and our prejudice and contempt for those who differ from us.” Perhaps the older brother is not so perfect after all. Perhaps his carefully crafted persona is merely a mask; a
mask that hides his sin. Each of us, no matter how well we hide it, carry around our share of sin and brokenness. We may do a good job masking it to one another, but we all live complicated lives; lives that have
their share of strife and pain. That is why Jesus shows us not just the younger brother, but the older as well. For both are broken, and both are sinners; each in their own way. One may look like they are holding it
together better than the other, but both are in need of forgiveness, in need of grace.
And that is what they both find. For the father holds none of their sins against them, no matter what those sins may be. They find perfect love and forgiveness from the father, just as we do ourselves. Look at what Paul tells the church in Corinth. “All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us.” Perhaps this translation will make it a bit clearer for us. “All this comes from the God who settled the relationship between us and him,
and then called us to settle our relationships with each other.”
“Entrusting the message of reconciliation to us.” “Settle our relationships with each other.” It is about forgiveness. God has forgiven us, even though we are not worthy of his forgiveness.
It matters not if we are the younger brother or the older, we are all broken by sin, but God in Jesus Christ has forgiven us. But that, by itself, is not enough. For just as the father in the parable can only be happy when the entire family is reconciled to one another, we are called to put aside our judgements and differences and settle our relationship with one another.
Or to put it another way, we are called to forgive as God has forgiven us. Forgive our brothers and sisters, and forgive ourselves as well. Then, when we can truly do that, the family of God will again be whole, and what was lost will indeed be found.