The Director of Christian Education was reading this story of the
Prodigal Son to her class, clearly emphasizing the resentment the
older brother expressed at the return of his brother. When she was
finished telling the story, she asked the class, "Now who was really
sad that the prodigal son had come home?" After a few minutes of
silence, one little boy raised his hand and confidently stated, "The
fatted calf." Well, that may be true but we're not going to talk about
the fatted calf this morning. Istead, we are going to talk about the
elder brother.
Sir Noel Patton was a renowned artist. He was known for his exquisite
and beautiful paintings of birds and flowers and children at play. But
in each of his paintings he would always put in the very corner some
grotesque object, such as a serpent, or an eel. This is what Christ
the master painter has done with this portrait. We see this loving
scene of the father and the prodigal in one another's embrace. But in
the very corner of the painting we see the grotesque face of the elder
as he is watching what is happening.
You see, Christ is trying to tell us that there are really two
prodigals in this story. There is the sin of the younger son is that
plain for all to see. Then there is the sin of the elder brother. His
sins are more subtle but nonetheless real. His is the sin of
resentment.
Some say the mind is like a computer. When the elder brother heard
about the party planned for his brother, the prodigal son, that did
not compute. After all, his younger had blown it. He had wasted his
inheritance chasing prostitutes, embarrassed the family name, hurt the
family business. When his younger brother returned home, the elder
brother resented the way his younger brother was received. Why did the
elder brother take offense? It was the party that was so offensive.
The older brother has a point, of course. Let the penitent come home.
Both Judaism and Christianity provide for the return of sinners, but
to bread and water, not to the fatted calf; to sackcloth, not a new
robe; to ashes, not jewelry; to kneeling, not dancing; to tears, not
merriment. The elder brother resented that party. His resentment
created a war against his brother in his mind.
The history of resentment, says Leo Madow, professor at the Medical
College of Pennsylvania, is the history of Humankind. If we really
feel steamed about something (as we rightly express it), we can go
from zero pressure to over 500 lbs. per square inch within a short
time. The target can be a friend, a spouse, a child, a neighbor, a
co-worker—even the person who promised to fix the vacuum cleaner. It
can be a 43-year-old woman we know of, with two children, whose
husband left her for another woman, and now she faces the full
financial support of the family. She's resentful. Or a woman who
resents her husband's boss and company so much it is destroying what
could be one of the better homes around. Or a person with a chronic
illness, now facing the prospect their condition will never get
better. Or a person nearing retirement, watching their retirement go
up in smoke because of bad investments by the fund trustees. Or a high
school student who didn't make the team ... or cheerleader ... or
first chair band ... or the leading role in the school play.
Resentment. You can't keep a lid on it.
Resentment pops up early in the Bible—with the two sons of Adam and
Eve. Cain and Abel are a prototype of the two brothers in today's
parable. Cain resented Abel because Abel received more favorable
treatment. His offering was acceptable to the Lord and Cain's wasn't.
Resentment was kindled (as the Bible puts it) in Cain, until it
exploded and he summoned his brother out into a field and killed him.
Murder is the ultimate destructive manifestation of resentment.
Robert A. Schuller, young Robert, tells of getting into an argument
with his older sister when he was eight. "You're a pig!" he screamed
when she refused to give him one of his own toys. Their dad,
television preacher Robert H. Schuller, heard what was going on. He
came into the room and said to young Bob, "Robert, don't you ever call
your sister a pig again."
"But, Dad, she is!" he objected.
"If you call her a pig, Robert, you're calling me a pig, too!" said
the older Schuller. Young Bob had to think about that for a while. He
certainly didn't think his dad was a pig. His father could tell that
he didn't fully understand what he was saying. "Robert, if your sister
is a pig, then I'm a pig. She is my child! I can't have a pig for a
child unless I'm a pig. When you insult your sister, you're insulting
me, too. When you mock or belittle yourself, you're doing the same
thing to me. You're my son.
"The same thing is true for you and God or for your brothers and
sisters in the human race and God. When you belittle yourself, you're
belittling God. When you insult your neighbor, you're insulting God."
Young Robert said he never forgot that lesson.
It's a lesson all of us need to learn. Can't we all get along? We can
if each of us will open our hearts to the love of Jesus Christ.
(ChristianGlobe Illustrations, Robert A. Schuller, Getting through
What Your Going Through, quoted by King Duncan, ChristianGlobe
Networks, Inc.)
Pete Richards was a lonely and bitter man. His life had started out in
such a promising way. Despite his growing up in a poor family in New
York City, Pete Richards was a shining star on the basketball court.
God had given him a gift that Pete used to get a full scholarship to a
big eastern university. While in college, Pete Richards not only made
his team a winner, but he established himself as a fine student with a
very promising career ahead of him in business.
And then came Viet Nam. Because Pete had been in the ROTC in college,
he graduated with a Second Lieutenant's commission, and after just six
months of additional training, Pete found himself in the jungles of
Viet Nam responsible for a rifle company. One night while on patrol,
Pete Richards' dreams were suddenly shattered by a land mine.
Miraculously, he survived, but it meant the loss of both legs, and
nearly 18 months in a veteran's hospital.
For Pete Richards, there would be no more basketball, no promising
career on Wall Street, and as far as he could see, no more life worth
living. He became withdrawn from even his family and friends, and it
was clear that each day, the bitterness in his soul was taking his
life.
Too proud to take the assistance offered to him by his family, Pete
became one of the hundreds of faceless men on the streets of New York
asking passersby for a handout. He had found a great spot just outside
the steps leading into St. Thomas' Episcopal Church on Fifth Avenue.
After all, he reasoned, those rich churchgoers owe me something for my
time in Viet Nam.
It was on a day when Pete was feeling particularly sorry for himself,
that a young man about Pete's age stopped by his wheelchair, and said,
"Hi! Mind if I sit down by you for a while?" "It's a free country,"
said Pete, "suit yourself." The stranger introduced himself as Dan
Ferris, and Pete was startled when he took out a thermos of coffee and
some deli sandwiches, and offered them to the hapless man in the
wheelchair. At first, Pete refused the kindness, but he was really
hungry, and the food mellowed him so that he and Dan began to talk.
Pete actually enjoyed their conversation about growing up in the City,
their experiences in college, and the nightmare they shared in Viet
Nam.
The next day, Dan was back with more sandwiches and coffee. Slowly, he
began to gain Pete's confidence, and their meeting by the steps of the
church became a daily ritual. One day, Dan told Pete about a friend of
his who was starting a course to train people to use computers. He
asked if Pete would be interested. At first, Pete's old bitterness and
resentment put up a wall of resistance, but Dan's loving insistence
finally won out. The next day, Dan came to Pete's single room, helped
him get shaved and dressed, and they set off for the computer school.
Pete Richards turned out to be a computer genius, and today he lives a
fruitful and productive life. No matter where he goes, Pete never
tires of telling anyone who will listen about a man he met on Fifth
Avenue whose love gave him back his life. "(56 Stories For Preaching,
CSS Publishing, Lima, Ohio, 1993, 1-5567-3636-3)
In this parable, Christ challenges us to reach out to those who are
lost in the sin of resentment. And if we should find ourselves
torturing ourselves with resentment like the elder brother in the
parable, Christ challenges us to LET IT GO.
