The Lost Ones

The Lost Ones

Written and Delivered by Rev. Ashley Bair

Luke 15: 1-3, 11-32

Prayer: Lord, open our hearts to your Word. May we be a conduit of your Spirit. Amen. 

Jesus’ parables account for over one third of his teachings in the Gospels. Sometimes, the parable Jesus tells his listeners is more direct, like the parable of the mustard seed: If we have the smallest fraction of faith, as small as a mustard seed, we can do seemingly impossible things. It’s a tough lesson on faith and fear, but a fairly direct message.

Other parables are not so clear. I would include this parable about a father and his two sons in that category. There is no real closure in this story and nearly every aspect of this text is ambiguous. We don’t know much about the context, we don’t know much about the characters, and though many have attempted to interpret different messages from this text, we don’t really know why Jesus told this story to his followers. It’s the last of three parables that tell stories about restoration, reconciliation, and repentance. In this parable, I’m not sure where you are, but I am feeling a little uneasy and attempting to decipher why Jesus told this story this way.

The disciples weren’t so sure, themselves, why Jesus used this kind of lesson with them. The Gospel of Matthew (10:13-16) writes that when the disciples asked Jesus, “Why do you speak in parables?” Jesus answered, “The reason I speak in parables is that ‘seeing they do not perceive, and hearing they do not listen, nor do they understand.’

Fulfilled is the prophecy of Isaiah that says: ‘You will indeed listen, but never understand, and you will indeed look, but never perceive. For this people’s heart has grown dull, and their ears are hard of hearing, and they have shut their eyes; so that they might not look with their eyes, and listen with their ears, and understand with their heart and turn— and I would heal them.’ But blessed are your eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear. Truly I tell you, many prophets and righteous people longed to see what you see, but did not see it, and to hear what you hear, but did not hear it.”

I pray we open ourselves up today through this reading from Luke with wide eyes and ears to what possibilities may lie in the ambiguity.

We know that Jesus had been sharing these stories with his disciples for the purpose of social change. Jesus told this parable about the father and his two sons in a public place, where many different people could hear. This parable was shared with the tax collectors. We know Jesus was being persecuted by political leaders and admired by others, and the opportunity of a public telling space let different people hear different messages.

In this Lenten season, it is good to remember that we also know that Jesus was preparing to be killed at the hands of the Empire that he was working tirelessly against. The Empire that Jesus was calling out was one of political tyranny, one of racial and ethnic superiority, one of religious domination, economic manipulation, and theft, one of violent punishment and marginalized oppression.

Given this context, and Jesus’ time on earth closing in toward the end, it may not be too out of bounds to suggest that the reading of this parable can also be in light of the Empire. This simple story about a father and his two sons may actually contain some of the most provocative messages about wealth, oppression, and enabling systems than any other parable in the Gospels. Another lens to view this story is through the intertwining relationship between the privileged and the marginalized. Work that Jesus certainly was engaged in until his end. With that, it begs the question: Who is the privileged and who is the marginalized?

The older son in this story is the worker. And while we don’t know what kept him there and whether he had the same options as his brother, we do know he is one who works in the field and who likened himself to that of a slave. We also know that he never received the same communication or inclusion that the younger son did. He was never able to welcome him home because he wasn’t even informed, he was there. He is one who lives on the ground, one who’s place has been marked by the dirt, one who labors without recognition. The older son has been contributing to the resources of his family with no reward.

The younger son basks in the weight of his inheritance; of what he is entitled to. He simply asks for it and receives it. We don’t know what drove him to leave or why he spent his family’s money the way he did, but he leaves the family and spends it all. After he depletes and exploits his legacy, he returns home. He practices what he will say upon return to make amends and is warmly accepted and embraced without question. The younger son who contributes nothing to the family, wastes the resources and is rewarded.

The father is the one with resources to share. The one who not only ignores the family working in the fields but expects their constancy. The father is the one who reaps the benefits of unpaid labor. The one who makes mistakes in relational commitments. The father is also the one who displays ceremonious unconditional love.

But why toward one son and not the other?

