I realize that I have recently preached on this passage of scripture, but I feel compelled to speak on it again. The reason is that while on vacation I picked up Henri Nouwen’s excellent book entitled: The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming. It is one of those books that pulls you in as you read it. Nouwen tells about seeing a reproduction of Rembrandt’s classic work of art depicting this wonderful parable of Jesus. (To see the paintings referred to in the sermon, go to www.MulberryUMC.org, click on sermons and click on September 1, 2002) Two years after seeing the painting for the first time, he was able to travel to St. Petersburg, Russia where he saw the original masterpiece. It was as if the painting transported him to another world. He sat before the painting spellbound for hours. He took notes as the different tour guides came by to talk about the painting, but mostly he studied each person and each part of this classic work.
But there is also a story behind the painting that has to do with the life of Rembrandt himself. As you probably know, Rembrandt often painted himself in his work. His face would appear on one of the characters. In this particular painting, Rembrandt painted himself as the father who embraces his wayward son. He completed this work toward the end of his life when his sight was failing and his body was crippled through aging. You can see his far off look and the stiffness in his fingers. The embrace is warm and gentle. It would be interesting for each of us to put ourselves in this painting, as Rembrandt did, and see where we would place ourselves.
Let’s think about ourselves in relation to this story and see which character we most identify with. First, many of us can identify with the prodigal son. At some point in our lives, I suppose that most of us can remember when we ran away to explore the far country. We remember the rebellion and sins of our youth, and look with regret at some of the things we did. Like the prodigal, some of the mistakes we made had life changing consequences and we look back on our actions with remorse.
This was the case in the early life of Rembrandt. He was not always conscious of his need of God. His biographers tell of a proud and arrogant young man who had no moral values. He lived a sensuous life, and loved fame and luxury. He spent all the money he made from his paintings and more. When he was 30, he painted himself and his current wife as the prodigal and a prostitute in a brothel. At this point in his life, he identified not with the father, but with the prodigal. Here he sits in the painting with a loose woman on his lap and a large glass of ale half gone. There is a drunken look to his face, and the curtain is drawn. He has a look of arrogance with long flowing hair, and a velvet cap with a huge white feather. He has a sword with a golden handle
Later on in life his cavalier lifestyle would destroy him. His popularity as a painter plunged and his critics grew. He came to a financial crisis and had to sell his large collection of paintings, his vast accumulation of artifacts, his furniture and even his home. Three auctions wiped out his wealth. Several marriages and relationships failed. Most of his children died. When he died in 1669, he was a poor and lonely man.
But the experiences of life seemed to deepen him rather than embitter him. His paintings began to take on a new depth and warmth. Light came from interior sources. The colors are richer and the themes nobler. In the painting of the return of the prodigal son, we see a young man whose head is shaved — a sign of slavery. Gone is the long flowing hair that once crowned Rembrandt’s head. There is no hat, feather or fine clothes; filthy rags barely cover his body, and what was left of his shoes is falling off his feet. He is on his knees weeping as he is embraced by the father.
Most of us have been there — scourged and shamed by our sin, and coming to the Father begging for his forgiveness, while understanding that we are not worthy to receive it. As with the words of Isaiah: “All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away” (Isaiah 64:6). The amazing thing is that we are willing to settle for being treated as a slave — after all we have been living like pigs — but the Father insists on embracing us as sons and daughters. This is the good news of the Gospel. If we have been living as the prodigal, all we have to do is repeat to our heavenly Father the words that young man used: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son” (Luke 15:21). With that act of repentance and contrition, our relationship with the Father changes immediately and eternally.
But there is another person in the story with whom it may be more difficult to identify. The second person we may identify with is the older brother. This is the child who never did anything wrong and always pleased her parents. He always did the right thing and could not understand why his brothers and sisters did things that were wrong and displeased the father. It never occurred to her to rebel. He was the good kid in school. She scorned those who did wrong things and got into trouble.
The elder brothers in Jesus’ day were the Pharisees. They were the good people and felt they were better than the common sinners. They deserved special treatment from the Father. These are those about whom Jesus said, “These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me” (Matthew 15:8). They understood rules, but they did not understand what it meant to have a relationship with the father. They thought they deserved God’s love because they had earned it. They had it coming. God owed them. But they never understood that what God was after was not their obedience, but their heart. They never understood that the Father’s house was inside them. They were the Father’s house. But he never made it home.
It occurred to me, as I continued to think about this parable, that the older brother was just as far from home as his younger brother. He looked on himself as his father’s slave. Listen to him as he says, “Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders.” I began to realize how difficult it would be for the older brother to do what the prodigal did — fall on his knees and say: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” Instead he said that he had never disobeyed his father’s orders. That may have been correct, but the problem was he saw his relationship with the father as a matter of obeying orders. He obeyed the father, but he had never responded to his father’s love, or given him a place in his heart. Imagine this moral and responsible man falling on his knees, burying his head in his father’s chest and saying he was unworthy to be called a son. It is almost unthinkable. He had done nothing wrong. He had not sinned against heaven or his father in his mind. He certainly could not see that he was not worthy to be called his father’s son. But that is precisely what he needed to do, because his heart was not one with his father. He wanted to be good so he could be proud of who he was and what he had done, not because he loved the father and wanted to be like him.
It is very hard for good, moral people to see their need of God. They can’t think of anything for which they need to be forgiven — oh, maybe a few minor indiscretions, but nothing serious. Certainly not as serious as others they know. They forget that a relationship with God is based on grace and not merit. Older brothers (and sisters) have a hard time understanding grace and the need for it. They forget the verse that says: “There is no one righteous, not even one” (Romans 3:10). And the passage that reads: “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). The person who is truly walking with God becomes more aware of their sinfulness with the passing of time. They are more aware, but it does not become a source of guilt, it becomes a source of thankfulness for the grace of God.
