The Story Of The Scandalized Neighbors
Sermon
THE GREATEST WONDER OF ALL
Sermons for Lent and Easter
I don't know what this world is coming to. It seems to me that parents don't do as good a job raising their kids as they used to. Consider my neighbor. His punk kid ran off with a wad of money last year. A couple of days ago he came back looking like death warmed over and what are they doing? They're throwing a party for him. From what I've heard they are going to spend a bundle on it. Sounds like the affair will be bigger than a wedding bash. If you ask me it's scandalous, celebrating as though he was a wonderful, long lost loved one returned. It is tough raising kids these days and they are setting a poor example for the rest of us. But let me tell the story from the beginning.
My name is Aaron. I live on a farm across the road from Eli and Rachel Kahal. They're a devout Jewish couple, no doubt about it, but from my point of view they have always been too lax on discipline, especially when it came to their youngest son, Judah. He was trouble from the day he was born. I've often wondered how a rascal like that could come from such a good family. He would rob me of figs, scare my sheep - you know, all the nasty little things young boys do to aggravate people. Quite a contrast from his brother Amos. Now he is a decent fellow; works hard, goes to the synagogue regularly, respects his parents and his neighbors! There ought to be more kids like him.
In any case, it didn't surprise me when I heard that young Judah had asked his father for the inheritance due him so he could leave town. Gossip has it that Eli was so stunned that he didn't even try to talk the boy out of it. I know what I would do if one of my sons came up to me and said, by implication, "I wish you were dead so I could get my hands on the inheritance." The thought of it would break a mother's heart! I would have given the kid nothing but a swift kick and tossed him out on his ear.
Maybe you don't know that in our culture when a son asked for his inheritance he was asking to be cut off from his family forever. In fact, the family would grieve as though he had died and, from that point on, he would always be referred to in the past tense. It wasn't merely a matter of running away from home.
Contrary to public opinion, I'm sure Eli tried to talk him out of it even though Judah did very little around the farm and was more trouble than help. But it was no use, the lad was probably tired of being hassled by everyone so, determined to free himself from the last ties to common sense, he took off for the big city.
It was the best thing that ever happened to the rumor mill in our community! I'll tell you the whole affair set tongues to wagging like you wouldn't believe, and it got even better. The tales which came back to our little town whenever anyone went to the big city were staggering. It seems Judah made quite a name for himself as a big spender. BMWs, wild parties, lots of women, booze and drugs. Some of the more religious people were sure he would die of AIDS. Of course none of us knew how much of it was true, but it sure wasn't hard to believe. In any case, it was clear that young Judah, out there in the "far country" as we called it, had not only turned his back on his family but that he had forsaken all moral values as well.
It was hard on the whole family but his father Eli was particularly pathetic. Often he would go out to the gate and, with haggard face and longing eyes, strain to see some sign of that lost son of his coming down the road. He tried hard to hide the tears which would well up inside him but everyone knew of the anguish, even if they could not understand. As you might guess, resentment in our town continued to grow toward the boy. We all agreed that Eli and Rachel were much better off without Judah. At least they could sleep at night, not having to wonder where he was or what he was doing, or if they would have to go to the hospital or the jail to pick him up, as they so often did when he lived at home.
Judah, however, was not better off without his family. As I heard the story, It hadn't taken him long to run through his inheritance, so he had to get a job. Unfortunately he hadn't felt it important to learn a trade so there wasn't much he could do. Even worse, the economy took a dive and suddenly he found himself without cash, without housing, without a job and without food. His old friends out there in the "far country" didn't want anything to do with him. You can tolerate a leech for only so long. He had tried to buy friends with his money but had only purchased their scorn.
Finally Judah found a farmer and offered to watch over his pigs. Now that may not seem particularly strange to you, but it sure sent shock waves through our little town when we heard of it. Just think! tending pigs, the most unclean of all animals. To our Jewish way of thinking he had finally sunk into the gutter. Not only had he turned his back on his family and renounced all moral values, now he had rejected God and cut himself off from his Hebrew heritage. He brought shame upon us all!
Let me try to put it in terms you can understand. How would you react if a boy who came from a respected family of your church denied his Christianity, his American citizenship and his cultural heritage all in one act? I tell you, there were many who were so angered by Judah's actions that they even stopped feeling sorry for his parents, as much as they liked them.
It is a fact of life, once you've turned away from everything that speaks of commitment and love, once you have abandoned all that is good and decent, once you have denied all that is sacred and holy, life is going to cave in on you. It did for Judah. Out there tending the swine he got so hungry he was willing to eat pigslop. The only good thing is that without money he was unable to buy booze or drugs to mess up his mind. So while he sat there sick of body, sick at heart and sick of soul, he began to think.
