Lent 4
March 18, 2007

Pigs and Parties
by Christina Berry



Luke 15: 1-3, 11b-32



You know, my brothers have always been rivals.

Not that they need to be.

My father loves them both, which is obvious if you heard the story just now.

David, my older brother, the first born, is just like our father.

He is responsible, hard-working, and moral.

He’s been good and faithful in our congregation,

And he’s worked right alongside Father almost since he could walk.

If you need someone to count on, David is there.

I’ve always known that if anything ever happened to our parents,

before I married my husband and had a family of my own,

David would make sure that I had a home and family –

If not with a good husband, then here with him.

Now, Jubal, my little brother, is another story.

Please don’t misunderstand – I love him like crazy.

But loving Jubal makes you a little crazy.

He’s so much fun – so funny, has a million friends,

And he loves a good story and a big party.

Jubal never does anything the first time he’s asked,

And he might not do it the second time he’s asked,

And if he DOES do it, he won’t do it the usual way.

If David asked Jubal to drive the oxen from one field to another,

Jubal would figure out a way to put it off until the last minute.

And then he would find the longest, laziest route –

That is, if David hadn’t already moved the oxen by then.

And  - oh my – if anything ever happened to my husband

And I had to look to Jubal to watch out for me –

I might as well go down to the village and sell myself as a slave, 
or….worse.

Jubal’s good with words, too,

He can say something that sounds really innocent,

But then later, you think about it and say, “Wait a second!”

David’s word is his bond – with Jubal, you better think before you answer.

That’s why it was so terribly painful when Jubal asked our father

For his share of the inheritance.

Everybody knows that sons inherit because of one significant event –

Their father’s death.

Asking father for the money now was like saying,

“I wish you were dead.

But since you’re not, let’s avoid the inconvenience to both of us,

and you can just give me the money now.”

In order to give Jubal what he asked for,

Father had to go ahead and split the farm up.

I guess he gave David the land and the livestock,

And he must’ve given Jubal money, or everything that he could easily sell.

David was furious when Father agreed.

Father didn’t say a word about it.

Jubal left a few days after he got the money from our father.

I didn’t know the details until he came back,

But my husband, Joshua, and some of the women I see sometimes,

Told me a few of the stories they had heard.

Joshua just shakes his head whenever Jubal’s name comes up.

“How could he squander all that money?!” he says.

“After your father and David worked their whole lives to build the farm,

Jubal hoops it off in a matter of months.

And on what?

Parties! Drinking! Running around with scoundrels!

Who knows what else he got up to?

What an idiot!”

It was Joshua who reminded me that if Jubal came back,

The other men might run him off, even kill him,

For dishonoring our father in such a way.

“He’s brought shame to our family,

Shame to our village,

And he’s not worth the space he takes up.

I’d go with them and cast a stone myself, if it weren’t for you”

Joshua said.

After he came home, Jubal told me some of what he’d experienced.

Some of it I won’t share with you – it makes me blush.

But you can imagine…

After he had spent every last cent our father gave him,

Jubal’s good times came to an abrupt end.

All those friends who lived it up with him disappeared.

When Jubal was paying the bill, they loved to sit down to dinner.

Now, they didn’t even offer a bowl of broth.

Jubal ended up working for a Gentile,

Tending the pigs.

I don’t need to tell you that pigs are unclean to us.

We don’t keep them, we don’t raise them,

we don’t butcher them and we darn sure don’t EAT them!

And now here was Jubal,

Out in the fields with them,

Looking jealously at the pig slop they were eating.

That’s when he came to his senses.

Jubal said to himself, “This is not how I was raised!

This is not how my father intends for me to live!

My father loves me,

And even though I’ve done such awful things,

Even unforgivable things,

Maybe, just maybe, he could forgive me.

At least maybe let me work for him as a servant.

I’ll go to him and beg for his forgiveness.

I’ll work to make it up to him.

Being father’s servant would be better than this –

At least I would have enough to eat.”

So Jubal came dragging back home,

Broke and dirty, not knowing what kind of reception he would get.

My father had been sitting in the dooryard every day about this time,

Just before sunset, when the sky would color pink and purple

And give you a wistful feeling.

And that’s where he was when he saw his son Jubal coming up the road.

And first, my father’s eyes lit up, and he smiled SOO big.

Bigger than he smiled when he saw my baby son for the first time.

And then the realization hit him.

His face got serious, and he ran out the door.

He ran!

My father ran!

That may not mean much to you, but in our culture,

For a man of our father’s stature to run – well, it’s embarrassing.

His robe was flapping around his skinny old ankles,

And he looked, … undignified.

Joshua couldn’t believe it when I told him –

He couldn’t even IMAGINE his father-in-law running!

