Lent 4c 2025; 30 March
Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32; Jack Hardaway
PRODIGAL
A dry dessert highway, empty, no traffic.
A cloud of dust is rising off to the side in the prickly thickets, where a car rests, upside down, one tire slowly spinning.
Jesus and the Devil sit inside the car, suspended upside down by their seatbelts.
The devil is snoring.
Jesus looks out the window and sees a not too distant hillside, upside down, much closer than it was.
Then a mother possum slowly waddles across the upside down world, with three baby possums following, or clinging to her back, or falling off and trying to climb back on the mama in motion.
Jesus smiles marveling at the holy mystery of life.
Jesus then pokes at the devil who wakes up with a snort, and says, “What?”
Jesus points to the mama possum and her entourage.
They watch them slowly disappear into the brush.
Jesus then says, “Have you ever wondered that maybe the whole point of all of this is to simply say thank-you?”
The devil’s ears start to smoke and sizzle. He answers back, in a silent whisper, “I thought I was supposed to be tempting you.”
Jesus then smiles and says, “Thanks for the ride. We’re almost there.” Jesus then unclicks his seat belt, tumbles to the ceiling, crawls out, and starts walking.
The devil watches him go, and then yells out, “You know, you don’t have to do this.”
Jesus just keeps on walking.
The road trip continues toward the inevitable destination.
Two sons, brothers, and their father.
We hear their story today.
It is often called the parable of the prodigal son.
One of the most powerful stories in human history.
The word prodigal comes from the Latin word used to describe the excessive living of the younger son in the parable. It was used in the vulgate and has stuck with it ever since.
Prodigal: meaning excessive, profuse, extravagant, lavish, reckless.
“Dissolute” is the word used in the translation we hear today, which has an immoral connotation which misses the point. The younger brother lived with reckless abandon, with extravagant expense.
This parable of the prodigal son is full of prodigality.
Every character is prodigious in some way.
We all know about the younger son who squandered his inheritance by living large. He gets all the attention.
But the neglected older brother is extreme as well. He is resentful, prodigal in his resentment, prodigious in his jealousy, lavish in his anger. He is even more lost and wasteful than his extravagant younger brother. Half of the parable is about the resentful older brother. In some ways he is the point of the whole parable.
You know how we are when resentment blinds us. We see and say things that are false. He accuses his brother of horrible things, when all he did was live way beyond his means.
He is the prodigal warning to all us religious types and how we are tempted to sap all joy and thankfulness from the miracle of existence. To encounter God is not to be full of poison and gall over others, but to rather celebrate the gift that they are.
Then there is the father. He is prodigal in his love. His love for both of his children is extravagant and lavish. He goes out to invite his children in. He is over the top both in his joy at his lost son coming home, and in his pleading with the resentful older child.
There are other titles for this parable; such as, the Parable of the Resentful Brother, or the Parable of the Generous Father.
I wonder sometimes if it should be called the Parable of the Great Dad and his Two Idiot Sons.
But really, prodigal is the best title. Not the Prodigal Son but simply The Prodigal, because everyone in it is prodigal in some way.
The parable leaves us wondering just who is the sinner and if the older brother will join in the celebration.
Will he let his resentment and suspicion blind him to what life is really about? Will he squander his inheritance on dissolute resentment? It leaves us hanging. And we have to answer it ourselves with our own lives.
The gospel changes how we understand sin. It turns out that when we say, “love the sinner and hate the sin” we become the worst sinners of all.
We are warned to give up pointing out the sins of others. To do so is to fall away from the grace that pursues us. God is much more interesting than our preoccupation with the short fallings of others.
We are the followers and proclaimers of a Prodigal Gospel.
God’s love is extravagant and over the top, reckless and lavish.
God is Prodigal, and Jesus is the prodigal love of God celebrating God’s children. Jesus is God’s lavish party, the reckless celebration of God’s children. Jesus is the fatted calf, the ring on the finger, the sandals on the feet, the best robe draped upon us.
Jesus is the strange and foreign country where we are set upon, and smothered with love and affection. Jesus is the ludicrous extreme, kissing, hugging and embracing of God.
God’s love is ravishing. It is too much. Off putting.
The prodigal Gospel is that God is simply crazy about us, God is about to pop. God doesn’t care a lick about dignity and poise; he is running out to get us.
Is that how we experience God?
It is tempting to resent that affection upon others.
It is tempting to be the resentful child.
What if the point of all of this is simply to say, “Thank-you?”
How many ways can I say thank-you?
A life of prodigal thanksgiving.
That is the parable that we write with our lives.
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