Being a smart boy, it eventually dawned on him that his father's servants were warm while he was cold, they were feasting on food while he was starving to death. They enjoyed the sweetness of fellowship on the family farm while he suffered the pain of loneliness.
He must have wrestled with the method he would use to get himself back onto his father's farm. He had rejected everything his parents held dear, but I would guess, knowing this father had always been soft of heart and easily persuaded, he decided to say, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you."
Now let me interject. We Jews have often, and for good reason, been accused of exaggerating. But I tell you, we are also gifted at understatement. That young scoundrel had not merely sinned against heaven and against Eli, he had violated every law and abused every relationship he ever had. In truth, he had offended everyone. Everyone!
"Father," he said, I suppose because it would really tug on Eli's heartstrings, "I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son." Worthy! He had no worth! He had long ago turned his back on sonship and asked to be considered as a dead man. He had trampled on everything his father held in reverence. How dare he appeal to his father's sensibilities in that way. I suppose he dared because he was desperate, and he knew his father, he knew his father's love, his hopes and dreams and so he used Eli's strength against him in this way.
"Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me as one of your hired servants." It was not a long speech, easily rehearsed and remembered as he stumbled his way back to the community and family he had so blithely renounced. I'm sure he knew it would be effective. He must have smiled and thought, "Tonight I will eat and find rest in the warmth and comfort of the servants' quarters."
You know what happened next. That fool father was out there looking for him, as was his custom every day. Only this day was different. This day he saw against the horizon the stooped form of a man hobbling down the road. Instinctively he sensed it was his son and he ran to him, the pain in his heart was transformed into compassion. Judah stopped. He wanted to run but he was frozen with fear. You see, he wasn't sure of the emotional state of the old man who ran toward him. He was comforted a bit by the fact that he still remembered his "speech." But before he could utter the words, Eli embraced him and kissed him. Feeling the strong heartbeat of his father's love, Judah collapsed into his arms and their tears intermingled in the absolution of grace.
Still Judah felt a need to say it, to give his speech, and so he blurted out his well-worn words, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son." But the father was past needing a confession, he cut him off, saying, "Quickly, bring out a robe - the finest one - and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found."
Let me tell you, the townsfolk did not share the joy of Eli and Rachel, not at all. We simply did not believe that Judah should have been bestowed with all the signs of sonship and authority, at least not without some kind of probationary period. I speak for all of them when I say this is the way that the homecoming should have gone:
Then Eli saw the wayward boy coming and waited for him to get to the gate of the family home. He stood there with his hands on his hips glaring at Judah until he withered before him and dared not say a word. So the father was the first to speak. "I knew you would come crawling back. Do you have any idea of what you have done to us, your mother and me? You have brought shame on us all. You don't even deserve to stand there. But, because I am a compassionate man, your mother and I have decided to take you back with a couple of provisions. First, you will go make sacrifice for your sins and you will attend worship every Sabbath without fail. You will, without complaint, follow the rules of our home. It's about time you started leading a decent life. Finally, your brother Amos is now in charge of the farm. You do what he tells you or out you go. Do you understand?"
Judah, rightly reprimanded, meekly agreed to the demands and settled down to live a quiet, productive, God-fearing life from that day forward. That's the way I think it should have been: no party, no celebration, no big deal. That just makes sense.
But there was a party, and such a party as my wife and I had never seen before. Since we had been life-long neighbors we felt obligated to attend. Besides we were more than a little curious about the wayward boy and what he had been up to. We felt sorry for Judah's brother Amos, because in our memory we could never think of a time when Eli and Rachel had done anything like this for him, and he was such a nice young man, too. We did not blame Amos for not showing up. In fact, there were quite a number of people from our community who were so scandalized by the whole affair that they refused to attend, in spite of their affection for Rachel and Eli.
We were surprised, however, to meet Judah. Here was no brash young man; gone were the arrogant and flippant airs to which we had become accustomed. He appeared to be a person who was at peace with himself and there glowed from his eyes a warmth and sincerity which impressed even me. Humble he went about the room and, with tears in his eyes, apologized for what he had done. I was thunderstruck, and must admit that I was touched by his display of courage and humility.
I had never witnessed the conversion of a person before, so I was unprepared for its power and beauty. Whatever else that evening meant for those who attended, it certainly captured the wonder, joy and grace of the remarkable change in Judah's life. Now I feel badly that Amos did not become a part of it.
One thing still gnaws at me. While it is difficult for me to approve of the way Eli received back his rebellious son, I am convinced that it was not the tragedy in the far country that changed Judah, it was the tenacious and shameless love of Eli and Rachel. The undeserved love of his parents gave Judah the strength, security and desire to return and, in turn, transfigured his life. Scandalized as I am by such an unmerited and lavish outpouring of affection and acceptance, if I had in foolishness followed the path into the far country, I would want a father - no, I would need a father like Eli. Looking at him that night I envied him for I could sense that he had experienced more joy in his heart that day than I had known in my entire life. Then it occurred to me, "Surely that is why there is so much joy in heaven when a sinner repents and why the Heavenly Father's heart overflows in ecstasy each time that you or I return."
