"Returning to the Arms of LOVE"

(Please read Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32 The Parable of the Lost Son)
Lectionary Lent 4-C

Oh. the Parable of the Lost (prodigal) Son. How we do love this parable. Perhaps we first heard of this in the Sunday school classes of our childhood. Throughout our lives, sermons have been preached on this teaching. Many of us have read books based on these very words of Jesus and we've gazed at paintings depicting the story. It seems like the spotlight always falls on a dirty, weary, philandering and squandering son collapsing into the arms of a loving father who has dreamed about and waited for this very moment. Always, it seems that the older brother is pictured off in the darkness, in the shadows, staring at his unclean, sinner-of-a-brother returning to the arms of LOVE.

There was a moment, as I first opened the doors to the Chapel of the Prodigal in the beautiful, small mountain town of Montreat, North Carolina, when I heard whispers of this parable that changed my thoughts of it all. There is no where to look in this chapel other than toward the altar wall for it is covered with a fresco depicting the return of the prodigal son to his father. The permanency of the art of fresco itself whispers "Look this way. This is a forever thing." The pigments have become absorbed into the plaster. The fresco has become the wall. For as long as the wall of this chapel stands, the message of the Scriptures embedded in the plaster will forever be seen.

There is a "forever and always" longing and love by a parent for the return of the wayward child. Or at least that is what I saw in the fresco. The father had watched for his child with the eyes of love. He watched for him with such intensity that he saw his beloved son while he was still a long way off. As the artist depicted by painting a robe thrown over the railing of the rooftop, this father was so filled with compassion and joy at the first glimpse of his child returning to him that he ran toward him, leaving his robe behind. Running, baring his ankles, welcoming one who had brought shame to his family. Certainly this was not to be done by any man of respect and honor. But it isn't about the wayward son is it? It's about a forever kind of love. In the silence of the chapel, one might hear God whisper, "I have seen who you were before you turned to me and I have loved you in my waiting. I have seen you look my way and my heart leaps for joy. From far away, I will see you take your first steps back to me and I will run to you. Before you take a breath to utter your well-rehearsed confessions, I will grab you in tight hugs and call for a celebration. You see, I have a love for you that is a forever love."

Oh, have I forgotten the older brother, standing off to the side in the shadows? I wish I could be the middle child in this parable. I've had a life-time of practice at that! I want to say to this older brother of the parable, "You are forgetting, aren't you? You are forgetting what it was like when you too collapsed into the waiting and loving arms of God. You are forgetting. You are forgetting what it was like when you were fitted with God's holy ring of inheritance. You are forgetting. You are forgetting when your weary and once-cold heart was first warmed by the robe of God's love. You are forgetting that God called for a celebration like none other when you came back home. Don't you see, dear brother? You are equally loved.

Yes, Jesus was speaking to the Pharisees and the teachers of the law when sharing this parable. And yes, some of these very same people would stir up the crowds and whisper the words "crucify him" into the ears of the soon-to-be gathered masses. But Jesus is also speaking to us as we continue on our Lenten journey. To both the younger and older brothers (or sisters), and yes, to the middle children as well, Jesus says, "You are loved equally, completely, fully. Return to the arms of LOVE."

O God . We rehearse our words too well, walking back to you, thinking that the words we have put together will make you love us more. But you wait for us, look on the horizon for us, hope for us and love us in spite of who we are. Soon, we will be reminded once more that you have lifted us up from our own dirt and dust and cleansed us. You have left this parable with an open ending, haven't you? Forgive us when we step back into the shadows and fail to welcome others home as you have welcomed them (and us). Forgive us for hearts that would rather attempt to weigh your love than celebrate your love. This day, as your children, remind us that we are indeed your beloved children welcomed into the arms of your great LOVE. Amen.

anna