I never disobeyed your command; yet you never gave me

Transcription

1 A ROBE, A RING, AND SHOES, Part II Luke 15: I never disobeyed your command; yet you never gave me Across all of the years of sermons which you have heard about the Prodigal Son, how many have focused on the older brother? I would guess few, if any. They are all about either the younger brother -- his coming to himself, his returning home, his desire to repent; or they are about the Father how he exemplifies love at its best, its finest, he shows God s love for us. Preachers love the younger brother, they love to hold up his self-imposed exile, his returning home, and then for some reason leave the impression that the older brother is not right, because he does not desire to share in the celebration. So I would like to take a few minutes and talk about the older brother. Many of the people in this world, and in this congregation, are themselves older brothers and sisters. So I think that those of you who are will appreciate the perspective all the more. I also would like to tell my tale in the first person so that it might relate better to your understanding of my situation. I cannot deny that this was one of the most ugly times of my life. I had just come in from working the fields all day. I was sweaty and tired the plow had broken in the middle of the field and there was no way to get it under some shade before fixing it. I was just drained, to say the least. Walking down the last quarter mile to the house is when I first became aware of something going on. I first heard music, then the sound of laughter; as I got closer the smells of the cooking came over me. I stopped the first servant to ask what was going on since Dad had not 1

2 told me anything about having a party. It was then that I first heard that all of this was being done for my brother, so I cannot deny the jealousy and hurt which rose up in me. Don t misunderstand me, I am not trying to make any defense for my behavior. I am not sure that I could even guarantee that I would behave differently today, if I had it to do all over again. But I do want you to hear that I certainly do regret my behavior, and I always will. Yet, even so, what I would like to do this morning is to relay to you what it is like to be an older brother maybe then you will understand me a little better, and I need your understanding. As those you who are elders already know, we older brothers and sisters are the responsible ones. I was responsible for a large farm. We had a lot of servants and workers, of course, but being a worker and being and owner are two different things. Servants take orders and do the task assigned; owners are the ones who take responsibility. If we mess up, the servants, and their families, don t eat. We are the ones who decide when the fields are ready to plow, we are the ones who pick the seed. We are the ones who decide how many sheep the fields can support. We are the ones who must plan for the unproductive years when crops fail and sheep die. It is my responsibility to see that there is enough food and money set aside to support the farm and all of its laborers through those lean years. Do you think that I had no thoughts of leaving? Do you really believe that there weren t some days or even months when I wanted to give it all up and just walk away? You think that I was born such a stick-in-the-mud, and did not have a desire for wine, and women, and song? Let me tell you something: I was born an older brother, the first born son of aging parents, and they looked to me to share the responsibilities which come with being an owner. From the very first day I had 2

3 life, I was raised to be accountable; I was told that not only my parents, but the servants and even future generations were dependent upon me. There is a touch of pride which goes with this, because I have taken on the role and I do it well. But there is also a degree of anger that such an expectation should be placed upon me simply because of the order of my birth. I also believe that us older brothers and sisters are harder to love. I wonder sometimes why people find it so easy to love my brother? His offenses are so clear he wasted money which had come from generations of hard work; he gallivanted around with harlots; when he did go out into the field he looked for ways to say he did the work without actually doing it; and when he did finally come home, he came with nothing to show for himself. So why in the world would anyone love someone like that? Maybe it is because he is so vulnerable. He was so obviously in trouble, and so badly defeated, that he offered up no threat. Maybe it is just as simple as the fact that it is easier to love people who are no threat to us the fools, the ones who write SIN in large letters as the walk through life. Across the centuries, I have been pictured by many as being self-righteous the hardest of all to love. But look into your own heart, you elder brothers and sisters, those of you who, like me, are responsible; you know that we are sinners as well. You and I both know that we do not always behave like we should. I work in the fields all day with the servants, and as the sun grows hotter and hotter my temper rises with it on some days. There are times when I find myself beating the ground so hard with a hoe that the handle breaks. Just the other day a goat kicked over a pail of milk, and I turned around and kicked the goat. You chuckle inside, I know, but it is the nature of us elder brothers and sisters to carry our anger, our sins, around inside of us hidden deep within our own hearts. 3

