And I keep preaching that, because I figure, if I’m only going to have one sermon, that one’s OK.... It’ll do. But now I have another problem. I’m beginning to wonder if it might not just be one sermon too many. See, in reading over the scriptures for this week, and the parable Jesus told about, that we call the Prodigal Son, I noticed something. Jesus doesn’t preach sermons. It looks to me that what Jesus did was tell stories and ask questions. But the tradition of the church for lo these many centuries seems to have been for some fool to get up and preach a sermon and give answers to questions nobody asked. And since my goal here is to become more and more a disciple of Jesus, to follow after him, and respond to his life and teaching, and to help you, in whatever small way I can to do the same, so that together we can help create a community that lives out the reign of God on earth, Then what the heck am I doing preaching sermons in the first place???

Good question! So tonight I’m going to let the story Jesus tells, of the prodigal son, speak for itself. And instead of having someone stand up here and read it we’re going to hear Jesus tell it through the miracle of modern videotape, as told in Franco Zefirelli’s film, Jesus of Nazareth" (Video excerpt of Jesus telling the parable of the Prodigal Son) So that’s the story. And since what Jesus did was tell stories and ask questions, and since we’re here because we want to follow Jesus, what are some questions we might ask about this story? I’ll throw a few out.... And I’ll tell you right off the bat, I don’t have answers for them, just maybe a few guesses... but in this case, your guess really is as good as mine.

And the focus of my questions is the son who ran away from home. Now, why do you suppose he did that? The parable just starts out with "there was a man who had two sons, and one day the younger son just up and demanded his share of the family fortune and took off with it. Don’t you think there must be a little more to the story? SOMETHING had to have happened before all this, that made the younger son demand his inheritance. When do you get an inheritance? When somebody dies, right? What do you suppose had gone on in that family that made the younger son treat his father as if he were already dead? Seems to me that there was something going on there.... But Jesus doesn’t tell us, does he? He just tells us what went on after.... Why do you suppose that is? Why doesn’t he tell us what happened beforehand that led to this appalling state of affairs? But he doesn’t. We’re left to wonder.

Another subject for our questions.... Where did he go? Luke just says, he went to a far country and squandered all his money. Not only do we not know where he went, we don’t know what he spent his money on. Now, later in the story, his older brother says he spent it all on prostitutes. But Luke doesn’t say that, and we might not expect the older brother to be the most unbiased reporter at that point. He was kind of ticked off. So... more unanswered questions.

What else might we ask? I think an important question is, what the heck took him so long to decide to go back home? I mean, he was in a bad way. As bad as a poor Jewish boy could get. He was tending PIGS. He was sleeping with the pigs, he was eating with the pigs, and worse, he was so hungry that what the pigs were eating was beginning to look good to him. Why didn’t he go home before things got to that point? I dunno.... I’m just guessing here... You think maybe he figured that the folks back home would have something to say about where he’d been and what he’d been doing? I might have. I worry about what people think more than is good for me. Having to go home feeling like a failure is hard.

 And I don’t think he was expecting the reception he got. You can tell from how he heads on down the road all the way back from the far country rehearsing what he’s going to say to his father. Father, I’ve sinned against you and against God... Father, I’ve sinned against you and against God... Father, I’ve sinned against you and against God... Over and over and over, all the way home.

But you know what? When he gets home, he hardly even gets a chance to say his lines, before his dad’s got the fatted calf on the BBQ. Now, I need to digress from the prodigal son for a minute, and tell you a little bit about my cousin Jim.

Anyhow, Jim has always been near and dear to my heart ‘cause he’s just a good ol’ boy, and a real sweetheart. And, he indirectly led to my coming out to my entire family, nearly giving him a heart attack in the process, but that’s not the Jim story I want to tell; that’s another story, and it’s a hoot –– ask me later. There’s also another story about Jim and a barbeque that’s a hoot, but I digress.

