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Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

Now all the tax-collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, ‘This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.’

So he told them this parable:

Then Jesus said, ‘There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, “Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.” So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and travelled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. But when he came to himself he said, “How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.’ ” So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. 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.” But the father said to his slaves, “Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!” And they began to celebrate.

‘Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, “Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.” Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. 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!” Then the father said to him, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. 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.” ’

This story is probably very familiar to you— along with the parable of the good Samaritan, this is probably Jesus’ most famous parable, widely known as the Parable of the Prodigal Son. So what more could there possibly be to say about this? Plenty, apparently! We had a very lively and fruitful discussion in Bible Study last week, and I think we were all pleasantly surprised at how new life can always be found in these familiar and beautiful, yet confounding stories.

And because I happen to be your pastor, for better and hopefully not for worse, you’re subject to what I find new in my readings of these parables; and because I’m a relatively new parent, it should come as no surprise that I was especially focused on and drawn to everything the father did in this story. Now, there’s a great deal of cultural context that goes a long way into creating a better understanding, I think, of what Jesus was trying to tell us with this parable. Going in order of the father’s actions—it was not unheard of, but certainly frowned upon for a son to receive his inheritance before his father was dead. So it was a disrespectful and almost blasphemous demand from the son that he receives his land and whatever else would legally be his, presumably years before his father is dead and gone, and so it right from the beginning, the hearer of this story would be shocked and scandalized that the father gave into this absolutely gross demand. It’s then assumed that the son sells the inherited property for liquid assets, which is quickly squanders on a good time—and this adds an extra layer of disrespect because this was an agrarian society that these folks lived in, so land was a big deal; not to mention the fact that the Jewish people were constantly getting exiled and occupied, so symbolically it was a huge blow to sell land like it meant nothing. So the hearer of this parable, after all this, would assume the son was essentially disowned by this point.

But when the son returns home, the father is not only happy to see him, but he’s so happy that he runs. This might seem like no big deal to us today, but apparently an older man running was very undignified. So here is this loving father, throwing social norms to the wind because of how happy he is to see his troubled son return home. He adds to this by throwing him a lavish party—breaking out the best clothes, eating the fatted calf, and putting sandals on his feet was a direct objection to his son, as part of his begging for forgiveness, requesting to be treated as a hired hand rather than the beloved son he is. And finally, his last action, his response to his older son’s  frustration, is that “…you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours,” which is to say—this celebration does not negate my love for you. He loves his sons equally, but they had to celebrate the return of this one who was lost, but now was found.

This was an interesting read, reading it from the perspective of a new parent, with a toddler, who is beginning to push limits and buttons, beginning to throw tantrums, to whine more often than laugh… now obviously it’s not fair to compare Frankie to the prodigal son in this, or vice versa—toddlers don’t have the capacity to regulate their emotions or make the right choices. But it did get me thinking about how I’m going to parent Frankie in the future, as she does develop that capacity, and how to raise her in a way that she always knows she has a place called home—that she always knows she has a safe place where she will be loved. And it’s easy for me to think and say this now, when Frankie’s still an adorable toddler, making it essentially impossible to stay mad at her when she throws her dinner on the floor or starts sobbing when we tell her it’s too early for TV. We’ll see how hard it is to stay mad at her when she becomes a pre-teen.

And so, multiple people in our discussion at Bible Study on Monday saw this a little differently than I did initially, still in my parent honeymoon phase—that this was a father enabling his troubled and irresponsible son. And yeah, I could absolutely see that; I don’t think that’s a wrong interpretation by any means. And yet, I still think it’s something to strive for—to be as unconditionally loving and forgiving as the father.

In trying to figure out how to raise Frankie “right,” or at least, as well as I can in this world, I’ve come across, mostly via social media, so many different tips and tricks, theories and trends about the best way of parenting. And one that some may consider a “trend” is that of gentle parenting— it’s the kind of parenting that involves remaining calm, not yelling or escalation the situation, validating the most irrational of feelings. Some mistake it for something called “permissive parenting” which is a real lack of discipline; gentle parenting is not that, but it is often scoffed at as kind of hippie-dippie junk.

In an article from the Atlantic a couple years ago, about gentle parenting, the author quotes a parenting coach who says that many people come to her  “…searching for something different than they had” as a children. The author of the article goes onto say that she “tried to imagine [her] parents apologizing to [her] after [she] refused to do something they sad. This was difficult, because [her] parents never apologized to [her for anything]…”[i]

When I read this, it hit hard. My mom is wonderful in so many ways, I had an incredible upbringing, don’t get me wrong… but apologizing was not her strong suit. And that did some damage. When an apology doesn’t occur when it’s required, forgiveness can’t happen. And then people just stew and resentment builds. And to add to that, when you’re a young person, you grow up imaging you’re always wrong, that you can’t do anything right—it’s taken a lot of work to overcome whatever insecurities that stem from this dynamic, and I want to make sure Frankie doesn’t have to do that particular work.

