Lent 4 30th March 2025
Readings: Joshua 5: 2-12; Psalm 32; 2 Corinthians 5: 16-21; Luke 15: 11-32
Today is Mothering Sunday. It’s also been variously called Laetare Sunday, Mid-Lent Sunday, Refreshment Sunday, and in England it’s also Mother’s Day. It is a Christian festival in origin. During the sixteenth century, people returned to their mother church, the main local church or cathedral of the area, for a service to be held on Laetare Sunday. The name came from the Latin word for rejoice – the introit canticle on that day was from Isaiah 66:10 which begins “Rejoice Jerusalem” and describes Zion in distinctively feminine, maternal imagery Anyone who gathered in this way was commonly said to have gone "a-mothering", although whether this preceded the term Mothering Sunday is unclear. Cakes called “simnel”, after a Latin word for fine flour were eaten. This Sunday was a break from the strictures of Lenten fasting – so it was also called Refreshment Sunday. Clergy wore rose coloured vestments instead of the Lenten violet to represent the note of celebration. Later, in the 19th century particularly, Mothering Sunday became a day when domestic servants were given a day off to visit their mother church, usually with their own mothers and other family members. It was often the only time that whole families could gather, since on other days they were prevented by conflicting working hours. One can imagine a massive movement of people. In 1901 in England, almost 1.7 million women, representing just over 40% of the adult female working population were in domestic service. Children and young people who were "in service" (servants in richer households) were given a day off on that date so they could visit their families (or, originally, return to their "mother" church). The children would pick wildflowers along the way to place in the church or give to their mothers. The custom of simnel cake was revived. By the beginning of the First World War, the custom of keeping Mothering Sunday had tended to lapse, but the daughter of an English rural vicar created a “Mothering Sunday Movement”, and the keeping of Mothering Sunday was revived. Eventually, the religious tradition evolved into the Mothering Sunday secular tradition of giving gifts to mothers. And it became mixed up with the secular Mothers’ Day with the influx of American servicemen during the Second World War, but we should recognize its distinctively spiritual beginnings – a thanksgiving for “mother” church.
How ironic, therefore, that the Gospel for today about a father and two sons has no mention of the mother. Perhaps we can imagine the mother’s anguish at the younger son’s departure – even more so if word of his lifestyle in the foreign country gets back to her. And perhaps we can imagine her rejoicing, too, when he returns. This story is, along with the story of the Good Samaritan, one of the best known of Jesus’ parables. In Luke 15, there are three parables all about “lostness”, the lost sheep, the lost coin, and then what we usually call the prodigal son. It’s always been difficult to find an accurate title for the story – the “prodigal son” reflects a tendency to concentrate on the first part of the story to the neglect of the second half which concentrates on the father and the older brother and its unresolved ending. The “Lost Son” brings out the connection with the other parables but isn’t really adequate as it still doesn’t represent the second part of the story.
Luke, as usual, tells the story wonderfully. At its heart, the parable is, I think, about three things – grace (with which I would include humility), forgiveness, and hospitality.
The grace and humility of the father is highlighted. Grace is so difficult to define exactly - in spiritual terms it refers to the great gift of God’s free and unmerited favour shown towards us. In everyday terms it can refer to beauty or elegance, or a sense of consideration or goodwill for others. But even if we can’t define it, we seem to feel instinctively when we are in the presence of a graceful person – and the father in the story is such a person, I think. In the face of the young son’s initial graceless and arrogant conduct, he accedes to the request for the share of the property. Strictly speaking, the young son should only get his share on his father’s death – he’s saying to the father, in effect “You’re as good as dead as far as I’m concerned.” The younger son experiences a fall from grace and finds himself in humiliating, rather than humble circumstances. But he comes to himself – it’s a moment of clarity and realism about his state at least, not necessarily a moral conversion. He goes home and the father re-enters the story - full of grace. He runs out, falls on his son’s neck and kisses him. This was totally unconventional behavior for a dignified man with a sizeable estate in the Palestinian world. To leave the house to meet one of lower rank, to run, rather than to walk sedately, to display emotion extravagantly in public: all this involves serious loss of face. The father is unconcerned – he humbles himself. And all of this contrasts with the graceless conduct of the older son. The father goes out to meet him too, and speaks gracefully to him, and pleads with him. There is no doubt in the father’s mind that he, too, is a son. But the son is unmoved. In the presence of the father, we are in the presence of incredible grace and humility. Can we show the same grace and humility in our lives and relationships?
It’s a story about forgiveness and how forgiveness can transform relationships. How many times should I forgive, Simon Peter asked Jesus – seven times? Not seven times, but seventy times seven was the reply. [1] That implies an ample and over-flowing forgiveness – which we see personified in the father. He has no place for “sin” or “repentance” – he doesn’t mention the words, although the son has been thinking in these terms “Father, I have sinned….” The son doesn’t get the chance to give his prepared speech. The father speaks in terms of “lost and Found” or “dead and alive”. It’s a great example of how forgiveness can bring about restoration and transformation. Forgiveness is not easy. You will hear people say “Oh, you just forgive and forget”, which is a load of rubbish. Some things can never be forgotten. The son who was lost will always be shaped by his behavior, but he has been transformed. Perhaps to think of a modern parallel, sometimes we’ll see news reports or stories about former sports stars caught up in gambling or alcohol abuse for example, or others whose lives are full of potential, but have come off the rails and they’ve spent time in prison. But somehow, they turn things around and you read or hear of them going around schools or junior sporting clubs to share their stories and encourage younger people to live well. They’ve been shaped been shaped by their behavior, but their past stories have been transformed into a gift for others. Again, a contrast is drawn with the older brother and his unforgiving response. He does not come across as an attractive character, but his reaction is understandable. In a sense, we’re invited to feel his anger and resentment and to come to a decision – who will we be like? Will we be like the father, or like the older brother?
Finally, the story is about hospitality – extravagant and overflowing hospitality which mirrors the father’s forgiveness. As in the parables of the lost sheep and the lost coin, there is joy and celebration when whatever was lost is found. So, there is a communal celebration. Everything symbolizes the complete reinstatement of the younger son – bring out the best robe, put a ring on his finger (the ring then was a symbol of authority in the household), put sandals on his feet (members of the family wore sandals while slaves were barefoot). The calf that has been fattened is to be killed and eaten at the feast. There is music and dancing which the older brother hears. One of the servants tells him what has happened “Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf because he has got him back safe and sound.” The older brother is overcome with anger and resentment and refuses to join the celebration. We never learn whether he is later persuaded to join the party, or whether he remains outside bitterly nursing his resentment. It leaves questions for us. Where are we in the end? Inside joining in the celebration, or stuck outside, hearing the music and the dancing but too angry to go in? Can we cope with a God imaged by the father in the parable? Do we find in ourselves some stirring of the resistance of the older brother? Can we be part of a family whose hospitality is so extravagant and so understanding, indulgent even, of human failing as this?
So, sinfulness and repentance are not the main focus of the story. Sure they are there – the overt sinning of the younger brother and the anger and resentment of the older. But the emphasis is on grace, humility, forgiveness and generous, overflowing hospitality. These are all good things to reflect upon in this season of Lent and to ask ourselves “How do we relate to a God who acts so generously like this?”
[1] Matthew 18:21-22
© The Rev’d WD Crossman