Tag Archives: The Prodigal Son

Sermons

Is Any BODY There? Yes! The Prodigal Son Returns—Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32 [OR The Nuance of Smarty-Pants Phones and Resting in the Holy]

 

Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on March 30, 2025

[sermon begins after the Bible story of the Prodigal Son told by Jesus – worth reading as a sermon unto itself]

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32 Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to [Jesus.] 2 And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”
3 So he told them this parable: 11b “There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’ So he divided his property between them. 13 A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. 14 When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. 16 He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. 17 But when he came to himself he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! 18 I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.” ’ 20 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. 21 Then the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ 22 But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; 24 for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate.
25 “Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. 27 He replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.’ 28 Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. 29 But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’ 31 Then the father said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’ ”

[sermon begins]

“Look it up.” My mother’s words, back in day, would send my siblings and I to the massive family dictionary open on the book stand or the set of encyclopedias on the living room shelf. We’re not sure whether sending us to look it up:

  1. bought her time to herself. A full-time job AND five children were A LOT to manage;
  2. meant that she didn’t have to say, “I don’t know;” or
  3. was a parent instilling curiosity in their kids.

Likely it was a mix of each. Looking up words and ideas, maps and historical people was just what our family did. It was our family’s thing. Like some families camp and other families play sports. We looked things up. You can imagine the delight and wonder when computers more powerful than we could imagine came on the scene disguised as smarty-pants phones. Hanging out with my sibs these days includes deep discussions, questions, and looking it up on our smartphones. Curiosity runs amok in this crew.  The perils of doom-scrolling to emotional health and misuse of the interwebs to community health are widely known so I’ll refrain from enumerating them here. These clever devices are designed to foster dependency on the tech, misinformation, and monetized content, yet they are also tools that expand real human connection, care, and support.[1] We share each other lives and events there. These nuances are important as we ask and answer our Lenten theme: “Is Any BODY there? Yes!” And today we hear the call to Sabbath.

Sabbath means rest. [2] Sabbath is observed on Saturdays by Jews and on Sundays by Christians. The sabbath imitates God resting on the seventh day after forming creation.[3] The Third Commandment says, “Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy.”[4] Rest was a radical notion way back in the day when God’s people were trying to survive as desert nomads. Sabbath rest is way deeper than spa days, sports and fitness, or scrolling through our socials. Sabbath rest orients us to the holy, to God. Even better, we’re oriented BY God who mandated sabbath rest. Not to look it up to learn something, but to look up and be known by God.

There’s almost no better Bible story than the prodigal son for a day about remembering the sabbath and keeping it holy. A story about a determined and then desperate son being loved, embraced, and celebrated by a desperate and determined father. The younger son squandered all the money he had demanded from his father on what Jesus called, “dissolute living.” Great word. But here’s the focus today. The younger son looked up and saw himself with a clear mind when he was starving as the pigs dined. He looked up from the mud and saw himself. He remembered the community available to him. He remembered his father and knew he had to make an apology. He came up with one. No telling how honest it was. Armed with his apology, he headed home to his father.

Dad looked up and saw someone walking up the road. It was one of those moments, maybe you know the kind, where his heart knew but his head couldn’t catch up fast enough, so he just stood there, frozen, wondering if it was true.  But he knew, he knew his son’s shape, his walk, he knew HIM!  Before he could think any more about it, he moved like lightning! Later, he could only remember running as fast as he could; maybe even yelling as he ran. He was a sight—eyes wild, robes and dust flying all around, chickens scattering and squawking, he just simply couldn’t move fast enough. The father practically knocked them both over when he caught his son in his arms, rocking side to side with the excess energy, eyes weeping away the worry.

The son said something, but the father’s pounding heart must have blocked hearing it. All the father knew was to celebrate. That very moment was a celebration, and that celebration became a party – fatted calf, robe, ring and all! The older son couldn’t bring himself to go inside, isolating himself in righteous rage. How dare his brother show his face around here again! His father went out to him, affirming his worth and their deep connection while still rejoicing that the younger son was lost and now is found. You only have to look as far as our PEAK Support Group, “Parents of Estranged Adult Kids,” to know the heavy heart and helpless hope of a parent longing for their child’s return.

