This may seem like a silly question, but have any of you put in a hard day’s work?  I mean the kind of hard work that really makes you sweat.  The kind of hard work that makes muscles sore you never even knew you had?  Have any of you worked so hard that your back is all in knots and you can’t even stand up straight?  I have worked this hard my entire life.  If you look at my hands you can see the calluses and blisters from hours in the fields.  I have aged too quickly and look twice as old as I should.

In fact, I have worked doubly hard as I have just described, since my brother left.  He unjustly took what was not his own, and left me to do his work on top of mine.  I am sure that he is off somewhere in a land of filth, spending away my father’s hard earned inheritance.  He probably doesn’t even care about his family or recognize his sin.  Does he ever think of how he humiliated my father or has made my burden twice as heavy? 
         
But my life doesn’t revolve around work.  No, my life is defined by hunger.  The kind of hunger that gnaws away at your stomach and makes you weak.  I have been so incredibly hungry working in the fields that I am sometimes jealous of my brother.  Where he is, maybe he doesn’t have to work for his food, maybe his life is easy.  The kind of hunger that I experience every day enables me to smell food cooking a long way away.  One night, after another grueling and exhausting day in the field, I smelled something unfamiliar coming from my father’s home.  It was that smell of freshly baking bread.  The aroma was so overwhelming I could almost taste the oil and bread melting in my mouth.  And then, as I came closer, I could smell the meat.  I pictured in my mind a big old steak just waiting for me.  My hunger slowly abated as my mind feasted on the images of such a meal.
         
And as I got even closer, I could hear some music.  This was the most charming sound while coming in from the fields.  After listening to hoe and ox for hours upon hours, the sound of tambourine and lyre was sweet melody to my ears.  I called one of my father’s servants and asked what the feast was for.  For whom are we celebrating?  What great and noble person has arrived that deserves such a banquet?  Surely this must be a joyous occasion! 
         
But as the servant told me who had just arrived my heart grew cold and my stomach dropped.  The smell of sweet bread and meat become pungent and nauseating.  The sound of music went ringing through my ears with horrible reverberations.  My sight grew dark, and my demeanor became grim. 
         
My father came outside to see me and I was surprised at what I saw.  He looked happier than he had since my brother left.  His whole face seemed to be one big grin.  I could smell wine on his breath and see bread crumbs on his bread.  He had that giddy look on his face that reminded me of a schoolboy after his first kiss.  I was shocked, perplexed, and fuming all at the same time.  This prodigal son of his has come back and they are celebrating?!  “Dad,” I said, “put him into the fields where he belongs.  He is worthless, stupid, and sinful.  Here, I have done everything you have ever asked of me, and where is my feast?!”  But, I did not understand my father’s reply.  My whole body was too full of hate to understand his message of love. 
         
How could anyone in my position partake in such a feast?  How could I sit down with such a despicable sinner and break bread with him?  The way I understand it, one has to work and earn what he deserves.  How could anything be so freely given, especially my father’s love?
         
Even though the Gospel lesson ends there, the story continues on.  We the Church, are the sons in the story.  This parable was not just told long ago to illustrate a point about the kingdom of heaven.  This narrative is repeated time and time again in our lives and throughout the world.  The father gave the younger brother pure forgiveness.  It’s the type of forgiveness that puts away all pain and heals any wounds.   It’s when we see Jew forgive Nazi or Hutu forgive Tutsi.  On the other hand, the older brother has always had everything the Father has.  It’s when somebody finds their spiritual gifts or when a church leader works long and hard for their Father in heaven.    
         
When we hear this story, I think too many of us put ourselves into the place of the younger brother, and why not?  He’s the one who gets all the glory.  He gets the story named after him, the Father is waiting for him, and he even gets a feast of biblical proportions. 
         
However, much of the time, and more often than we would like to admit, we are the older brother.  The Church has been given the gifts of the Father but often times overlooks them.  For instance, we have been blessed with two thousand years of heritage, a wealth of knowledge, and dedicated leaders.  But at the same time we still manage to fight and quarrel over the small issues.   In writing this sermon, I have discovered that I am an older brother myself.  That’s why I choose to take on his character.  For me, it is much easier to pretend that I can have sole ownership of God or that I more deserving than others in this world.  But I believe that before I have been the younger brother.  Going through the sacramental rite of confession found in our prayer book just two weeks ago I was taught this lesson.  During my time with the priest during confession, I felt like the younger brother.  I was running back to God hoping that He would accept me.  But as the story tells us, He was already looking for me from a long way off. 
           
In this time of Lent, God calls us to grow closer with Him through our spiritual disciplines and devotions.  Tonight, I implore each one of you to do what I did as I wrote this sermon; that is, a little self-reflection.  I know this can be daunting task, and you may be scared at what you discover.  You never know what you will find within yourself, and you won’t always like what you find.  And remember it’s never too early to get started on this exercise.  You’re getting older every day.  I want you to go ahead with it, no matter where you are in your spiritual journey, and discover within yourself which brother you are.  I can only make one guarantee about this exercise.  You will grow closer to God.  As you look back on your life you will see when you have been there with God and haven’t recognized it and when you have taken His gifts and ran far away into a land of barren waste.  This may be startling, but always revealing and enriching. 
        
But the lesson doesn’t stop here.  After discovering which brother you are, you may ask yourself how to reconcile yourself with God.  So I have three answers.  First, come to this altar prepared for you, and taste of this heavenly banquet.  Understand that this bread and wine is for you, and was given for you.  Second, confess your sins to God.  If this takes the form of reconciliation of a penitent found in our prayer book, more power to you.  It takes a lot of guts to name your sins out loud.  However, if this just means spending a long time in the quiet with God, do that.  Finally, and most importantly, pray.  Pray that you recognize and use the gifts that the Father has so freely given.  Pray not only for yourself, but also for all the younger and older brothers within the Body of Christ.

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