Today's Gospel story makes me squirm. No matter how many times I hear it or teach it or preach it, I feel as if I know the older brother too well…or that the storyteller knows me too well. Without a Ph.D. in psychology, Jesus told this parable of two sons one of which was an older sibling who followed the rules, who worked hard, who did what was expected of him and who certainly thought he would be appreciated and rewarded fairly for his efforts. Jesus seemed to have known as much as today's psychologists who often describe typical firstborns as responsible, serious, and goal-oriented. Expecting the world to be "fair," it is a huge wake-up call when a younger sibling, seemingly immature, less capable, less experienced, and less responsible is on the receiving end of the emotional or physical rewards for which the older one longs. Even worse, the younger siblings seem to have more fun, to be more relaxed, be willing to take risks maybe because parents are more at ease when the second and third child come along or just too busy to pay as much attention. Regardless of where we are in the birth order, there is a deep, deep longing to be unconditionally loved by someone, usually first our parents as the primary people in our world. There is a deep longing to feel unconditionally accepted, to live in an environment where we feel entirely and completely at home.

With this understanding of human nature that is much the same now as it was 2000 years ago, Luke introduced the Lost Sons story with the following sentences. "The tax collectors and sinners were all crowding round to listen to Jesus and the Pharisees and scribes complained saying, 'This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.' So he told them these parables." Those listening to Jesus were not his disciples but the sinners and the religious elite, the latter ones thoroughly confused and critical about why he would choose to have dinner with the former.

So Jesus began to address them all, the tax collectors and sinners who gathered around him and the scribes and Pharisees who listened but kept a safe distance from the others. He first asked how many of them, if they had a hundred sheep and lost one, wouldn't search until that one was found and then celebrate with all his neighbors. They all nodded. Jesus then said, "In the same way, I tell you, there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner repenting than over ninety-nine upright people who have no need of repentance." Who do you think was squirming then? Not the sinners, certainly.

Immediately following, Jesus told of a woman who lost a coin and searched her house until she found it, celebrating with her friends and neighbors. Jesus then said, "In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing among the angels of God over one repentant sinner." How do you think the tax collectors and sinners felt as they heard those words? Though these parables begin with the story of something lost, they really are stories of something found and the celebrating and rejoicing that follows.

Once he had the attention of his audience, Jesus launched into today's parable, not one of sheep or coins but one of human beings. As we think through the story with a few added details as it might have been, I invite those on my left to hear it as the tax collectors and sinners might have heard it and those on my right, as the scribes and Pharisees. Imagine if you would one of those beautiful spreads in West Marin that has been in a family for several generations, a three-story rambling farmhouse with large rooms and verandas set back from Highway 1 with barns and other out buildings, big oak trees and eucalyptus, green rolling hills with cattle, sheep and goats and some dogs and chickens running around near the house. Jesus said, "There was a man who had two sons." This was a wealthy man with property and slaves who lived in the Marin County area of Judea. He was part of the establishment and knew the laws just as the scribes and Pharisees did. Jesus didn't mention wives so it is likely that both sons were not yet twenty years old. They would live on the land until the old man died, at which time everything would be divided between the sons. The oldest, as tradition dictated, would get two-thirds and the youngest would get one-third. But instead, the younger one, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old, the same as one of our high school youth, approached his father and said, "Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me." This wasn't a question. It was a command to which the shocked father seemed to readily agree. A few days later, the young man with the value of one-third of that West Marin property, was traveling off to a distant country. Now, going to a distant country was not an easy or safe thing to do in those days. Usually people would travel together in caravans to support and protect each other from thieves. Not knowing other languages he would need to use the riches that he carried to bribe those he met for safety as he moved from one nation to the next and tried to feed and protect himself.

Now, can you imagine what might have been said back home to his father and about his father behind his back? His younger son had treated him as if he wished him dead and his father had caved into his demands. His brother was left with the responsibilities of both sons. Even today when travel is somewhat easy and safe, if a high school graduate asks for money to travel the world; Thailand, India, Afghanistan; neighbors and friends grumble, even in Marin. Do you know what trouble he could get into? Shouldn't he be home working? Why isn't he earning his own money before taking an extended vacation? Don't his parents care where he is? What if something happened to him? Are they really going to give him enough money to go wherever he wants to go and do whatever he wants to do? Is it possible that he is never coming back home? Doesn't he care about the father and community who love him? Surely the neighbors questioned his father's sanity for allowing this to happen. Meanwhile, every morning while the older son was doing the work of both boys he would watch his father walk to the top of the highest ridge and search to see if his younger brother might be coming home. His heart would ache for his father as he felt his own anger and jealousy grow. He blamed his younger brother but he also blamed his father for giving in and allowing his brother to leave. He felt his heart distancing from his father's even though they shared the same house. The anger ate away at him as he watched his father quickly age. The anger ate away at him as each day he did his brother's share of the work on the land. His brother's room stayed as it was left, untouched. No parties were held. His father seldom smiled. It was as if his brother had died.

