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Prodigality and Joy

Preached at St. Barnabas Church, Bellville, TX

Ninth Sunday after Trinity, 2009

by The Rev. Stephen E. Stults

“Grant us, O Lord, the spirit to think and do always such things as are right; that we, who cannot do any thing that is good without thee, may by thee be enabled to live according to thy will; through Jesus Christ our Lord.”  AMEN

If there were ever a more ardent, perfectly formed plea for grace to live the Christian life, I don’t know how it could be better phrased than in this prayer. This Collect for the 9^th Sunday after Trinity, no doubt written by a very mature Christian mind, recognizes the true reality of life on this earth. First of all, it grasps the reality that we need the right “spirit” to help us do the things that we should do. This prayer affirms that the true nature of this world is spiritual and that we need the right spiritual orientation in order to behave correctly. That is, God, the “ground of being,” to quote the German theologian Paul Tillich, can only be approached on a spiritual basis. Or putting it more simply, St. Paul tells us in Eph. 6:12: “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” The real battleground of this world is, and always will be, spiritual.

This battle is clearly illustrated in today’s Gospel selection from Matthew 15. It’s a familiar story to most of us. Here we have the younger, presumably spoiled son who is demanding his share of the inheritance to do with as he will. He obviously didn’t work for it, at least not in the way that his father did. He knows that it is his by birthright and so he demands it. We all know the rest of the story. He spends it wildly, using up his money in “riotous living.” Having spent all, he is thrust into desperate poverty, even serving as a swineherd for one of the substantial citizens of that area. He at last comes to his right mind and decides to throw himself on the mercy of his father, even desiring to be treated as a servant. As he is on the road home, his father, obviously watching for him, sees him a long way off and runs to embrace him, swine odor and all, even bestowing a fatherly kiss. The prodigal gives his well-rehearsed speech, which his father seemingly disregards in his concern for his son. Instead of listening to the repentance speech, he commands that a robe, in fact the best robe, be given him, a ring put on his finger and shoes on his feet. Then comes the wonderful command to kill the fatted calf, the one kept for special circumstances, and to eat and be merry. The prodigal son is met with unexpected “tokens of acceptance,” to quote Matthew Henry. He is forgiven, restored and, in a sense, healed. No greater example of love and boundless affection is found in the Gospels, except as it were the great Love-Sacrifice of Christ Himself.

On the other hand, we see the older brother, angry, judgmental and self-righteous. He tells his father “neither transgressed I at any time thy commandment.” He has been faithful, righteous, and probably joyless all this time. He condemns his younger brother and is indignant. He refuses to go in.

The question is, does the older brother have a point? One side of me definitely says, “yes.” After all, he has served his father faithfully and well, while here is this defiant younger brother, to whom he refers as “this thy son” and not as his own brother. This young man went and spent his inheritance wildly, “with harlots,” while the older boy tediously and seriously did his duty. Now, he hears music and dancing, only to discover that his father has killed the special calf just for the “bad” boy! He says, “Yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends.” Doesn’t that make one’s self-righteousness just burn with indignation?

Yes, perhaps on the human, limited, judgmental side he has a point. But, at the same time, he absolutely misses the point. He misses the point of love. He misses the point of true repentance and forgiveness. He also misses, completely, the enormity of his father’s love for his nearly lost brother.  Yes, there is no doubt that the prodigal sinned greatly. He wildly misused his father’s resources. He was willful, selfish, and lustful.

Yet, he “came to himself”; that is, God revealed to him the grossness of his sin through suffering. In the end, he was truly penitent and decided to throw himself, literally, on his father’s mercy, desiring to work as a mere servant in exchange for the necessities of life. In the end, due to the limitless love of his father, he is embraced, fed, loved, and accepted with joy.