“And for what?” Joshua asked. “For that worthless brother of yours!”

But when I look at my little son,

I know how my father must have felt.

He didn’t mind embarrassment, risking his dignity.

That was his son on the road,

That was his son coming home!

Dirty, bedraggled, shamefaced, repentant – no matter!

“That’s my child! Coming home to me!” my father said.

My father threw his arms around my brother and kissed him and hugged him.

Jubal started with the lines he had so carefully rehearsed –

He knew he had no right to ask for anything –

And our father stopped him.

The servants, at a word from their master, brought a robe, and sandals and a 
ring.

Just in case anyone was watching and wondering,

Just in case anyone was planning to punish my brother,

My father made sure they could see right away

That he was welcome, that he was a member of the household.

Everyone was rejoicing.

Even my little one clapped his hands at his uncle Jubal.

The party started as soon as they could kill our best, fattest calf

And get the food ready.

The musicians started and the dancing began.

I guess everyone forgot about David.

I feel badly about that.

Imagine coming in from working in the fields to this.

David heard the music and the clapping

and asked one of the servants what was going on.

“Your brother has come home, and your father has killed the fatted calf,

because he has got him back safe and sound.”

It’s no wonder David got mad and went out to pout.

That’s the way it’s always been.

David follows all the rules and nobody pays any attention to him.

Jubal breaks all the rules and he gets a party.

So even though I was happy to see Jubal,

I understand how David was feeling.

David was the dutiful, obedient son

The one who stayed and helped with the farm, did all the work,

While our brother ran off and wasted all his money.

And I’m sure David was wondering what would happen to the farm now.

After all, when Jubal asked, our father divided everything between the two 
of them

And now, here was Jubal back, on what was, in a way, David’s farm

Then there was the party itself.

David doesn’t have a lot of friends.

My husband pals around with him a bit,

And he has friendly neighbors

But he doesn’t have a bunch of guys, or couples, that he spends time with.

Certainly not any friends to invite to a party.

Maybe its because of all that serious responsible dutiful obedient stuff –

He’s not exactly a party kind of guy.

But he never threw a party,

So I thought it was pretty nasty of David to say what he did:

“Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you,

and I have never disobeyed your command;

yet you have never given me even a young goat

so that I might celebrate with my friends.

But when this son of yours came back,

who has devoured your property with prostitutes,

you killed the fatted calf for him!”

Well, for one thing, David never asked for a goat, or for any kind of party.

And Jubal didn’t ask for a party – he asked for a job!

And that thing about prostitutes was just cheap and mean-spirited.

But worst of all was, “This son of yours” like Jubal was no brother of ours

David said “This son of yours” like Jubal’s name was a bad taste in his 
mouth.

Hadn’t our father suffered enough?

Why did David seem so intent on seeing Jubal rejected, or at least punished?

It didn’t make any real difference in David’s life, one way or the other.

If David was doing the right thing, being the obedient child,

Respecting and loving his father,

If he was doing all that for the right reasons

You’d think he’d have been happy for our parents,

That they were so happy.

I expected our father to say something like that to David.

But here’s how good my father is:

He simply said, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.

But we had to celebrate and rejoice,

because this brother of yours – Notice he reminded David of that!

was dead and has come to life;

he was lost and has been found.”

I wish I could get my brothers to listen for a moment.

Here’s what I would say to them.

To my brother who stayed at home, I would say,

“Please – there’s a party going on in our father’s house.

Inside there is food and music and dancing

And there is joy.

Yes, you’ve been good.

You’ve been loyal and faithful and obedient.

You’ve done everything a responsible person is supposed to do.

But that’s not why our father loves you.

He loves you for you, not what you’ve done.

Please, come in out of the dark,

And join the party.”

To my brother who ran away, I would say,

“I have to agree with you – you have made a mess of your life.

You’ve wasted all the many gifts our father gave you,

You’ve squandered the rich inheritance you had.

And where are your friends?

What use was all that wealth to you?

In the end, you’re sleeping with pigs,

Covered in filth and tired and hungry and brokenhearted.

But look.

Our father sits out on the porch every evening at twilight.

He watches the far horizon, looking for you,

Hoping to see you.

And when you trudge up that long road

Toward your home,

Our father is waiting.

And he will jump up and come running – running! – to meet you.

He’ll wrap a beautiful cloak around you,

Put a ring on your finger and shoes on your feet.

And he will wrap his arms around your neck and weep for joy.

You were dead, but now you are alive.

You were lost, but now you are found.

Welcome home,

Welcome home,

Welcome home!”



(Comments to Christina at oursundaybest@hotmail.com.)

Faith Presbyterian Church

Silver Lake, Minnesota, USA