So I think, regardless of new strategies or trends, all parents, whether conscious of it or not, are just trying to do a better job than their parents did—trying to right whatever wrongs, whether they be few or many, of the previous generations. And this goes beyond parenting. As time goes on, we learn and we grow, as people, as communities… we want future generations to be happy, to be comfortable, to feel safe, to thrive—and so we learn from the mistakes or the shortcomings of previous generations.

Remember, Jesus came not “to abolish the law or the prophets…but to fulfill.” We Christians, when focusing on this very kind and gentle Jesus have an unfortunate tendency to disregard a lot of the Hebrew Old Testament as full of wrath and destruction—but the God of the Hebrew Bible is the same God our God— and our parable today echoes the sentiments of many of the prophets, like Hosea—in chapter 11 of the book of Hosea, God goes on and on about all the offenses God’s own people have committed against their own faith: “The more I called them, / the more they went from me; / they kept sacrificing to Baals, / offering incense to idols,” God goes on to lament, “My people are bent on turning away from me.”  And yet, in verses 8-9, “My heart recoils within me; / my compassion grows warm and tender. / I will not execute my fierce anger;…  /. For I am God and no mortal, / the Holy One in your midst,  / and I will not come in wrath.”

This is law Jesus was coming to fulfill; this was the prophesy Jesus was coming to fulfill. Laws and prophesies of compassion and love.

But our scripture for today, and our sermon for today isn’t one about God’s unconditional love; it isn’t about the fact that we are always forgiven and accepted by God, though of course that is a beautiful part of it. There’s an argument that this parable should not be referred to as that of the “Prodigal Son,” but rather of a “Father’s Love.” This scripture is a lesson on loving unconditionally. This parable is a lesson about not about being forgiven, but about our duty to be forgiving. It’s about our duty to right the wrongs of the past and make sure we, as people, and this sacred space we’re in is always a place people can call home.

When the prodigal son has hit rock bottom and realizes he needs to return home, it doesn’t say he went home. It says “he set off and went to his father.” Because his father was home. He knew his father would love and accept and embrace him no matter what. His father had set an example for him, of the kind of love and compassion one should aspire to. And though he felt himself unworthy, he went to his father, knowing that was home.

That’s certainly my goal in raising Frankie. I want her, no matter where she is in life, no matter how she rebels, no matter how much she may mess up, to feel comfortable coming home. I want to be home for her. And in that same way, I want this sacred space, this incredible community to continue to come for you all, and to reach out and be home for any and all who walk into this place. And I want this country to change into a place that welcomes all people, a place people can feel safe speak their mind and make mistakes without it being a death sentence. That change, I believe can start here.

In our harsh, dog-eat-dog world, this kind of love can, indeed feel like enabling, and to some extent it certainly can be; our world isn’t always compatible with the world of these ancient Biblical days—but our faith does, indeed, call us to be unconditionally loving and unconditionally forgiving. The love part, I think is easy. The forgiving part… maybe not so much. I was in an abusive relationship almost 20 years ago now, and I certainly haven’t found it in my heart to forgive my ex for that time in my life; I mention this only to make it clear that, as always, the work is hard. But it’s beautiful. And it’s crucial. Mercy is crucial. And mercy seems to be something that is sorely lacking in our world right now—a world full of collateral arrests and dehumanizing and frightening rhetoric.

That’s what the father’s speech to his older son at the end was all about—“we have to celebrate.” We have to be merciful. We have to be forgiving. We have to lighten our loads and turn our anger and resentment into joy and relief. We have to make sure we are always a place that people can call home, and we have to make it loud and clear that we love all people, regardless of how flawed they are, does not negate the love we have for anyone else who, on paper, may appear more “worthy.” Our world right now is sorely lacking in mercy. And I know I want Frankie growing up in a world better than this. I want raise her in a way in which she knows she always has a home in me and her dad; and I want her to grow into a world that is a welcoming and safe place to all who live and travel here. In between those two things, is this place. This sacred place, this faith community, can act as a spiritual home for all who come through those doors, fulfilling the promise of the Old Testament prophets, and fulfilling the call of Jesus—to have mercy for all people, and to work together in good faith, and with mercy, to make this world a better world for the next generations.

It's hard but rewarding and incredible work— to be unconditionally forgiving and to treat all people with understanding and mercy. But it’s what we’re called to do as Christians. It’s what we’re called to do as human beings. We’re called to work for a world where all people can feel comfortable, safe, and at home— that is to say, we’re called to work for an earth as it is in heaven. Amen.

[i] https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2024/10/tiktok-gentle-parenting-trend/680038/