Every summer we engage in a Spiritual Life Study for a few weeks here at Christ Church. This summer has been one of the best. Previously we have read books by C. S. Lewis, Brother Lawrence, Carlo Carretto, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Thomas á Kempis and others. But I find this summer’s study utterly fascinating. I read it almost accidentally a few months ago, and I knew immediately that it would be the subject of our study for this summer. I was captivated by it. It’s a book about a work of art, and art is not my thing, to be sure. I’m far from conversant with the art world. 

It’s a book by Henri Nouwen. Henri Nouwen was a Roman Catholic priest who died in 1996. He spent the last ten years of his life working in a community of retarded adults. The book is about a painting by Rembrandt, one of the greatest artists of all time. Rembrandt painted some 600 paintings, 300 etchings, and had about 1400 drawings attributed to his name. Rembrandt died in 1669. Not all of Rembrandt’s work is great. Charles Wesley wrote over 3000 hymns, but not all 3000 hymns are in our hymnal. 

The book is about one painting in particular, entitled “The Return of the Prodigal Son.” Rembrandt actually drew or painted this scene several times, and he did a couple of sketches. This particular one was painted just a few years before he died. 

In reality, it is a huge work. It’s 8 feet tall and 6 feet wide. It hangs in an art museum in St. Petersburg, Russia. 

The work is based on a story that Jesus told in the 15^th chapter of Luke. Many people feel that Luke 15 is the very heart of the Gospel. It contains three parables: the Parable of the Lost Sheep, the Parable of the Lost Coin, and the parable of the Lost Son. 

So what we have here is a 17^th century painter depicting a 1^st century story as seen through the eyes of a 20^th century pilgrim. 

There are six figures in the painting. Three are central. There is the younger son, whom we shall look at today. There is the older son, whom we shall look at on August 14^th. And there is the father, whom we shall look at on August 21^st. There are three other figures in the painting. They are just barely visible. One can only guess as to who they might be. Were they simply created by Rembrandt? Were they some of his family members? Were they patrons—people who paid and supported him in his artistic endeavors? 

Today is the story of the younger son. Let me share with you as we begin a rendering of the parable in an unusual style, using an alliterative “f.”

Feeling footloose and fancy-free, a feather-brained fellow forced his fond father to fork over the family finances. Fleeing far to foreign fields, he foolishly frittered his fortune, feasting fabulously with faithless friends. Fairly famishing, he fain would have filled his frame with foraged food from the fodder fragments. “Phooey, my father’s flunkies fare far fancier,” the frazzled fugitive fumed feverishly, frankly facing facts. Frustrated by failure and filled with foreboding, he fled forthwith to his family. Falling at his father’s feet, he floundered forlornly, “Father, I have flunked and fruitlessly forfeited family favor.” But the faithful father, forestalling further flinching, frantically flagged the flunkies to fetch the finest fatling and fix a feast. 

THE YOUNGER SON ASKS FOR HIS INHERITANCE

AND LEAVES 

Jesus says that the younger son asks his father for his inheritance, then leaves home. There is a sketch of this particular scene that shows the younger son as flamboyant, cocky, sensual, and a spendthrift. He’s about to mount a very fine horse. He has fancy, lavish clothes. He looks very proud. He is self-assured. He is someone who loves luxuries. 

The story of the younger son leaving home depicts a radical, startling and unprecedented moment. Such a request by a son would be unheard of in almost any culture. In the culture of Jesus’ time it was hurtful and offensive. It is parallel to wishing the father dead. The younger son is saying in effect, “Father, I can’t wait for you to die. I need my share of the inheritance now.” It is an extraordinarily cruel and insensitive moment. 

It is the time when you and I decide we want more out of life. God’s way, God’s plan, God’s design is no longer sufficient. An older teenager with whom I worked many years ago said to me one time, “I don’t want to be restricted by religious living.” This moment in the parable is sort of like her words. 

The voices of the world lure us into another life. We hear things like, “The Judeo-Christian ethic is archaic and restrictive,” or “A simple lifestyle is a waste,” or “The servant lifestyle is not the way to go.” (Such was the philosophy of Ayn Rand, whom many people were reading when I was in college.) Or someone will say, “I deserve more. I want more. I want to do it my way.” 

We decide to walk away from our spiritual roots. We try a more innovative, more exciting lifestyle. Some people do it in small ways. Some do it in more comprehensive and expansive ways. 

The word that Jesus used for the son’s lifestyle away from home is interesting. No two translations are exactly the same. I looked some of them up this week. Words like “dissolute”, “reckless”, “undisciplined”, “dissipated”.  My father always used to use the word “riotous”. “The younger son wasted his money in riotous living.” 

