A Kiss, a Ring and a Robe
The Reverend Shearon Sykes Williams, Fourth Sunday in Lent, March 30th, 2025
Luke 15: 1-3, 11b-32
“…So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him…”. Luke 15: 1-3, 11b-32
If there is one story that communicates the essence of the Gospel, it is the Parable of the Prodigal Son. This story is absolutely stunning in it’s beauty, it’s poignancy, it’s power, and most importantly, it’s truth. It’s deep truth about us and about God.
This parable is particular to the Gospel of Luke. Luke has been called the portrait painter of the Gospel, and for good reason. His storytelling creates clear images in our minds. And not only clear images but images that evoke powerful emotions. It is little wonder that Rembrandt, the Dutch master who was perhaps more effective than any other painter in history at expressing the depth and complexity of human experience, chose to portray today’s story in breath-taking splendor. Rembrandt was a master of color and light. In his painting of the Return of the Prodigal Son, he shows a repentant son, kneeling at his elderly father’s feet. The son’s clothes are tattered, his head is shaved like a slave and he is barefoot. The father looks upon his son with absolute love and forgiveness, and he lays his large, gentle hands on his son’s shoulders. The father and son are bathed in a warm, glowing light, a light that shines not just ON them, but comes from deep WITHIN them. The painting captures a moment of stillness, grace, and profound gratitude. This son was LOST but now is FOUND.
There is no greater joy in life than finding someone whom we deeply love after they have become lost to us. I imagine the father in this story praying for his youngest son to return to him, LONGING for him, physically ACHING for him-perhaps begging that he be given the opportunity to see him one more time before he dies. And yet, in his darker moments, despairing that that day might never come. I can imagine the father going back to that horrible day when his son came to him and demanded his inheritance as if his father was already dead. That painful day, when out of love, out of respect for his son’s freedom, as hard as it was, he gave it to him, knowing that his son’s arrogance and sense of entitlement was going to take him far away. And the father’s worst fears were realized. His son did go far away. He became completely lost, lost to his family, lost to his community, and lost to himself. But no matter how lost he became, the father never forgot about him, never stopped longing for him, never stopped loving him. The light that shines in and around them at this moment of reunion is the light of reconciliation. But even as joyful as the father is when the younger son finally returns, the reconciliation is not complete.
For in the shadows, in shades of darkness, there lurks another figure, the father’s older son, looking in on this scene in absolute disbelief and disdain. How could this possibly be? How could his father take his good-for-nothing brother back after what he had done? How could he treat him like royalty when his brother had disowned them? How could his father have anything to do with him much less treat him like the crown prince? A ring, a robe, a kiss and even a fatted calf! This whole time he had been the loyal one, HE had worked his father’s land, he had done everything that was expected of him. This ridiculous old man had lost all sense of justice, all sense of propriety, RUNNING out to meet his no-load brother. He was consumed with rage. But beneath his anger was a deep hurt. Watching his father shower his brother with love absolutely pierced him to the core. Didn’t his father love him more than this reckless brother of his? Why hadn’t his father ever treated him this way?
This story begs the question, “which brother is the prodigal?” We always think of the younger son as the prodigal. Prodigal means “wasteful” and tradition has long referred to the younger son that way. He did do something truly heinous. There is no getting around it. He wasted his inheritance. He was disrespectful. He was deeply hurtful. There is a big, long list of his transgressions. But he also came to himself. He realized his wrongdoing and committed to do something about it. The older brother was a prodigal in a different way. He had never forsaken his father outwardly. He had been dutiful. He had done what was expected of him. But he wasted another inheritance. He squandered his father’s love for him. He had stayed, he had worked, but he had not loved his father in the unconditional way that his father loved him. There was no joy for him, only duty. That perhaps is an even greater tragedy, not realizing how deeply someone loves us and being unable to return that love.
All of us see ourselves reflected in this parable, whether as the impulsive younger brother or the indignant older brother. Many of us think about our siblings. These dynamics are fairly universal. Jesus told parables because they can be interpreted on many levels. We come in at the self-recognition level, the level of the siblings, and then we are invited to go deeper-going deeper by asking who the main character of the story is. The main character of the parable is not the younger brother. It is not the older brother. The main character is the father.
And it is important to remember who Jesus is speaking to when he tells the parable. He is addressing it to the Pharisees, the judgmental, dutiful adherents of the law. Jesus tells them this story in response to their grumblings, their indignation at Jesus for welcoming the sinners and outcasts and eating with them. He tells them this parable to help them to understand that grace far outweighs judgment, and that sin takes a lot of different forms. Both the younger and the older son had been sinful. They had cut himself off from the father. But the father loves them and wants to be reconciled with him and with each other. Jesus told this story, to paint a picture for the Pharisees- to help them see what the Kingdom of God looks like. They are invited to walk into the picture and God gives them the freedom to choose how they will respond. Each of us is given that freedom. We can choose to stay in a place of alienation, either clinging to our self-righteousness, or staying locked up in our self-centerdness, OR we can make the courageous decision to start the long journey home, knowing that when we arrive, the father does not ask us to grovel at his feet. No, the father runs to greet us with a warm, loving embrace, a kiss, a ring and a robe. For all of us become lost to our true selves, but we are never, ever lost to God. And once we have experienced that kind of all encompassing, soul deep love, the love born of forgiveness, that love that only God can perfectly offer us, we are invited to share that merciful love with others, and in the process, become more and more like the father. Amen.