The Wow of the Prodigal Son

The Return of the Prodigal Son by Rembrandt

The gospel reading assigned for this Sunday is the parable of the prodigal son. That would be the younger son who took his half of daddy's money and blew through it having a good time, but then was left with nothing. After working with the pigs, he pulls himself up by the sandal straps and heads home. He figures, at least he can be a slave and work for his father so he can have some food to eat. When dad sees this son returning, he rejoices. Not only does he rejoice, he calls to his servants and orders them to prepare a feast and deck this bad boy in the finest cloak and treat him with honor and respect. This is a celebration: there is fatted calf and probably cups of wine and merriment because the son "who was dead is alive."

Meanwhile, the older brother, who never left home, but has diligently worked side-by-side with his father sees this scene and is incensed. "How can this be? This deadbeat brother who partied hearty with prostitutes gets the finest duds and the fatted calf?" You can hear the whine coming of, "What about me?"

The father, realizing the older brother is seething outside the party, meets his oldest and hears his complaint. And, in another show of kindness and patience, he tells his son he knows him, knows all that he has done because he has always been there. And the celebration is not because he loves the younger more. It's because "he was dead but is alive".

The visual I have of this father is very much the one I have in my memory of my own father. My dad's body was hobbled by a stroke and disease. But his mind was still sharp and he kept a cane and walker to help him get around. I was coming home from having been in New York City for an awards ceremony. I arrived by train into my home town and walked from the station down the street to my house. Outside on the sidewalk was my father, sitting in a lawn chair. My mother was beside him. He had wanted to be waiting for me, and as I approached, his face lit up, his blue eyes were bright and he smiled broadly as he said, "Hello!!" I could tell he was thrilled to have his little girl home, even if only for a few days.

I think this is much the way the "Good Father" of the prodigal son must have looked. And these men displaying joy in their faces are the incarnation of the joy I believe God has whenever any of us, no matter our personal triumphs or failings, return to God. Some may think that return is at the end of our earthly, human days. But I believe this rejoicing happens right now, while we are on earth in our human bodies. When we turn our faces back to God... God rejoices and lays out a banquet of fatted calf and clothes us in the garments of light and redemption.

People who are LGBT and have come back to God understand this feeling because we have all experienced that embrace of the "Good Father". For some of us, we may not have known this father at all before now. Or maybe we thought this father had abandoned us. Or maybe we believed everything the bullies had told us about our Father in Heaven, and thought this father was a mean ol' cur ready to punish us and beat us for our "sinful" sexuality. Maybe we bought all these lies about God because our earthly fathers didn't, or wouldn't, or couldn't, serve as the incarnation of the true love of God for all of God's creatures. No matter the reasons, once God reaches out to the LGB or T, and we feel that touch and hear that call and we respond... it is nothing short of WOW! A faith that was gasping for breath is brought to life, a certain death of spirit is revived.

And what about that older son, the one who never was away? Can we really blame him for being a little miffed about all the attention paid to the younger brother? Put another way, do we tell the older brother, "Get over it!" when his younger gay brother comes home and the Father throws a party to celebrate? To sound like the apostle Paul, by no means! We look at how the father responds to this son's pouting and hurt feelings. He reminds him that of course he's loved because he's always been there. And now is the time for rejoicing because the one who was thought to be lost is found.

Barbara Brown-Taylor noted in her book "A Preaching Life" that we do NOT know how this ends. Does the older brother join the party or not? Perhaps there's a reason the evangelist Luke doesn't record an ending to Jesus' parable. Perhaps Jesus didn't provide an ending. Perhaps the question for those of us who see ourselves firmly in the shoes of that older brother watching the party for the ne'er-do-well younger sibling is what would we do? Where is God calling us to stand: outside the banquet hall or gathering at the table with the other guests? Will our pride keep us away from the party of celebration? Can we show an ounce of compassion and love for our younger brother?