Scripture: Luke 15:11-32
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 traveled 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.’”
***
Sermon: “Sharing in Forgiveness”
“Gideon is no brother of mine!” Jacob, the elder son, shouted at his father. “It would have been better for all of us if he’d never come back!” The disgust in Jacob’s voice was almost palpable. With those words, he turned on his heel and resolutely marched away, leaving his father alone in the courtyard of their home. His father stood and watched him go, sadness creasing the corners of his eyes.
A woman stepped out of the shadows behind the father and put her right hand on his shoulder. She spoke lovingly, “Reuben, you have said all you can say. Let it rest. Later tonight, after he’s had some time to cool down, I will go and talk to our first born son.”
Reuben reached up and clasped his wife’s hand, tears forming in his eyes. “Naomi,” he said, “I can’t bear to lose another son,” “I know,” she said, “I know.”
***
Later that night, Naomi found her oldest son as far away from the festivities as he could get—out in the stable tending to the livestock. He was using a rake to spread fresh hay in a stall as she arrived. She sat down on a bale of hay near the stall entrance and was quiet for a moment. He kept working.
“Jacob,” she said. “Talk to me.”
“What is there to say?” He stopped raking and faced his mother.
“Why are you so angry at your brother?” She asked. Her words acted like a spark igniting a fury in his soul.
“Why am I so angry? Because your youngest son--my brother-- has made a fool of all of us, especially Father. Have you not heard the gossip in the village? Have you not heard what they are saying behind our backs? ‘Reuben, weak as an old woman… easier to push over than a bale of hay… Stupid old man, giving half his property to an ungrateful, little cow pie.’ “If that ingrate were my son, I would have hit him upside the head and sent him on his way with nothing but the clothes on his back!’” Jacob banged the rake he’d been using against the side of the stall to clear the prongs of hay.
His mother winced, then looked at the young man with love in her eyes, “I had no idea that the thoughtless words of our neighbors stung you so deeply. I’m sorry.”
“You should be sorry—sorry for welcoming him back! He had his chance, and he blew it, big time. And now he dares to come back, feigning humility, and my gullible father buys his act completely! And what’s more, Father doesn’t just let him come back quietly, so we can keep our dignity. No! Father has to let the whole world know that the good-for-nothing swindler has returned— he throws him a party, with my money, no less, my share of the inheritance. Without even consulting me! How is that fair?!At the very least Father should have made him work off his debt before he was reinstated in the family.”
The mother shook her head. “My son, my son. Do you understand your father so little? His generosity of spirit, his kindness to those in need, his willingness to forgive those who do him wrong--this strength of character makes him a man worthy of respect.”
“Worthy of respect you say? Ha!” Jacob kicked at a clump of hay that had fallen off his rake. “No. What you described--his character flaws-- are what will bankrupt him—bankrupt all of us!”
His mother folded her hands in her lap and again shook her head. “No, my son. On the contrary. Forgiving those who recognize the error of their ways is the only thing that can restore a broken relationship. Forgiveness does not bankrupt us; it makes us whole.”
Jacob looked at his mother with tears in his eyes. “All my life I have worked hard for our family, and I have received nothing.”
“My son, open your eyes. You have always had our love— can you not share that with your brother?”
“I’m not sure I can.” The young man came over and sat next to his mother on the bale of hay. He put his head on her shoulder and cried. “Pray for me, Mother. I’m not sure I can. I’m not sure I can forgive my brother.” Naomi put her arm around her oldest son and prayed silently that he could open his heart, even just a little bit, to let in the Light of God’s Love. After some time had passed, and her son’s tears had dried up, she left him in the stable, and he went back to cleaning the stalls.
As Jacob worked, he thought about his mother’s words, “Forgiveness does not bankrupt us; it makes us whole.” He wasn’t sure that she was right. Wasn’t sure that his brother, if forgiven, wouldn’t just turn around and make a mess of things again. And then, where would they be? But then a verse of Scripture popped into his head out of the blue--from Psalm 103 that he’d learned as a boy, “God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” Perhaps God was calling him to share in his father’s forgiveness.