My name is Aaron. I live on a farm across the road from Eli and Rachel Kahal. They're a devout Jewish couple, no doubt about it, but from my point of view they have always been too lax on discipline, especially when it came to their youngest son, Judah. He was trouble from the day he was born. I've often wondered how a rascal like that could come from such a good family. He would rob me of figs, scare my sheep - you know, all the nasty little things young boys do to aggravate people. Quite a contrast from his brother Amos. Now he is a decent fellow; works hard, goes to the synagogue regularly, respects his parents and his neighbors! There ought to be more kids like him.
In any case, it didn't surprise me when I heard that young Judah had asked his father for the inheritance due him so he could leave town. Gossip has it that Eli was so stunned that he didn't even try to talk the boy out of it. I know what I would do if one of my sons came up to me and said, by implication, "I wish you were dead so I could get my hands on the inheritance." The thought of it would break a mother's heart! I would have given the kid nothing but a swift kick and tossed him out on his ear.
Maybe you don't know that in our culture when a son asked for his inheritance he was asking to be cut off from his family forever. In fact, the family would grieve as though he had died and, from that point on, he would always be referred to in the past tense. It wasn't merely a matter of running away from home.
Contrary to public opinion, I'm sure Eli tried to talk him out of it even though Judah did very little around the farm and was more trouble than help. But it was no use, the lad was probably tired of being hassled by everyone so, determined to free himself from the last ties to common sense, he took off for the big city.
It was the best thing that ever happened to the rumor mill in our community! I'll tell you the whole affair set tongues to wagging like you wouldn't believe, and it got even better. The tales which came back to our little town whenever anyone went to the big city were staggering. It seems Judah made quite a name for himself as a big spender. BMWs, wild parties, lots of women, booze and drugs. Some of the more religious people were sure he would die of AIDS. Of course none of us knew how much of it was true, but it sure wasn't hard to believe. In any case, it was clear that young Judah, out there in the "far country" as we called it, had not only turned his back on his family but that he had forsaken all moral values as well.
It was hard on the whole family but his father Eli was particularly pathetic. Often he would go out to the gate and, with haggard face and longing eyes, strain to see some sign of that lost son of his coming down the road. He tried hard to hide the tears which would well up inside him but everyone knew of the anguish, even if they could not understand. As you might guess, resentment in our town continued to grow toward the boy. We all agreed that Eli and Rachel were much better off without Judah. At least they could sleep at night, not having to wonder where he was or what he was doing, or if they would have to go to the hospital or the jail to pick him up, as they so often did when he lived at home.
Judah, however, was not better off without his family. As I heard the story, It hadn't taken him long to run through his inheritance, so he had to get a job. Unfortunately he hadn't felt it important to learn a trade so there wasn't much he could do. Even worse, the economy took a dive and suddenly he found himself without cash, without housing, without a job and without food. His old friends out there in the "far country" didn't want anything to do with him. You can tolerate a leech for only so long. He had tried to buy friends with his money but had only purchased their scorn.
Finally Judah found a farmer and offered to watch over his pigs. Now that may not seem particularly strange to you, but it sure sent shock waves through our little town when we heard of it. Just think! tending pigs, the most unclean of all animals. To our Jewish way of thinking he had finally sunk into the gutter. Not only had he turned his back on his family and renounced all moral values, now he had rejected God and cut himself off from his Hebrew heritage. He brought shame upon us all!
Let me try to put it in terms you can understand. How would you react if a boy who came from a respected family of your church denied his Christianity, his American citizenship and his cultural heritage all in one act? I tell you, there were many who were so angered by Judah's actions that they even stopped feeling sorry for his parents, as much as they liked them.
It is a fact of life, once you've turned away from everything that speaks of commitment and love, once you have abandoned all that is good and decent, once you have denied all that is sacred and holy, life is going to cave in on you. It did for Judah. Out there tending the swine he got so hungry he was willing to eat pigslop. The only good thing is that without money he was unable to buy booze or drugs to mess up his mind. So while he sat there sick of body, sick at heart and sick of soul, he began to think.
Being a smart boy, it eventually dawned on him that his father's servants were warm while he was cold, they were feasting on food while he was starving to death. They enjoyed the sweetness of fellowship on the family farm while he suffered the pain of loneliness.
He must have wrestled with the method he would use to get himself back onto his father's farm. He had rejected everything his parents held dear, but I would guess, knowing this father had always been soft of heart and easily persuaded, he decided to say, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you."
