• A man had two sons…

    This sermon was preached on the fourth Sunday in Lent – 30 March 2025. I’ve not preached very often on the parable of the Prodigal Son as we usually baptise on this Sunday. As I post it, I tip my biretta towards the wonderful Amy-Jill Levine whom I have encountered teaching on this parable. She always gets me thinking…

    Once upon a time, many years ago…

    It was a dark and stormy night…

    A long time ago, in a galaxy far away…

    You wouldn’t believe what happened that day, which seemed like a day just like any other…

    They are clichés. Tropes. Repetitive pattens. And they tell us to listen up. There’s a story about to begin.

    These are some of the ways in which stories begin in the English language. I suspect that there will be people here who will know how stories begin in other languages too.

    And to Jesus’s listeners, he would have immediately grabbed their attention with his opening line. It was obvious that a story was about to be told.

    “There was a man who had two sons…”

    It is a classic start to a middle eastern story. My guess is that most of those listening to him when he first told the story would have immediately tuned in to the story with a connection to the many times in the Hebrew scriptures that there are stories about older and younger siblings. Cain and Abel. Isaac and Ishmael, Esau and Jacob, Leah and Rachel. Joseph and his coterie of many brothers, and Aaron and Miriam and their younger brother Moses. Those are the more famous ones but there are others. Manasseh and Epraim, Serah and Perez, Adonijah and Solomon.

    And the more you know about those stories, there’s something that you would automatically presume if you heard a story that begins begins – “A man had two sons…”

    If you heard a story that began like that then you knew, pretty much from the beginning that the good guy in the story, the one who is going to come out on top is going to be the younger brother.

    Scripture is riddled with stories in which the unexpected sibling is the good guy.

    Those first hearers might have been brought up a little short.

    For the younger son doesn’t seem to me to ever turn out to be the good guy in the story at all.

    There is an interpretation of this story which sees him sinking deep into a sinful life and then repenting and going back and being forgiven. And we are served up this story in Lent, when repentance and forgiveness are what we focus on. But the longer I’ve read this story the less I’m convinced that the boy actually does much repenting at all.

    If ever I’ve got something difficult to say, I’ll rehearse a little speech in my head first and that’s what the dissolute boy does here. His problem is that he’s hungry and his little speech seems to me to be a rather conniving way to get his father to feed him.

    Some people see the prodigal as a model of repentance. But I’m not convinced.

    Even the words that he does get out of his mouth. “I have sinned against heaven and before you…” are more of a formula than an apology. (And they echo the words of a decidedly unrepentant Pharoah to Moses in the Exodus story that all Jesus’s hearers would have known well).

    So I see the prodigal as being dissolute and a rather too clever for his own good.

    If you betted on him turning out to be the good guy, your bet might not be feeling terribly safe at this point in the story.

    And you know what?

    The father loves him anyway.

    The father just loves him and shows that love in ways that were obviously offensive to the boy’s rather prim older brother. And the father loved him despite even that.

    His father adored him. And loved him. And welcomed him home.

    And for me, I think that is what is at the heart of this story. The prodigal isn’t welcomed back as a redeemed sinner. He’s welcomed back home.

    Stories of finding a welcome where one doesn’t deserve it or expect it are stories with the gospel hard wired into them.

    This is a congregation made up quite significantly of people who might not have expected to find a place here. Lots of us come from different religious traditions. Some of us come from no religious tradition. Some of us have lived our lives bowing to ideologies that rub up uneasily against the teachings of Christianity. Some of us have bowed to the false gods of wealth and materialism. Some of us have bent the knee to the gods of power and control. Incel culture, much talked about at the moment, is a part of that. (And I know that some of us have been bound up in that world at times in our lives).

    Do these things need repentance? Yes of course they do. We can only be whole when we put things right.

    But you know, God loves us anyway. Whatever the state of our souls, whatever the extent of our sincerity, whatever is going on inside, God already loves us anyway.

    That is the glorious scandal that those who explore spirituality eventually come to discover. There are many who teach that God’s love is a matter of justice and that that God needs to be appeased for our wrongdoing if we are ever to find our way to heaven.

    I don’t see it that way. I think God loves us anyway. The sun goes on shining. God goes on loving.

    Scooping us up with a warm embrace when we least deserve it. Welcoming us home.

    But of course the story doesn’t end there.

    I’m not sure that we know the end of the story.

    The story of the prodigal begins with an obvious storyteller’s trope. But it doesn’t end like that.

    If Jesus said, “And they all lived happily ever after” we’d know he was done.

    And we would know how things turned out between the older and the younger brothers.

    Did the father’s profligate generosity teach the elder brother how to live and forgive? And did the prodigal himself turn his life around for good?

    Jesus doesn’t give us easy answers and leaves the story unfinished.

    And I think he’s asking, “How would you end the tale?”

    How would you end the story?

    In the name of the ever-loving Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

4 responses to “Retreat”

  1. Carole Avatar
    Carole

    Retreat
    Interesting choice of theme for the Advent retreat.
    Mary Magdelen was of course know to be an energetic, implusive and caring woman. Quite a dream really.

    Unusual combination of food stuffs lentils and banana, anyway.

  2.  Avatar
    Anonymous

    Retreat

    Just struck by the coincidence that you and I were on retreat at the same time.  While you were considering the place of Mary Magdalene I was being led to listen more deeply to my dreams.  Through a process of table fellowship and sharing I came to find much meaning in what seemed like a completely random collection of items which regularly arise during the silent hours of the night:  medical pots; gas masks; military apparel; a purple stole; a half-mauled rabbit; a friendly ghost and a bottle of single malt.  I was really appreciative of my fellow retreatants one of whom, realising it was my first time, was very gentle with me and showed me the ropes.  The other, the slightly more talkative of the two, showed a persistent yet Liberal interest in delving deeper into my darkest recesses to see what might come up. If your retreat was anything like as rich as mine you should have enough to chew upon for a very long time, Kelvin.  Thanks for reading this anyway.

  3.  Avatar
    Anonymous

    Another dream
    I don’t know what that retreat started but since posting that last message I have had yet another dream.  In this latest one there were two soldiers carrying a sofa up a glen!!! What on earth does that tell me.  Any offers of help most gratefully accepted.

  4. Saph Avatar
    Saph

    Another dream
    As a person of quite mature years, let me share with you my thoughts on your dream.
    I see the soliders with their uniforms as a sign of discipline – perhaps you are searching for someone to take you in hand and put more structure in your life. The sofa to me represents comfort and familiarity maybe this is what you are searching for but combined with the rugged landscape of the glen are prepared to take the rough with the smooth. Sometimes our dreams are like a humane mouse trap, we are lured in with the promise of something nice to taste but in the end we are trapped and at the mercy of someone elses hand to release us back into the wild.

    I hope this has been of some help to you. Thank you for taking the time to read the ramblings of an old woman anyway.

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