In this parable, and through this lens, we are challenged by Jesus’ story to examine our impulses to prioritize the lives and feelings of the ones able to squander over the ones in the field - of the privileged over the marginalized. “While there is no question that the return of the younger son is something to celebrate, the problem is that his leaving and returning lead to the neglect of the other son.”^[1] How have we prioritized the privileged over the marginalized? Where do we see the one who labors and is ignored and the one who takes what he feels he is owed and comes back for more and the one who enables both to happen?

As the kin of God, we are family no less tied to each other than the father and his sons in this story. Whether we are the laborer or the one with the responsibility of a free inheritance or the one with wealth to share, we have stake in the reality of Jesus’ challenge in this parable. And it doesn’t mean just finding our place in the story, but as our Lenten call reminds us, it means taking steps toward reconciliation. It means taking steps to find our impulses, confess our wrongdoing, and live into God’s grace and forgiveness for ourselves and those in our family so we can take steps to be the reconciled family of God for which we are created.

In the story of the father and his sons that Jesus shared, no matter how you interpret the characters, even in the ambiguity, there is an underlying feeling that what happened is not fair. And how do we move forward in a story or situation that is not clear and unfair?

For the past few years, I have been following the call from the Association of Black Seminarians at Princeton Seminary, my alma mater, for reparations equaling to $6 million a year, which is about 15% of the seminary’s endowment spending. This call came as result of the seminary’s release of a report on its history and ties to slavery. Princeton, as most of the nation’s oldest buildings and institutions, including churches, was built in part with the unpaid labor of black people enslaved. Enslaved people who were owned by Christian professors and theologians.

That report found that the seminary extracted wealth from the labor of enslaved Africans in the period of 1812-1861. Slavery accounted for no less than 15% of the Seminary’s income and as much as 30-40% of the Seminary’s revenues during that period. It was also during that time that the Seminary’s endowment was established, one that would provide assistance for future church leaders, for many years when Black students were not admitted. Therefore, 15-40% of the Seminary’s endowed wealth was sourced in the labor of enslaved Africans in the US and the economic activity derived from that stolen labor for the benefit of someone else.

The students of the Association for Black Seminarians recognize in their call that the seminary has taken steps to find their impulses, look at their history, and return home confessing for the wrongdoing and violence and pain they inflicted through the sins of their past. And they continue to state that now is the time for the reconciliation of the family.

While one son was spending his family’s money, another son was laboring for it with nothing. And it needs more than repentance, it needs recognizing our siblings who are laboring with no communication or inclusion, on the ground, without pay or recognition, contributing to the resources of the family with no reward or celebration.

We don’t have to look far to see our siblings ignored and distressed. Slave labor is what built most of this nation's infrastructure. Today, immigrant labor in the crops is what provides most of the fruit and vegetables we eat on our table. Child labor in the dirt accounts for most of our clothing. And while we don’t know completely what brought them there and whether they had an option, we do know they are the ones who work in the field. And they are our family.

We don’t have to look far to see our siblings who have left with the family’s resources. Not always an intentional consequence, the lives of those with economic prosperity, white presenting skin, higher education, high language skills, and ability to relocate are easier to forgive and are celebrated when they repent. And they are our family.

We don’t have to look far to see the fathers with wealth who enable the systems that create such a strange and distorted family dynamic. Big business, governmental persuasion, privatized health care, exclusive religion. The same powers that people cling to, like money, status, culture and relationships, are the powers of the Empire that Jesus was trying to work against when he shared this story to those around him.

And the father is our family, who also has the power to do something else. Within this story is the lasting image of the embrace of a lost one. The unconditional love that welcomes home kin with open arms, spreads out the table for their benefit, rejoices in celebration at their life and presence.

There is Good News in this story from Jesus and it is this: that the beauty of that moment of reconciliation is what we all long for and deserve. That is a picture of the love of God for us. It is the love we have been called by Christ himself to share with our earthly family. The issue is that we are a family with siblings who have not yet received that welcome.

And the ambiguity and lack of closure in this story may be purposeful in order for us to find ourselves not distanced from it, but in it. In this Lenten season we know that the work is still not finished. We know that Christ is preparing us for what is to come.

We know that, like his followers, Jesus’ teachings ultimately point back to his purpose on earth: to reconcile us all to God and remind us that we are conduits of God’s love here, now.

The Good News here is the beauty of unconditional love - our charge today is to decide who is it for?

Amen.

^[1] Enfleshed, Liturgy that Matters, 2019.