Anyhow, it took Jim a few days, hitching rides, to get from the West Coast back to Southern Illinois, and he had to walk a good bit of the last stretch. And when he got to his parents’ house, he dropped his bags and headed out to find his dad, who was out plowing a field with a team of horses.

And his father, my great-uncle Doc, spotted him from a ways off, across the field, and looked and squinted, and then finally, with great joy, he recognized his son. And I think he recognized Jim from a distance because partly because for that whole time he was gone, Uncle Doc was kind of always scanning the horizon... waiting for Jim to come home. Praying he’d make it.

And Uncle Doc just dropped the reins and came running across the newly plowed field and grabbed him and hugged him and just cried for joy, that his son was home safe from the war, and they just hugged and danced and cried there in the field. I’ve often thought that might just be one of the best descriptions of what heaven will be like as I’ve ever heard.

Because like my uncle Doc, and like that father in Jesus’ parable, I think God is always scanning the horizon for us. Waiting for us to come home from that far country. And God doesn’t care what happened before, and God doesn’t care where we’ve been, or what kind of pigs we’ve been hanging out with. I think that’s why there are so many questions left unanswered in this parable.I think what Jesus is saying is all that past stuff, all that went on before in the relationship between the son and the father, all that happened while he was away... It just doesn’t matter. Not even all the pain of it. Let it all go.

See.... Thomas Wolfe was wrong... You can, too, go home again.... when your home is in God. I’m going to play a song for you by one of my favourite singers, Mary Chapin Carpenter. And it’s called "Jubilee." You have the words on your bulletin insert. I’d read it to you, but it always makes me cry, And besides, it’s a beautiful song. The word Jubilee has come to mean, in modern English, a time of great celebration. But it’s original meaning is from the Hebrew scriptures, and it was a year of emancipation and restoration provided by ancient Hebrew law to be kept every 50 years by the freeing of slaves, and the restoration of alienated lands to their former owners. A time of freedom and renewal. And maybe, in the great grand scheme of things, it’s not just land that’s been alienated that can be restored, but perhaps relationships that have been alienated, and love that’s been lost, can be restored. And this song sums that up. And as you listen to it, think of yourself as that prodigal, wondering if you can ever go home again, wondering what’s waiting for you there.

Jubilee I can tell by the way you're walking, that you don't want company, I'll let you alone and I'll let you walk on, and in your own good time you'll be, Back where the sun can find you, under the wise wishing tree And with all of them made we'll lie under the shade And call it a jubilee

And I can tell by the way you're talking, that the past isn't letting you go.

But there's only so long you can take it all on, And then the wrong's gotta be on its own

When you're ready to leave it behind you, You'll look back, and all that you'll see

Is the wreckage and rust that you left in the dust

On your way to the jubilee

And I can tell by the way you're listening, that you're still expecting to hear,

Your name being called like a summons to all

Who have failed to account for their doubts and their fears.

They can't add up to much without you, and so if it were just up to me

I'd take hold of your hand, saying come hear the band

Play your song at the jubilee

And I can tell by the way you're searching, for something you can't even name

That you haven't been able to come to the table, simply glad that you came

And when you feel like this try to imagine, That we're all like frail boats on the sea

Just scanning the night for that great guiding light

Announcing the jubilee

And I can tell by the way you're standing, With your eyes filling with tears

That it's habit alone keeps you turning from home, Even though your home is right here

Where the people who love you are gathered, under the wise wishing tree

May we all be considered then straight on delivered

Down to the jubilee

'Cause the people who love you are waiting, And they'll wait just as long as need be

When we look back and say those were halcyon days We're talking 'bout jubilee.

by Mary Chapin Carpenter

© 1994 Why Walk Music

So if you’ve come here tonight on your way home from some far country, know that you can always come home... And there will be a jubilee.

Home   

Prayer_Requests   Pastor's Page    What's Happening     Who_We_Are     Where_We_Are     Why_We_Are