Then, one evening as the sun was setting and he trudged home dirty and sweating from another long day, he heard the unfamiliar sound of music. It was coming from the house. A celebration was going on and it could only mean one thing. He knew in his heart yet he had to be certain. Calling to one of the slaves, he hollered, "What's going on?" Then the story came out, all the details, even worse than he suspected. Though his young brother had sinned morally as he turned on his family squandering his inheritance and sinned ritually as he worked caring for pigs, he came trudging back home hoping for just a little bit more from his father. He didn't need much, only a job and some bread. He would be happy with that. Instead, his father saw from a distance his slumped shoulders, his slow, exhausted, dejected walk, and though he was many pounds lighter his father recognized him immediately and started running. He ran and he ran, his heart about to burst, threw his arms around him and smothered him with kisses. The younger man began his practiced speech, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you…." but he was unable to get all the words out before his father dressed him in special clothes: his best robe, a ring significant to the family, and sandals, never worn by barefoot slaves or hired help but only by people of the household. The calf was slaughtered and already roasting on the fire, the guests were arriving, the music was playing and the dancing had begun before his older brother fully realized what was happening. Then, as the slave finished the story he repeated what the father had said upon his brother's arrival. Those words felt like a knife being twisted into the older brother's chest. "Let's eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!" In a brief moment, the slave caught the sight of the brother's sad face revealing the thought he couldn't hide, "But Father, what about me?"

What were the Scribes and Pharisees hearing at this point in the story? Has the father no values, no standards? What about the laws and traditions? The young son had shamed himself and his family. He was unclean. If he were truly sorry, he could be allowed to come back and given a place to sleep in the barn and some food, maybe, but a party, with robes and rings and music? Is this justice or extravagance? This is too easy. It is Cheap Grace. What message would this send to the other young men in the community who might want to try the same thing?

Tax collectors and sinners, there has been rejoicing and celebrating over a lost sheep, then a lost coin, and now a lost son. Could it be that after living in his own self-imposed exile from his loving father he could turn his life around, he could wrestle with who he is and come to his senses returning home without facing punishment, that he could come home and be welcomed back as if it had never happened? As Rembrandt's beautiful painting shows the son welcomed into his father's loving arms, his hands gently but firmly caressing the boy's shoulders unable to consider responding in any other way.

However, there stands the older brother, critical and serious, separated from the two. "Don't pout," my mother used to say to me so many, many times. He couldn't believe that his father would do this after all the pain that he had endured at the younger brother's hand. He stayed back from the party, refused to go in until his father, realizing his absence came out to him, just as he had come out to reach his brother. The father came to reach the older one with the same love and compassion and pleaded with him to join the celebration. But instead, all the pain boiled up and exploded out of the son in his harsh words, "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!" We can hear the pain in his voice, the longing to be appreciated for all he has done, unable to comprehend that love isn't a competition or a zero sum game. His father responded with emphasis, "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." However, the older son had already departed on his own journey of resentment and jealousy, like many of us who tend to keep score and worry about getting our own fair share, who strive to be right even when we are not compassionate. For those of us it is very difficult to open ourselves to God's compassionate love. The son, angry and hurt, lingered outside refusing to fully trust his father and enter the party. How long will we hold back from fully trusting God's love though over and over we are invited in to the party, no questions asked.

The beautiful thing about shedding our barriers and accepting God's unconditional love into our lives is that we can stop searching for it, no longer striving for it, no longer measuring ourselves against others, no longer waiting for someone else's apology before offering our own, no longer worried about what people think of us. We can stop wasting our energy on comparisons and start giving God's compassion to others. In Henri Nouwen's wonderful book, The Return of the Prodigal Son, he says, "I am convinced that many of my emotional problems would melt as snow in the sun if I could let the truth of God's motherly non-comparing love permeate my heart."¹ Jesus told of just one sheep, one coin, two sons being saved. We are called to grow out of being the younger traveling son or the older stay at home son and instead to become the father. Jesus asked us to, "Be compassionate just as God is compassionate"² We are all invited to the party. Let us receive God's love and join in the dancing!

1. Nouwen, Henri J.M., the Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming, p. 104

2. Luke 6:36