I realize we read only the very beginnings of the three parables Jesus tells.   For the matter of time, I didn’t have her read the entire 15^th chapter of Luke.

The Pharisees and scribes are grumbling.   Seems they do a lot of that in the gospel of Luke.   Makes me think Luke must have been a leader in his own house of worship—knew how the synagogue folks can grumble sometimes.   Anyway, they are grumbling because Jesus apparently spends quite a bit of time with sinners, even eating with them.

Jesus hears the grumbling, and it puts him in a mood to tell a story, or two.

         A man loses one of his herd.   Leaves the 99 and finds the one.    Then as he finds it, comes rejoicing with the sheep on his shoulders, calling all of his friends and neighbors for a party.  “Rejoice with me for I have found the one that was lost!” he hollers.

Then, a second story.   A woman loses one of her small cadre of silver coins.   She sweeps and looks until she finds it.   And when she does, there in the night, she awakens her friends and neighbors and calls them to come and rejoice with her—“I found the one I lost!” she sings.

Jesus tells these two stories, and then he says, “I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

The two stories illustrate his point, but he thinks of an even better one.   A story where not an animal or a coin is lost, not a possession, but someone with the freedom to choose.

“A man had two sons,” Jesus says. The younger wants is inheritance, and amazingly, the old man gives it to him.   He runs off.   Surprise!   We all knew he would.  If he had any interest in staying down on the farm, well, he wouldn’t have been too worried about getting his inheritance, now would he?

Junior runs away, and before he knows it, the money is gone. We knew that would happen too! “Dissolute living,” Luke names it.  Living that dissolves everything you have.  The kind of living that dissolves your very identity.   Dissolute living.

When the money’s gone, and there’s a famine in the far, distant country where he run off to, he is forced to find a job.   And without much of an education or skill, the only job he can find is slopping pigs.

Interesting work, for a Jewish boy from Galilee.  Pigs were unclean.  Oh, I don’t mean covered in mud and smelly, I mean, unclean as in the Jewish law prevents them from touching them, certainly from eating them.    And here the boy is, feeding pigs.  While he himself is so hungry, that the pods he’s scooping to the pigs begin to look like his grandma’s home cooking.  What he wouldn’t give to eat as good as a pig.

This rock bottom place helps the boy come to his senses. “I’ll go back to my father’s farm,” he thinks.   Not as his son, but as his hired hand.   The help always had three squares a day and a roof over their heads.   That’s the ticket, I’ll go back and ask the old man for a job.

But he knows an apology is in order.   Some pleading and wheedling, perhaps.   And he starts to practice his speech on the way.

“Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you.  I am no longer worthy to be called your son.  Treat me as one of your slaves.”

As he’s finally walking up the path toward the homestead, his Father saw him.  And his heart nearly bursts in his chest.   He runs out to meet the son and pulls him close and kisses him!

        The boy begins his speech.  “I’ve sinned.   I am no longer worthy to be called your son.. .”   That’s all he gets out.

        The old man interrupts his well-rehearsed apology.  He’s shouting orders at his servants.  “Quick, bring out a robe, the best one.  No boy of mine is going to be seen wearing rags.   And you—put a ring on his finger so people will know who he is.   And get some sandals for his feet, no boy of mine will walk around without shoes.  And you—go get the best, fat steer we have and slaughter it and get it on the barbecue.  We’re going to eat and celebrate, we’re going to have a party, for this son of mine was dead, and is alive again; he was lost and is found!”

        Remember, the man had two sons.  The older comes in from the field that evening, and he hears the party, and a servant tells him why.  And he’s madder than everything.

        He won’t even listen when his father comes out and pleads with him to come in.   Thinks the old man doesn’t know how bad the little brother had been.  “He spent your money on prostitutes, pop!”  “I’ve been right here.   Right here.  Working like a slave for you, and HE gets the party!”

        And the father gives it one last try. “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.  But we had to celebrate.  We just had to!  Your brother was dead, and he’s come to life!   He was lost and has been found!”

        And THAT’s where Jesus does end the story.

        Hmm.

        We don’t know.   Whether the older son came in or not.   And that’s the point.   Some will choose to, and some will not.   Some will get it, what the party, what the celebration is all about.   And some will not.   It’s their choice. 

        The heavens will rejoice, Jesus says, when a sinner returns.   Comes home.   Welcomed by the Father.  The heavens will rejoice.   No matter how lost the sinner.   How far from home.   The heavens will rejoice.  

        There are possibly some here today who feel a bit like the son far from home.  Wondering if there is a way back.   You hear me, now.   There is not only a way back, but a warm welcome and some serious rejoicing waiting.  If you are struggling with your own return home, let me know.  In this church, we won’t throw the spotlight on you, we won’t put you in a conspicuous spot down here.  You just let me know, and we’ll talk.  Find the truth in the Bible together.  We’ll pray.  And we’ll help you find the door to the party.

In a moment, we’ll open the door to the party, symbolized on this table today.  You will be invited. To come home.  To rejoice with those who have been found.   It will be your own choosing to come or not.  No one will prevent you from this cup of mercy, except your own choosing. 

Luke’s brought to us in his gospel the last, like the Samaritan who is the last person who was expected to act neighborly to a wounded Jewish man alongside the road.   Luke has written about the least.  The beggar Lazarus, the bent woman, and the man with dropsy.   Finally Luke offers for our consideration the lost.   The son who returns, and the son who is standing outside wondering why.  A wealthy man longing to warn his brothers about the fate awaiting them.   A rich farmer with more crops than barns.  Pharisees who grumble and put the rules before compassion.

Ten lepers walk into Jesus’ life and into Luke’s gospel next week.   We’ll see what Luke is trying to tell us about them.   Let us prepare to come to the Table of our Lord.