The holiness of reconciliation is like nothing else. Neither is its offense. We hear God’s word in Jesus’ story without missing a beat. It preaches itself as we take our sabbath rest here in worship. How many of us can relate to the older brother’s anger? It’s easy to understand. He’d been faithful and diligent, doing all the hard work while his younger brother left. Just left! Now he’s back and dad is throwing a party?! Inconceivable!

But there are some of us here this morning who can relate to the younger brother. Mistakes made that wounded us and key relationships. Deep regret about inflicting pain on someone else, on our families and friends. Wondering if God’s reckless grace can truly include even us.

At best, our Sabbath rest orients us and reorients us to this prodigal God of extravagant compassion as we look up and out towards being human together, in our bodies together. Technology augments our reality, for which there are many reasons to be grateful.[5] Many of us owe our health and wellness to that very technology. Still more of us are connected across space and time in real relationship because of it. I’m in regular contact with friends from long ago and all over the world because of it!

But Lent is a perfect time to consider the effect of tech and its excesses on our bodies and relationships, too. Lent reminds that we hand ourselves over to all kinds of things that are not God, squandering our longings and our hopes and wondering why we’re watching pigs dine.

The holiness of the sabbath is not self-generated. Holiness is not born from our music or singing. We don’t instigate holiness by our good deeds or compassion. The holiness is God’s and we but look up and reflect our experience of it as the church, the embodiment of Christ as God’s people in the world. A God who loves us when we’re close and when we’re far away. In our faithfulness and in our humiliation. In our daily work and in our return from wandering. We are ambassadors of God’s household—looking up to find whoever is lost from this house and embracing them into God’s life. For all of this and for more than there are words, we can say thanks be to God for unquenchable, reckless, prodigal, amazing grace!

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[1] Craig Mueller. “Augmented Reality” in Any Body There? Worship and Being Human in a Digital Age (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2017), 120-129.

[2] Frederick Buechner. “Sabbath” in Wishful Thinking: A Seeker’s ABC (New York: HarperCollins, 1973, 1993), 100.

[3] Genesis 2:3

[4] Exodus 20:8 and the Small Catechism of Martin Luther, Evangelical Lutheran Worship (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2006), 1160.

[5] Mueller, Ibid, 128.

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This is the second reading for worship. I didn’t explicitly incorporate it but it’s throughout the sermon.

2 Corinthians 5:16-21  From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way. 17 So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! 18 All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; 19 that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. 20 So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. 21 For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

Sermons

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32 “In the Father’s Voice”

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Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32 “In the Father’s Voice”

March 10, 2013 – Caitlin Trussell

Augustana Lutheran Church, Denver, CO

 

Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32 Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him.   2  And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”   3  So he told them this parable:
11  “There was a man who had two sons.   12  The younger of them said to his father, “Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’ So he divided his property between them.   13 A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living.   14  When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need.   15  So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs.   16  He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything.   17 But when he came to himself he said, “How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger!   18  I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you;   19  I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.”  20 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.   21 Then the son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.”   22 But the father said to his slaves, “Quickly, bring out a robe–the best one–and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.  23  And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate;   24  for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate.   25  “Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing.   26  He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on.   27 He replied, “Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.’   28  Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him.   29 But he answered his father, “Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends.   30 But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’   31  Then the father said to him, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.   32 But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’ ”

Luke 15:1-2, 11b-32: A sermon for the fourth Sunday in Lent, March 10, 2013

Caitlin Trussell, Augustana Lutheran Church

 

My son left.  MY SON LEFT!  He told me he wished I were dead, asked for his inheritance and took off.  I don’t know if he meant it but it doesn’t much matter one way or the other.  His heart was set on leaving and maybe giving him the money meant he would at least get what he needed to live.