Now let me interject. We Jews have often, and for good reason, been accused of exaggerating. But I tell you, we are also gifted at understatement. That young scoundrel had not merely sinned against heaven and against Eli, he had violated every law and abused every relationship he ever had. In truth, he had offended everyone. Everyone!
"Father," he said, I suppose because it would really tug on Eli's heartstrings, "I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son." Worthy! He had no worth! He had long ago turned his back on sonship and asked to be considered as a dead man. He had trampled on everything his father held in reverence. How dare he appeal to his father's sensibilities in that way. I suppose he dared because he was desperate, and he knew his father, he knew his father's love, his hopes and dreams and so he used Eli's strength against him in this way.
"Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me as one of your hired servants." It was not a long speech, easily rehearsed and remembered as he stumbled his way back to the community and family he had so blithely renounced. I'm sure he knew it would be effective. He must have smiled and thought, "Tonight I will eat and find rest in the warmth and comfort of the servants' quarters."
You know what happened next. That fool father was out there looking for him, as was his custom every day. Only this day was different. This day he saw against the horizon the stooped form of a man hobbling down the road. Instinctively he sensed it was his son and he ran to him, the pain in his heart was transformed into compassion. Judah stopped. He wanted to run but he was frozen with fear. You see, he wasn't sure of the emotional state of the old man who ran toward him. He was comforted a bit by the fact that he still remembered his "speech." But before he could utter the words, Eli embraced him and kissed him. Feeling the strong heartbeat of his father's love, Judah collapsed into his arms and their tears intermingled in the absolution of grace.
Still Judah felt a need to say it, to give his speech, and so he blurted out his well-worn words, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son." But the father was past needing a confession, he cut him off, saying, "Quickly, bring out a robe - the finest one - and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found."
Let me tell you, the townsfolk did not share the joy of Eli and Rachel, not at all. We simply did not believe that Judah should have been bestowed with all the signs of sonship and authority, at least not without some kind of probationary period. I speak for all of them when I say this is the way that the homecoming should have gone:
Then Eli saw the wayward boy coming and waited for him to get to the gate of the family home. He stood there with his hands on his hips glaring at Judah until he withered before him and dared not say a word. So the father was the first to speak. "I knew you would come crawling back. Do you have any idea of what you have done to us, your mother and me? You have brought shame on us all. You don't even deserve to stand there. But, because I am a compassionate man, your mother and I have decided to take you back with a couple of provisions. First, you will go make sacrifice for your sins and you will attend worship every Sabbath without fail. You will, without complaint, follow the rules of our home. It's about time you started leading a decent life. Finally, your brother Amos is now in charge of the farm. You do what he tells you or out you go. Do you understand?"
Judah, rightly reprimanded, meekly agreed to the demands and settled down to live a quiet, productive, God-fearing life from that day forward. That's the way I think it should have been: no party, no celebration, no big deal. That just makes sense.
But there was a party, and such a party as my wife and I had never seen before. Since we had been life-long neighbors we felt obligated to attend. Besides we were more than a little curious about the wayward boy and what he had been up to. We felt sorry for Judah's brother Amos, because in our memory we could never think of a time when Eli and Rachel had done anything like this for him, and he was such a nice young man, too. We did not blame Amos for not showing up. In fact, there were quite a number of people from our community who were so scandalized by the whole affair that they refused to attend, in spite of their affection for Rachel and Eli.
We were surprised, however, to meet Judah. Here was no brash young man; gone were the arrogant and flippant airs to which we had become accustomed. He appeared to be a person who was at peace with himself and there glowed from his eyes a warmth and sincerity which impressed even me. Humble he went about the room and, with tears in his eyes, apologized for what he had done. I was thunderstruck, and must admit that I was touched by his display of courage and humility.
I had never witnessed the conversion of a person before, so I was unprepared for its power and beauty. Whatever else that evening meant for those who attended, it certainly captured the wonder, joy and grace of the remarkable change in Judah's life. Now I feel badly that Amos did not become a part of it.
One thing still gnaws at me. While it is difficult for me to approve of the way Eli received back his rebellious son, I am convinced that it was not the tragedy in the far country that changed Judah, it was the tenacious and shameless love of Eli and Rachel. The undeserved love of his parents gave Judah the strength, security and desire to return and, in turn, transfigured his life. Scandalized as I am by such an unmerited and lavish outpouring of affection and acceptance, if I had in foolishness followed the path into the far country, I would want a father - no, I would need a father like Eli. Looking at him that night I envied him for I could sense that he had experienced more joy in his heart that day than I had known in my entire life. Then it occurred to me, "Surely that is why there is so much joy in heaven when a sinner repents and why the Heavenly Father's heart overflows in ecstasy each time that you or I return."
