Prodigal or Penurious

sermon by Torin Eikler
Lent 4
II Corinthians 5:16-21 Luke 15:1-3,11-32

Quite a cast of characters in this story, aren’t there? A father, two sons, (presumably a mother), slaves, prostitutes, pigs, and one lone fatted calf to be specific. I wonder … which one is your favorite? I know I would definitely not want to be the calf. Although, at least he got to eat well while it lasted. I think my favorite is actually the slaves. According to the story, they are well fed, and though they work hard for someone who owns them, I imagine it would have been quite interesting to watch the master and his sons play out such a drama.

Certainly, though, I wouldn’t want to be one of the slaves. But, I wouldn’t want to be one of the sons either. Though I admire the elder son for his loyalty and work ethic, it sounds like he felt just as trapped by his sense of duty – just as enslaved as those who actually were property. The younger son would be a possibility … maybe …. At least he went out exploring. But then there is that whole part about sleeping with the pigs and longing for slops as his food.

The father couldn’t have had it much easier. He must have gone through all the same things the older son did when he was younger in order to have inherited; though, I suppose he could have been a rebellious youth with an understanding father. Then, he watched his two sons grow up with pride only to have his heart broken and his hopes dashed first by the one who left and then by the one who stayed.

But there is another question that is more important for us to consider as we think about this parable – this story that invites us in so that it can teach us about ourselves and about God. Where do we fit? Who do you identify with? The father, the younger son, the elder son … which one would you be?


When I was working with the African Methodist Episcopal Church in Orangeburg, South Carolina, I lived in a tiny little town called North (that’s North, South Carolina). There were about 20 houses there, and I had to drive about 30 miles on back roads to get to the site where we were building a new church building. On my morning and evening commutes, I went through a few other small towns and cruised past a bunch of those signs pointing the way to churches that were off the main road. Usually, I was going a good deal too fast either because I had slept too long or I really wanted to get back to my bed. So, I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings.

One Saturday, though, the volunteers left early, and I had the afternoon off. On my trip home, I counted those signs, curious to see how many churches the sparsely inhabited countryside supported, and though I don’t remember the exact number anymore, I do remember noticing one sign that pointed to Prodigal Holiness Church. I noticed it, I think, because the sister congregation to the one I was working with was named Prodigal AME, and I was surprised to see another church with the same name. It got me thinking.

When I got back to my little cottage, I got out my Bible just to be certain, and I confirmed my suspicions. The parable that we heard today was indeed titled “The Prodigal Son” though I have since seen some Bibles that call it “The Prodigal and his brother.” What I was wondering was why any congregation would choose to name itself after the paradigm of dissolute living.

Being a young man of 24, proud of his knowledge and loath to ask stupid questions, I was not wise or courageous enough just to ask the members of Prodigal AME or even the pastor who I had a pretty frank relationship with. So, I just decided that it must have been the repentance of the younger son that the congregations were drawn to. But, the question has stayed with me for the last 12 years, and it is a testament to my laziness and my love of the discussions the question generates that I never looked up the word prodigal to see what it means.

That changed this past January. The question came up in one of my small groups at the music and worship leaders’ conference at Laurelville, and no one in the group knew what the word meant. We had all assumed that it meant wasteful or profligate solely based on this parable which is only place any of us had ever seen it used. Yet, others had made comments that made us wonder.

One of the people in the group pulled out an iPhone and looked it up on the internet (ahh, the wonders of modern technology), and we found ourselves a bit surprised. Prodigal does mean wasteful or one who throws away money. But another meaning closer to the original root is “giving or yielding profusely; lavishly abundant; profuse,”[1] which actually a very good description of the father in the story. So, we have two prodigals: one who has spent all he has and one who gives a lavish abundance of both money and loving grace.

I don’t think that is a coincidence. As I have studied this passage, the heart of what it has to teach us is in the comparison between both of these prodigals and the older brother. On the one hand, we can see that it may be wiser to tow the line like the older brother rather than to squander all the resources we have in dissolute living. On the other hand, I’m sure we would all agree that it is the better part of grace to offer the forgiveness of the father rather than the spite of the solid and faithful son. One or the other of these two lessons have probably been the subject of every sermon we have heard on this text, and they are important. So, hold on to them.


Let’s go back for a minute. Do you remember the question I asked you earlier – the one about which character you identify with? I suspect that most of us settled on the older son. I know I always come out there. With the strong sense of fairness that is a part of middle class American culture it’s almost inevitable that we can really get in touch with the outrage he felt. Of course, it helps that we would be uncomfortable to say we feel more like the father or the younger son. If we say, “the father” it might sound like undo pride. If we say, “the prodigal son,” that could point to embarrassing character flaws.

We all have some of each of these three men within us. We all have taken the wealth that is ours to steward and squandered it in selfish pursuits at some time of other (remember that all of creation is God’s and we are just caretakers.) And we all have it within us to forgive those who have taken advantage of the love we have for them. Most of us have felt that sense of joy and celebration when something or someone we thought lost came back to us. But, the truth is that all of us here are probably much more like the older son.

We are the responsible ones, the ones who do follow our sense of duty. We don’t run off and squander our inheritance (which is definitely a good thing). We are happy when the world runs smoothly and everything goes according to our expectations. We may even feel joy in the work we do and the lives we have built. We hold our tongues as others make fools of themselves. It’s there life to live after all.

But what happens when we are faced with the unfairness of grace and forgiveness? How do we feel when someone receives things they don’t deserve – maybe even things we think we deserve?


I can’t speak for all of you here, but I know that I often find myself holding back exactly what Dave shared earlier: rage sparked by the feeling of injustice.


There is another parable which tells the story of a man who owed a great deal of money (10,000 talents or about $300,000 to us). He was brought before the king, and pleaded for mercy. The king forgave the entire debt. And as the man went out from his audience, he saw a man who owed him 100 denarii (about $6,000). He seized him by the throat and demanded payment of the debt. When he couldn’t pay, the man had him thrown in debtors prison.


When I stand in need of forgiveness, I beg for grace whether it be from God or from my family and friends. When someone asks for the same from me, I generally give it. I often give it without them asking. Yet, when I see someone else granting undeserved grace – at least from my perspective, I become (and here’s your word for the day) … I become as penurious – as stingy – as the elder brother.

What a thought … stingy with grace …. I almost seems like an oxymoron, but that’s the truth of it.

It's a hard truth. I don't like it. I don't like what it makes me, but that is the way I am. This is one time when I would rather be "lavishly abundant, profuse," and if this parable is any indication, God would rather I be prodigal with grace, in either sense, than stingy. I just don't know if I can do it … on my own.

But Paul speaks another truth: "if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation, everything old has passed away." That gives me hope – hope that I can find a way to live up to the example of my Lord, the forgiving father. This being Lent, there is no better time to start the quest all over again, to make a new beginning. Will you join me?


[1] from dictionary.com 3/13/2010.