SOON HE HAD SPENT IT ALL 

Soon the young man had spent it all. When you let the world call you, your resources are quickly eaten away. It’s like the sign at Rex Glass on Route 19 this week that reads, “When things are coming your way, you’re in the wrong lane.” The world loves you when you have money. The world seeks you out. The world seeks your favor. But when it’s gone, so are the friends. 

The young man becomes lonely and destitute. He has nothing. He has no money, no job, no spiritual moorings, no friends. He has no one who even knows who he is. Jesus says, “So quickly, it happens.” 

There’s another drawing by Rembrandt that shows the young son working among the swine. The picture shows him as “skin and bones.” He has nothing left. Even his body is wasting away. 

Yogi Berra, the world-famous American theologian once said, “If you don’t know where you are going, you may end up someplace else.” That’s exactly what happened here! 

A little boy said to his mother one time, “My teacher thinks I’m going to be famous. She said all I have to do is mess up one more time and I’m history.” This young man messed up, and he was history. He sits with the pigs. Consider the implication of that scene in a predominantly Jewish culture. He is at “zero.” 

THEN THE GREAT LINE 

Then comes the great line in the story. Jesus says, “He came to himself.” He thought about his home. He thought about his father. He thought about his family. 

One writer says this about that line in his own return to faith. This is the way he puts it.

“And then he came to himself.” I was tremendously moved by that line. I still am, because returning to faith felt like that to me. It wasn’t something strange or bizarre or coming into some new experience. It was like coming home in the deepest kind of way. You come not to something foreign or some new discovery or special knowledge, but you come to yourself.[i] 

The younger son decides to exercise the only option open to him. He decides to return home. It won’t be the same. He won’t be the same. He knows he has no further claim on his father’s life. But it will be home. He begins to think about his father once more. 

There was an article in a Dutch magazine that had the following quotation which I found interesting. It goes like this:

I am seven years old and my Dad knows a whole lot.

I am nine years old and Dad doesn’t know quite everything.

I am twelve years old and Dad just doesn’t understand.

I am fourteen years old and Dad is so old-fashioned.

I am seventeen years old and the man is out of touch and

  out to lunch.

I am twenty-five years old and Dad’s okay.

I am thirty years old and I wonder what Dad would think

  about this. 

If you substitute the word “God” for “Dad” in that reading, you begin to get a sense of what’s going on here. 

Jesus wants you to remember where your roots are. Rembrandt depicts that moment in the art. To whom do you belong? Do you belong to God? Or do you belong to the world? There comes a time in my life when I must acknowledge that God is the only resource open to me. There comes a time when I must admit that God is the ground of my being. There comes a time when I must realize that I am nothing without the Father. 

THE HEART OF THE PAINTING 

Thus, the heart of the painting. Look at the son now in Rembrandt’s art. All the fancy dress, all the brashness, all the sensuality, all the bravado are gone. He is without his wavy locks of hair—a mark of youthful energy. He is essentially bald as a very young man. His clothes are tattered. He is dressed only in his undergarments. His feet are cut and bruised. His shoes are worn out. He is empty, and he is exhausted. 

Jesus says, “He had to hit bottom in order to find God.” Please note that’s not always necessary. But sometimes it is. Sometimes the only way home is through the collapse of life. Rembrandt himself experienced the death of a daughter, the death of two sons, and the death of his beloved wife in a 7-year period. He also went through bankruptcy, where his house and belongings were sold at auction. Rembrandt had lived high and mighty—like the younger son—and then he was brought low. 

Sometimes, in being brought low, we find our way back to God. 

AND WHAT ABOUT YOU? 

And so what about you? Do you want to get back to God? Do you want to get back to the Father? There’s a story about a very kind, loving old man, 94 years of age, who seemed to be wandering aimlessly down the sidewalk. A police officer approached him and said, “Sir, you look troubled and sad. May I help you?” The kind old gentleman responded rather sorrowfully, “I am so sad. A month ago I married a beautiful and loving woman. She’s a wonderful cook. She keeps the house in perfect order. She never forgets to give me my medicine. She cares for me so much, and I love her so much.” The police officer said, “Well, sir, that sounds like a wonderful relationship. Why are you so despondent?” The man looked off in the distance and said, “Because I can’t remember how to get home.” 

Do you need to get home? Do you need to find your way home? 

Henri Nouwen says that Rembrandt shows a fresh interiority to the son’s life. “Interiority” is not a word we often use. But it’s a good word. Finding a fresh interiority to life! Perhaps Rembrandt made that same discovery. Perhaps this painting depicts that discovery. 

Do you need some of that fresh interiority? That’s what we’re trying to help you with here at Christ Church. I want to grow your interiority. We want to grow that interiority in your children and your grandchildren. 

So that you don’t get lost in the world’s maze and attractions. So that you have a life with the Father. So that you know what your life is really about. 

Amen.