4 Think about it though. You really believe that I should go home to my father and say something like: Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. Today I kicked a goat. Come on, let s be real, we elder brothers and sisters are responsible, and our sins are not so obvious, nor are the easily shared. So, we are harder to love. Now in all fairness, I must also acknowledge that being responsible has its rewards. I really do understand what my father meant when he said: Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. I get it really. My satisfaction, true reward for my being responsible, it to look out across a field of sprouting green and take in the beauty of it all. It is a deep satisfaction to come to the season of harvest, gather it all in, see the storehouses full, and know that the work which I directed led to this production. My reward is that of a job well done, a household running smooth, people being fed, provisions laid up for not just winters but also lean years, and the taxes paid. I have the respect of those around me, I have the ability to share with the poor I do well, and I am proud of that. You know, we elder brothers and sisters are the ninety and nine who take care of ourselves. We are the ones whom the shepherd can leave without worrying about while he goes off to look for the one that is lost. I know where my rewards are found just like you do. They come every day in the little things, the ordinary, mundane keeping of our life. So it is very hard to see that no good son of. It is tough to watch as my younger brother come home empty-handed, have blown everything he had been given which generation of responsible people have built, including myself, and yet he receives the robe, the ring, and the shoes. He gets music, dancing, and a fatted calf roasting on the pit. What my mind understands does not always lead my emotions. 4

5 Well, that is my side of the story. With all the preachers bashing me for generations, I appreciate your willingness to hear me out I would like to ask you a couple of questions: How can we be saved we elder brothers and sisters? How can we go home again when we never left when we are already home? How can we confess the squandering of resources, the harlots, the neglect; when in fact we have spent our life building and not squandering, we have been responsible rather than wasting? How shall we be helped those of us with our anger buried so deep? How can we be loved when we show so little need of being loved? I wish to God I knew the answer to those questions. It has probably not escaped your attention that self-importance is one of the more obvious manifestations of this elder-brother syndrome which I carry around. You will remember that among other things I am noted for saying way: You never gave me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends. Well, the truth of it is that I never asked for one. I am sure that if I had, my father would have gladly provided what I wanted. But somehow, it never seemed appropriate. There was always so much to get done so many problems to solve and questions to address. Problems and parties just don t go together very well. To be more honest still I do not have many friends. Oh, I am respected by many people. When I go to the bank the teller knows me by name; I have never had a check bounce; I carry an American Express card; and there is always a table waiting for me at the local club but there is a big difference between respect and friendship. So I guess another question becomes: Is there another model for us elder brothers and sisters to follow? To some degree, salvation must be experienced by us in the same way that it is for our prodigal brothers and sisters. Our sins may not 5

6 be as flamboyant; some might even call them boring; but they are still just as damaging none-the-less. In fact, our hidden anger may be more damaging than their flagrant behavior. It even seems as though it might be easier to repent of what is obvious the flagrant sins done in a far country for instance, than it would be to speak of the pain of our jealousy and self-righteousness; the hidden anger which comes as we pursue our more ordered lives. God knows our hidden sins So here we stand, us elder children, solid citizens firmly planted before the cross. Erect we gaze upon this ultimate gift which has been given to us, but what is unseen by others is that our hearts are bowed. We know the embrace of his eyes even though we can never reach out and embrace him in body we never were much good at hugs either. There may be no turning spit with a fatted calf, and no music for dancing but we also are not very good dancers. But what we elders do, is to go down from the hill of Golgatha knowing that he died for us also. We go down to our green valleys and fields sprouting a strong harvest to come, knowing that all he has is ours knowing that we are his. Amen. 6