The older brother has a sense of ownership: “This is my house.” The mentality of the older brother is that he deserves certain things, and things should go his way. He has been in the father’s house the longest, therefore he is the more deserving. He looks down on those have come only lately wanting to be a part of the father’s house. Look at the painting as the older brother holds his arms locked around his body, while the father stretches his out to receive the wayward son. He stands stiff. He keeps his distance. There is a light radiating from the father, but he is standing in the darkness. He is standing on a step, symbolizing the fact that he feels he is a step above the rest. There is a look of disdain on his face. His body is motionless in the presence of this brother who is in need. You know that in his mind he would like to see him gone. He would invite him to leave if he could. The presence of this younger brother has made life more difficult now, and he is jealous of his place in the father’s house. There is no love, no compassion, no welcome. He might have allowed his brother to come onto the grounds as a slave, but not as a brother. He failed to see the sins in his own heart. He was proud, cynical, selfish, and resentful. Reflecting on the his own likeness to the older brother, Nouwen says, “Returning from a lustful escapade seems so much easier than returning home from a cold anger that has rooted itself in the deepest corners of my being.” Although the older son had learned to hide his sins well, we hear him whining and complaining about how hard he had worked and how little recognition he had received. He wallows in his anger, jealousy and resentment. Nouwen says, “In his jealousy and bitterness, the elder son can only see that his irresponsible brother is receiving more attention than he himself, and concludes that he is the less loved of the two.”
But let me give a word of warning to the younger brothers and sisters who know what I am saying. There is a danger of the prodigal son forgetting about his journey into the far country. There is a danger of forgetting where you have been and from where you have come. There is a danger in growing up and becoming responsible — you may begin to be the older brother yourself. I have seen this many times over the years as a pastor. The very ones who in the beginning were so very grateful that they could experience the grace and forgiveness of God forgot how little they deserved the embrace of the Father. They learned the Bible and now lived a moral life. They worked for the Lord. And it was not long until they were feeling entitled. They became hard and rule driven. It was not long until they were judging others and looking disdainfully at those who were steeped in sin. The young prodigal can become the older brother.
But there is another person with whom we need to identify. The third person we must identify with is the father. Eventually, every son must grow up to be a father himself. Eventually, the young prodigal would have to take on the responsibilities of leading the household. Eventually, the young son would have young sons of his own. The time would come when he would have to embrace them after they rebelled and wanted to return home. The one who received grace and forgiveness would be able to give grace and forgiveness, because he had seen it modeled. Because he learned what a father was like, he would be able to forgive, extend grace, welcome his child home and embrace. He would learn to throw parties.
One of the things that is more difficult to see in the painting is the carvings on the stonework of the house. Etched into the pillar outside the house is a flute player — the promise of a party which would take place inside the house. God loves to throw parties. Jesus told the parable of landowner who prepared a great feast and invited everyone to come. He said that at the end of the world God will throw a great banquet, and will say, “Blessed are those who are invited to the wedding supper of the Lamb!” (Revelation 19:9). So many see God as constantly serious and solemn. But the father in the parable mirrors the disposition of God when he says, “Rejoice with me.” Jesus said that he wanted his joy to live in us (John 15:11). He is the God who loves a party and hilarity. He is filled with joy and desires to share his joy with us.
When we grow up spiritually we do not become like the older brother, we become like the father. The time comes when, because we have been comforted, we are the ones giving comfort. We take the responsibilities of leadership in the home. We become mature. We are the ones seeking the lost, the erring, the sinful, the hopeless. We are looking for them while they are still a long way off. We are longing for them to come home. We are here for those who have failed and are tired, disappointed, guilty and ashamed. We say to those with ruined lives: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted” (Matthew 5:3-4). This is our inheritance from the Father. And this is why the older son also squandered his inheritance, because he never spent his love — even though it was so perfectly modeled by his father. He did not spend it wildly, he never spent it at all. He kept it carefully locked up inside. He wasted his inheritance because he never used his inheritance. In the words of Nouwen, he became “deaf to the voice of love.” But Jesus said, “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful” (Luke 6:36). We are to take up our inheritance and become like the Father.
If you have ever read anything by the Russian novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky, you know the spiritual depth he brings to his writings. He wrote books like Crime and Punishment and The Brothers Karamzov, which many consider to be the greatest novels of all time. Like Rembrandt, he had lived the life of the prodigal in his early life. He was a part of the aristocracy, but his rebel spirit landed him in prison. While there in that brutal Russian prison, he was given a New Testament, and reading stories like the prodigal son had an enormous impact on him, and he came home to the Father. As he was dying, he insisted on holding the New Testament given to him on his way to Siberia. His last request was that the story of the prodigal son be read to him. That simple biblical story had changed his life during the ten years he spent in a Siberian labor camp. The story of the prodigal shows up in some form in most of his books. As his casket was carried through the streets of Saint Petersburg, forty thousand people braved the elements to join the funeral procession of this wayward son who had not only come home to the Father, but became like the Father.
God is changing the world one life at a time. Prodigals are coming home and finding the embrace of their Father. And the world is becoming a place of grace as they become like him.
Rodney J. Buchanan
September 1, 2002
Mulberry St. UMC
Mt. Vernon, OH
www.MulberryUMC.org
Rod.Buchanan@MulberryUMC.org