Dr. Lightfoot tells us about the use of this parable as a great teaching tool, used to contrast the Gentiles’ reception of the Gospel and the Jews’ rejection of it. He tells us, “It is no new thing so to apply this parable, as if the elder son denoted the Jew, and the younger the Gentile. And, indeed, the elder son doth suit well enough with the Jew in this, that he boasts so much of his obedience, "I have not transgressed at any time thy commandment": as also, that he is so much against the entertainment of his brother, now a penitent. Nothing can be more grievous to the Jews than the reception of the Gentiles.”¹

Perhaps the greater point for us 21^st century Christians is to examine our own faith and our own celebration of it. Are we like the older brother, secure in our own self-righteousness, grimly enduring our lives and our existence, without joy?  Do we complain that our Father does not give us tokens of His love as we display our own proud obedience? Or, more realistically, are we all, in some way or another, like the prodigal son, who, having sinned greatly, now had an awakening of grace?  Of course, it is highly doubtful that any of us have engaged in the type of gross rebellion as the prodigal son, at least not lately, or that extensively. It must have been a grand party for him while it lasted…

On the other hand, we too have all been prodigal. One of the points of this particular parable is that our whole lives are one large episode of prodigality, in some sense or another. For example, when we flee God mentally or spiritually, we are prodigal. That is, when we refuse to enter into a richer relationship with Him through worship, prayer, or meditation on the Scriptures, preferring instead the pleasures and distractions of this present time, we are indeed prodigal. When we squander God’s resources, especially the spiritual ones, we are prodigal.

How, you may ask, is this possible?  How can one squander God’s spiritual resources, seeing they are inexhaustible? After all, our Lord is infinite, thus all His attributes are so. Yes, this is indeed true, but our time and our opportunity to engage them are not. We all have those moments in life when God calls us to Himself in an especially efficacious manner. These are the most glorious and yet most dangerous times. They are most glorious in that they present a wonderful opportunity to accept life and that more abundantly, if we accept the calling of grace. On the other hand, they are dangerous because in the sovereign exercise of our own free will, we can choose to turn from God and seek our own way. Yes, we all know that we can be stronger than God, if only in our stubborn resistance to his loving Will for our lives. We can resist grace; we can be ultimately stubborn and rebellious to our soul’s destruction. We have free will.

Once again, the older brother reminds us of this stubbornness and rebellion. He refused to see the power of forgiveness and love, preferring instead the harsh reality of self-righteous indignation and judgment. He is, in fact, rejecting joy. He too, has a choice, either rejoice in this glad occasion, or reject it. In the same vein, he can, in fact, accept joyful life or reject it.

So it is with us. We too can rail against our circumstances, our disposition, and even our own attitude. We can go grimly about our business as Christians, solemnly and righteously, or we can acknowledge our own prodigality, with joy, as we allow the knowledge of God’s inexhaustible love to wash over us, constantly, day by day.

Then, we will experience something else: joy. As we continue to realize who we are, in our own wretchedness, we also have the unbelievable experience of absolute forgiveness. When we have squandered our own spiritual inheritance in various ways, we too can “come to ourselves” and seek to return to our Father. And so we go down the road of repentance, seeking not only forgiveness, but also absolution and restoration. After all, forgiveness without absolution and restoration is a diminished virtue.

The really good news for us is that our Father, through the Blessed Holy Spirit, watches the road for us. When we are “yet a great way off,” He runs to us and embraces us. He commands a ring of eternity for our finger, a robe of righteousness for our bodies and shoes of peace for our feet.  He then feeds us with the most glorious meal of all, Himself.

Thus, when we come to our Father in true repentance, he assures us that it is indeed “meet that should make merry, and be glad.” For, though we were dead in our sins and in our rebellion, now we are “alive again.” We were lost, but now we are found. It is this joyful, glorious realization that makes us glad that we are sons and daughters of the Most High God.

Luke 15:11-12 And he said, A certain man had two sons: And the younger of them said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto them his living.

¹ Lightfoot, Dr. John, “Commentary on Matthew 15,” www.ewordtoday.com/comments/luke/light/luke15.htm

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