 

He’s always been so tough, so stubborn.  Sometimes that worked for him and our household and sometimes it didn’t.  And he was never sure if I loved him as much as his older brother.  What is it with these kids that my love for them is the constant question?  Well, I suppose once he left, walked away as if I were dead to him, that question was no longer the question.

 

It ate me up at night, imagining all the things that could happen to him and not knowing if any or all of them were true.  Night after night I’d flop into bed, exhausted by the day’s work only to lay flat and be exhausted by the tossing and turning and wondering about my son.

 

I’m not sure how it happened but I must have slept because in the morning I’d wake up – scratchy-eyed and cotton-headed, but I’d wake up.  I’d wake up, head to breakfast and be met by sheer joy as I sat with my other son who stayed and worked beside me day in and day out; so faithful and so good.  He keeps the commandments faithfully and works hard as the head of the household.  You see, when I figured out the inheritance, I divided it between them.  Each of them received what I would have given them if I were dead.  My friends thought I was out of my mind.  It’s a little out of the ordinary but it works for us.  I still work where and when I can but he figures out what happens next for our household.  I love working side-by-side with him, living in the day-to-day with him.  Laughing at the old jokes, praying the prayers of our ancestors, disagreeing about who should do what, working up a good sweat, arguing about plans for planting and harvesting, walking down to the river at the end of a long day – all of it wonderful.  His faithfulness blesses me day-after-day-after-day.

 

He mentioned his brother from time-to-time.  Wondered where he was, and wondered why he didn’t want to live here.  I used to wonder why he didn’t go find his brother.  I told him stories to try to clue him in.  Like the time when David, our shepherd, went missing and then turned up a few days later with a wild story about finding one of his sheep he thought he’d never see again.  I think he even kicked up his heels a time or two before he could settle down.  Or the time when my sister, his Aunt Miriam, looked and looked and looked, practically turning the house upside-down, until she found the coin that she had lost.  It took her days to find it and days to put the house back together after the looking.  Truth-be-told we thought she was more than a little nutty at the time but we celebrated her find with her anyway.  I told him these stories and more; and still, he wondered and worked and wondered.

 

Not too many days ago, I was coming back outside after taking a break from the heat, and I saw someone walking up the road.  It was one of those moments, maybe you know the kind, where my heart knew but my head couldn’t catch up fast enough so I just stood there, frozen, wondering if it was true.  But I knew, I knew his shape, I knew his walk, I knew HIM!  Before I could think any more about it, I was off like a shot!  I only remember running as fast as I could; I think maybe I was yelling.  I’m sure I was a sight – eyes wild, robes and dust flying all around, chickens scattering and squawking, I just simply couldn’t move fast enough.  I practically knocked us both to the ground when I caught him up in my arms.  I know he tried to tell me something but my pounding heart must have blocked my hearing it.  I just knew we had to celebrate.  That very moment became celebration and that celebration became a party – fatted calf and all!  He wasn’t quite ready but we partied around him anyway.  I think he was in shock.  He was so hesitant, so timid.  I still only know what happened to him in the bits and pieces he has been willing to share.  I hope I hear more as he feels he can share it.

 

His brother is also in shock.  He couldn’t bring himself to be at the party that night.  I went out to talk with him and he actually said something about, “This son of yours…”  As if he had no connection to his brother at all!  I did my best to reassure him of my love for him and explain the party for his brother.  I told him, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.   32 But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’”  This wasn’t optional partying; this was HAD-TO partying.

 

In the aftermath of all that has happened, here is what I hope my children know – deep down to their very toe-nails.  I love them.  I love them when they’re close and when they’re far away.  I love them in their faithfulness and in their humiliation.  I love them in their daily work and in their return.  As inheritors of all that is mine, including my love, they are ambassadors of this household – finding whoever is lost from this house and bringing them to life again.  For all of this and for more than there are words, I say again and again, thanks be to God!!!