Fourth Sunday in Lent
March 30, 2025
Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

“So Jesus told them a parable. There was a man who had two sons.” The younger son who wastes his inheritance, but then is accepted back home; welcomed home with a feast. The older son who has done everything expected of him, gets no special treatment. In his words, “not even a young goat” so that he might celebrate with his friends. And the father, a father who loves his sons equally – what a scandal. 

It’s a story that makes as much sense now, as in the time that Jesus gave it. You know, I’ll often hear that, people today are just so much different than they were before. Well, I read this story, and it seems like people are pretty much the same. I don’t think people have changed much at all in the last two thousand years. There was and is greed; there was and is hardness of heart; there was and is great love. That’s what makes this story, and its lessons, stand the test of time.

Including just eighteen years ago. Eighteen years ago, I gave my first ever Sunday sermon. I had just graduated from college. And it was this lesson, the glorious parable of the prodigal son. Now, I just want to say that it is a foolish thing to let a new college graduate give a sermon. Because at that time in my life, I thought I knew everything. Feeling awfully proud of myself – I had graduated college a semester early, I was going to be one of the youngest seminarians that year – of course, I resonated with the older brother. At the ripe old age of twenty-two, I had all the answers. And I am so glad that I gave that sermon before everything went on YouTube to live on the internet forever.

Part of the allure of the older brother, of course, is that things are simple for him. There is black and white – there is right and wrong. His younger brother, who’s wasted everything on wine, women, and song – is just wrong. And the older brother thinks there ought to be a consequence for such petulant, wasteful behavior. Because he, the older brother, is right. Working like a slave for his father, dutifully doing all that is expected of him. 

As it was in the time of Jesus, so in today’s world of ambiguity and volatility, in today’s brittle and anxious world; clear black and white answers are attractive. And I think that’s why I preached on the older son eighteen years ago. I think that’s how so many people get to such prominent positions today in churches and in our culture. Because they offer clear black or white answers. We follow those people because then we don’t have to think. They think for us. We love it when somebody has all the answers. In such turbulent times, they offer simple solutions. In such ambiguity, we are attracted to clear right or wrong. 

But I think that’s precisely why Jesus offers this parable. And it’s what this parable is teaching me now, that I did not pick up on eighteen years ago. Because some things in life are black and white, a lot things are right and wrong. That’s the conundrum that is the younger brother. The younger brother tells his own father that he is as good as dead. The son wants his inheritance now. That has got to be wrong. But when things go south, the younger brother comes to himself, and he repents. He turns around. He confesses his sins. He actually has the guts to go home and admit it. That has got to be right thing to do. 

And though the older brother seems to be right, he must also be wrong. Wrong to withhold forgiveness. The only thing keeping him from going to the party is himself. Though he may have been right to stay and work for his father, surely he is wrong to harbor such bitterness. So here we have two brothers – both wrong, and both right. 

And that is so hard to say in today’s world. That a person can have been both right and wrong in their lives. But it has got to be true. That we are complex creatures, more complex than any one of our decisions. That, in the words of Texas music legend Robert Earl Keen, “we live and die by shades of gray.” 

The real hero of the story, of course, is the father. It’s what I could not comprehend as a twenty-two year recent college graduate, and it’s what I still have trouble comprehending today. That somebody could be that loving, that gracious, that merciful, that compassionate – of both his sons. Of both their righteousness and their unrighteousness. 

The gift that the father gives is understanding. Understanding. It’s not the inheritance money that counts, it’s not the robe or the ring or even a young goat. It’s the gift of understanding. That is the greatest gift that the father showers on both his sons. That’s what I’m learning as I read this parable yet again. The father understands that his younger son has learned the lesson and repented, that he needs a place back home. The father also understands the older son, he understands the older son also needs a place back home. The father, our Father, understands, that we need a place; that our home, is with him.

For such a radical parable, the lesson is fairly simple. Remember the setup for this whole lesson. The Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling because Jesus was welcoming sinners and eating with them (Luke 15:2). And what Jesus is trying to do is to show all of them – Pharisees, scribes, tax collectors and sinners – that all of them are right and wrong. The scribes and Pharisees are right, because they truly and devoutly want to follow God’s laws. Their faith is sincere. The scribes and Pharisees are wrong, though, to withhold understanding. The tax collectors are wrong, too. Because tax collectors in the ancient world were widely known to skim money off the top for themselves. But the tax collectors who are there, eating with Jesus, are also right because, after all, they are eating with Jesus. And the good news is that Jesus will eat with any of them.

As Jesus will eat with any of us. Isn’t that why we gather here today? Because our Father understands that we all need a place. This place isn’t for people who are completely right, because then no one would be here. And this meal isn’t for people who are completely wrong, because no one would want to be here. This place, this church, this God, this Lord and Savior – is for Pharisee, scribe, tax collector, sinner, me and you. All of us – who are both right and wrong. That is what God understands about us.

One final thought – the father has the last word – he says to the older son, “But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found” (Luke 15:32). We had to celebrate. God is obligated to celebrate over you. Even in all the dreariness of Lent – with the Ten Commandments and the hard lessons and the sad music – remember that it is all leading to something. That glorious day when we will have to celebrate – with our Easter dresses and egg hunts and a family brunch – for our Lord God was dead, and has come to life. Right now, in the middle of Lent, we are outside the house, we can hear the music, we can smell the meat roasting, we can see the joy, just around the corner. And the question is turned to us – if you are the older brother or the younger brother, the question is the same – will you join the party? Will you accept forgiveness, and forgive? Will you join in the obligation of celebration? Will you understand, as you have been understood? Because we were lost, and have been found.