Forgiveness is usually a creative and positive experience. When the never able free library of Philadelphia declared a "forgiveness week" to return all overdue books they expected that perhaps 30,000 books of their 2,500,000-book collection would be returned. To the surprise of the librarians, 42,261 books were returned. One of them had been checked out in 1905, a biography of Sir Walter Scott. One person brought back 132 overdue books. One woman brought back a book which she had checked out six years before and wanted to renew it. Usually forgiveness works.
Jesus tells a story in which forgiveness becomes a problem.
The younger brother who had been away to the far country had come back to a grand welcome from his forgiving father. The party had just begun when his elder brother shows up on the back doorstep, coming in from the field, grumbling bitterly about what was going on. Now you would think that he'd be glad to knock off early in the day, come in from the heat of the field and join the party. You would think that he'd be happy that the family was reconciled once more, everyone back together, sitting at the same table. What was wrong with this elder brother? What was eating at him?
It's the same problem that affects most of us, but we don't talk much about it. The problem is envy. This elder brother could not tolerate the attention that his younger brother was getting, because he thought he was undeserving.
The apostle Paul encourages us to rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep. For those who've experienced success in life, share it, experience their joy and excitement with them. For those who are going through difficult times, acknowledge that you care, that you want to be a part of the healing process of grief.
The truth is that we find it easier to shed the sympathizing tear than we do to celebrate the success of someone who may be especially close to us. The success of my brother brings a bitter taste to my own dry mouth.
Envy spurs sibling rivalry to the point of distraction for parents. A younger brother was once given the first choice, "Which do you want, the red one or the blue one?" He hesitated and then burst into tears. "How can I tell until he chooses? I don't want either one, I want his."
Envy arises when we pay too much attention to someone else and not enough to our own life. The problem is aggravated when we lose opportunities in our own life because our eyes are so fixed on what someone else is getting.
The elder brother thought that the younger brother was getting better than he deserved. He said to his father, "Listen, all these years I've been working like a slave for you and I've never disobeyed your command. Yet you've never given me even a young goat that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours, (not my brother), this son of yours comes back, had devoured your property with prostitutes." Who said anything about prostitutes? Jesus' story didn't say anything about prostitutes. That was the imagination of his brother who was the good boy, staying at home, working hard, going to Synagogue, doing all the things that good people are expected to do. But his imagination raced wildly about what was happening in the far country with his younger brother. Well, you've killed the fatted calf for him when he comes back. It's just not fair.
Jesus tells this story to describe God's grace toward the outsider, toward those who are suffering alienation and separation from God and from others. God's grace is so great that we cannot even imagine how vast and deep it is.
The story was told by Jesus to address the religious people of his time, those people who worked hard, were faithful, kept the Synagogue going, who gave well, who were upstanding and respected in the eyes of their neighbors. He told the story to them because of his concern over their hardness of heart against people who were not like them, people on the outside who were suffering, who had done naughty things. Jesus was concerned that the religious leaders had lost sight of the vast scope of God's grace.
One problem is the certainty that some religious people have in judging and assessing their status before God, and the status of others.
One of my favorite professors in seminary was Fred Gealy, who taught New Testament. One day in class one of the students asked Dr. Gealy why the Jews don't believe in Jesus. Fred Gealy was a retired missionary from Japan. He was a superb organist. He opened every class with a prayer so moving that it was like sitting in worship. He played the organ every day in chapel. Every Wednesday morning, early, he led a communion service for all those who came. In response to the question, "Why don't the Jews believe in Jesus?", Gealy said, "That's not the issue. The question is, why don't I believe in Jesus?"
Why don't we? Why don't we take Jesus seriously? The question is not "What is she doing?", What ishe doing?", "Why don't they straighten up their lives?" The question for you and me is, "Why don't I take Jesus seriously enough to understand the magnitude of God's grace, and the love of God which is leading us and attempting to change our hearts?"
In the book of Revelation, John of Patmos writes as though there is a good book and a bad book with names list of those who will be blessed or not. You want to get your name in the Good Book... you want to do enough so you get your name in the Good Book.
Luke doesn't agree with that. Jesus doesn't agree with that. John is writing as if there were a maitre d' waiting at the door of the restaurant. "Let's see, sir, have you made reservations for tonight?" Jesus tosses the book away. God is not a maitre d'. God is the chef who says, "Come on in, we've got food for everybody. We're glad you came."
The elder brother thought that God and his father should be more like the maitre d', checking carefully for reservations. The father, Jesus said, like the chef, has enough for everyone.
The elder brother did not understand his father because he took him for granted. His father replied to him, "Son you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours."
The first mistake the elder brother made was to think that love is limited, and if the father shows his lavish love for my brother he won't have enough for me. Do you think if God parcels out enough love and success to someone else, God doesn't care about your life, that God's grace won't be coursing through your mind and spirit? God's love is not going to be leading you because God has blessed someone else? Is that your concept of God?
The second mistake the elder brother made is that he's too close to the father. It's the sin of presumption.
It happens in families between parents and children. We are alert to the first clever things our children do, it's wonderful and amazing, but through the subsequent years do we not take them for granted? Children also do not understand their parents. That was the issue here. The elder brother was so close to his father that he didn't understand him.
My father died when he was two years younger than I am now. I've got to confess that one of my regrets is that I didn't pay enough attention to him and let him know as much as I should have how he really was a very fine and good and caring father. I understand that now. We learn these things as we grow older. I'm sorry I didn't speak of my appreciation for him more often. It was the sin of presumption.
It's true in our worship, our life of prayer and out relationship with God, isn't it? Has prayer ever become a duty or worship, something we slip into because it's the thing we do on Sunday, without any sense of God's presence and awareness of love, and gratitude for all that God has given us? We may take these elements of bread and cup for granted. We're so close to it, we do it so much, that we lose a sense of this holy meeting time between ourselves and the spirit of God which hovers about us, waiting to be invited in.
This is a story of two brothers, one who fled to the far country and came home, and one who stayed home through it all. One was found and one remained lost. The one who wandered about in the far country was found, found himself and found his way home. The one who lived at home all the time was lost and never did find his way back because joy and judgment cannot coexist. Judgment and jealousy will damage the heart so badly that it cannot beat in time with God's spirit.
This is a story that doesn't have any ending. The older brother is on the porch, mumbling, grumbling, complaining to his father. His father explains how good and gracious God's grace is. But how does this story end?
It's one of those stories to which you write the ending. We don't know whether this religious, hard-working person who was filled with so much jealousy and envy that he could not see God's grade came in or not. We do not know whether he went in to sit at the table and enjoy the feast or not. Will you sit with someone who is an outsider, whom you don't understand, who has been separated from God and has not been a part of the family? Will you? Will you welcome them in and embrace them as a brother and sister, or will you complain against God, "This one whom you created has come back, and it's not fair. We've been doing all the work all these years."
The world is filled with God's grace, and we're invited to the feast at the banquet as a child and brother and sister of every other part of God's creation. How will you write the ending to this story for your life?