***
After he had cleaned all the stalls in the stable, Jacob took a deep breath, and went off in search of his younger brother Gideon. He found him in the living room of the house, holding a goblet of wine and singing some folk song with a group of neighborhood teenagers, including the girl next door who was playing a tambourine. When Jacob saw Gideon, his stupid, tipsy smile, the robe and ring and new sandals that he was wearing, Jacob felt anger wash over him again like a tidal wave. It was all Jacob could do to hold himself back from tackling his brother and wiping that stupid grin off his face. “Perhaps God is gracious and merciful,” he thought to himself, “But clearly, I am not God. This forgiveness thing is not going to work.” Jacob turned to go, but his brother saw him and called out.
“Jacob!” he said. “I need to talk to you!” Gideon set his wine down and got up to approach his brother. The singing stopped. Everyone in the room stared at Jacob.
“You’re wearing my robe!” Jacob barked. The words were barely out of his mouth when Gideon reacted. Gideon took off the robe and laid it on the chair where he had been sitting. He removed the ring and put it on the table. Then bent down to untie his new sandals and set those under the chair. Barefoot he knelt down in front of his brother and began to speak.
“I know I don’t deserve any of these things. I’m sure you hate me, and I don’t blame you. Up until recently, I can’t say that I ever thought much about anyone else besides myself. I am sorry for the pain I’ve caused our parents—and caused you. I wish I had behaved differently. I should have. If I could go back and change how I’ve behaved up until now—believe me, I would. But I can’t. All I can do now is change how I act going forward. I want you to know that tomorrow morning—and every day after that—you will find me working in the fields with the hired hands. I promise. Before God and everyone here, I promise.”
Seeing him without the robe, kneeling on the floor, Jacob couldn’t help but notice how small his brother looked. And thin. Before he left, although he was 18, Gideon still looked like a little boy; you could still see the baby-fat on his face and around his middle. Now, his cheekbones protruded like outcroppings in the desert, and you could count every rib. Plus, his bare feet looked calloused and sore and dirty, as if he hadn’t worn shoes for quite some time.
Jacob began to feel his anger slowly drain away. He knew he should say something to his brother, but he wasn’t quite ready to fully forgive him. “Get up,” he said. “Tomorrow I’ll meet you in the field at sunrise. I’ll teach you how to harvest grain.”
I invite you now to pray with me a prayer by Rev. Arianne Braithwaite Lehn entitled, When I need forgiveness and to forgive PAGE 34
Compassionate Creator,
You hold me with faithfulness each day,
And I’m asking for your
Forgiveness to flood my life.
I recognize in myself persistent struggles…
The same old failures…
The things I get too tired to confess again…
The things I’ve hidden for so long
I’ve convinced myself they’re
Not so wrong after all.
Thank you for your patience, God.
Please forgive and free me.
Heal my heart and liberate my mind.
Reveal to me, Lord, those I need to forgive.
From your reservoir of grace,
May new springs of healing and forgiveness
Flow into my relationship.
Carve in me a deeper kindness.
May the pain others caused--
Even pain they don’t know about--
Teach me a compassion
I would not have learned otherwise.
Loosen the hard, rigid bars
I’ve put around my heart,
And relax my expectations
With your humility and love.
Nurture a supportive space in me,
That I might give others a soft place
To land with sore hearts--
Just as you’ve done, God, for me.
I pray that all I speak,
All I do,
All I dream,
And all I confess today
Declare my love for you,
Need for you,
And commitment to follow
your way, Lord.
Amen.
(Prayer from Ash & Starlight, p. 34)
Rev. Dr. Marlayna Schmidt
Franklin Federated Church
Franklin, MA
August 23, 2020
Sermon first written and preached March 18, 2007 in Annisquam, MA
Edited and preached July 20, 2014 in Winchester;
Edited again and preached August 14, 2016 in Manchester, NH and Aug 7, 208 in Manchester-by-the-Sea, MA
Edited again and preached August 23, 2020 in Franklin, MA
The last few paragraphs are inspired by a piece entitled “Apologies,” written by Richard & Antra Borofsy 2010.