March 21, 2004

Mindekirken, March 21, 2004
Pastor Jens Arne Dale

Luke 15.1-3 and 11-32

Henri Nouwen has written a book about his encounter with Rembrandt’s painting The Return of the Prodigal Son. The picture is on display at the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg, Russia. The sermon today is built upon Nouwen’s book.

When Rembrandt was 30 years old, he painted himself, together with his wife Saskia, as the prodigal son in a brothel. Drunk, with a half opened mouth and eyes hungry for sex, he looks with despise on the one who looks at the portrait as if he would say: See how much fun we’re having? With his right hand, he raises a glass; his left hand rests on the lower part of the girl’s back. The sight is filled with lust and youthful arrogance.

Rembrandt experienced success, wealth and popularity. But as the years went by, adversity came along. He lost three children. His wife also died. His artistic recognition declined. Economically he got into such big trouble that his creditors finally took over all his assets, including most of what today are known as immortal Rembrandts.

The great master, at the end of his life, painted the picture we consider today. Here is a story of a life similar to Rembrandt’s own. The proud young man has become a beggar who falls at the knees of his father, asking for mercy. Is it the painter’s own painful acknowledgement of surrender we recognize in the prodigal son?

There was an unheard-of arrogance in the son’s demand: Give me my share of the estate. It’s as if he demands the father’s death. It’s a disrespectful betrayal of all of the values of the family. Even so, the son got it as he wanted. What does that tell us about God? God doesn’t force anyone. He lets us choose our own way of life. He gives us the freedom of choice. The only thing he claims for himself is the right to wait. The face of the father tells about tears that have been wept, days and years of longing and pain. In the picture, the son has returned. His head is bald like a prisoner who has a number instead of a name.

The lively curly hair that Rembrandt painted on his youthful portrait is gone. The honor is lost. The son is falling down at the feet of his father as a beggar. His filthy tunic covers a worn out body. His power is exhausted. The money is gone. His shoes are worn out and useless. His left foot has a scar. The way home has been long and painful. Now is the hour of accounting and the moment of truth.

One might have expected that the son would have been regarded as lost, as he himself regarded his father lost. But the picture shows something else. The divine light over the face of the father is God’s own. Here the love of God is mirrored - the love that never gives up on any human being. Rembrandt displays the moment when the son receives forgiveness. It’s composed with a peace without end.

The movement between the father and the son doesn’t describe something which is going on, but something which lasts forever. Here we see grace with the power to change death to life. We can see a sword in the son’s belt. Did it originate from the father? Was this a last proof of the relationship, for which he no longer dared to ask? I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired men. Also the human who has said farewell to God is created in his image. Our fall and sin don’t cancel our worthiness as God’s creation.

The father’s coat is wide and open, like a tent where the poor beggar may find rest. The red color shines as the love that envelops the son. The father is almost blind. Even so, the light of his face says: I see you. I bless you. I forgive you, love you. Every small detail in the figure of the father, his facial expression, his posture and most of all, his hands, witness about the divine love to men. Here ‘s the forgiveness that envelops sin and gives back what was lost. It is as if the hands of the father on the shoulders of the son express the inner vision of the father. He sees wide and broad. It’s a sight that understands.

The left hand is strong and muscular. The fingers are spread and cover a large part of the shoulders and the back. The thumb tells that he not only touches, but holds. The grip is gentle, but firm. It’s the hand of a father. The right hand is quite different. It neither grips nor holds. It’s sophisticated, soft and tender. The fingers are tight, elegant. The hand will touch, help and comfort. It’s the hand of a mother.

He holds. She cares. God is the best that both a father and a mother may ever be for their child. As a mother cares for her son, I acre for you, says the prophet, Isaiah 66.13.

What about the oldest son? He who wouldn’t join in the celebration and the joy at home. It might be that Rembrandt has had the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector in the temple in mind when he painted the two persons at the right in the picture, Luke 18.9-14. The tax collector beat his breast and said: God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

The Pharisee was arrogant and praised God because he was so good. The Pharisee simply couldn’t accept that Jesus enveloped sinners and tax collectors. For them, God’s grace was a closed world. They fulfilled every obligation, and thought God would pay as deserved. Jesus proclaimed that God pays the undeserving. It was the unlimited gracious God and Father who became too much for them. Such was not their God.

The son who had stayed at home became only a spectator of the return of the prodigal son. Here’s no brother opening his arms. Just the opposite. He rejects his returning brother and he calls the filthy beggar your son, not my brother. He has lived up to his father’s expectations, been obedient and fulfilled his obligations. He’s the picture of the one who would like to please everyone. But inside he’s filled with envy and bitterness. You never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends... He accuses his father for being too generous. That’s not fair. Here is anger and jealousy.

There are two lost sons in this parable. The son who came home, and the son who never had understood what he had there at his home. The father loves them both. The tragedy of the son, who had been at home, was that he never had understood what his father said, You are always with me, and everything I have is yours. He was poor even though he had everything. Rembrandt has painted the son with an expression that discloses his inner struggle. Still, he might humble himself, become one with the love that God has for all his children.

Maybe we are related to the son who stayed home. Maybe we have tried to please everyone; we have taken our turn at church, family and society. But we have stiffened in our attitudes and lost our joy in our faith. The father loves both of his sons. Where are we? Maybe we need to come home from a wild life. There are some open arms, and God’s fatherly heart beats for us. Maybe we need to join the celebration. Go inside where joy, singing and dancing are. Have we forgotten how dearly even we are loved by God?

Glory be to God, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, one true God, now and forever. Amen.

The Norwegian Lutheran Memorial Church ·  924 E. 21st St, Minneapolis, MN 55404-2952 ·  (612)874-0716