Lent 4C, 2025
Text: Luke 15:1-3, 11-32
Title: “All is forgiven, Papa”
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Ernest Hemingway once told a story to illustrate the popularity of the Spanish name Paco.
A father, he said, journeyed to Madrid to put an ad in the local paper. It read, “PACO MEET ME AT HOTEL MONTANA NOON WEDNESDAY ALL IS FORGIVEN PAPA.” The next day the authorities had to muster a squadron of the local police to disperse the mob of 800 young men, all named Paco, who massed on the street in front of the inn.
To me, this story doesn’t just illustrate the popularity of the name, Paco, but our common need for forgiveness and reconciliation.
How many of you would respond to a notice like this from one of your family members?
“All is forgiven, papa.”
What a great summary of the parable of the prodigal.
What a great summary of the gospel, period: the loving father ready to welcome His child home.
It’s certainly not what that younger son expected to find when he returned home.
He had hit rock bottom.
He had thought that living the party life in the exotic, far-off country would be a dream come true.
But the dream quickly turned into a nightmare.
The money ran out. And when the money was gone, his so-called friends were gone, too.
No money also means no food, and the younger son soon found himself in the pig-pen.
For a pious Jew, this was as low as you could go.
Far from home, far from the temple and the house of God.
No family, no friends, and surrounded by filth and uncleanness.
Perhaps you’ve had a similar experience.
You thought you knew what would be best. You thought you knew what would make you happy. You thought that you knew better than your parents.
But eventually, it all collapsed around you, and you longed for what you had given up.
The younger son has a plan, though. He’s ready to go home.
But what would he find when he got there?
He expected the usual lecture from dad. The “I told you so” speech. We’ve all heard that one, right?
He expected some hard work to make up for his mistakes.
That’s what he expected. That’s the way that the world works. When you mess up, you pay the consequences.
That’s the way the world works.
But that’s not the way that his father works.
The younger son came home, not to find lectures and hard labor.
Instead, he found new clothes, new shoes, a ring, and a party waiting for him.
And best of all, a father, running to meet him. A father hugging him tight and kissing him through his tears of joy. A father who welcomes him home not with words of reproach and anger, but with forgiveness. “All is forgiven, Papa.”
Today, your Father welcomes you home with those same words of forgiveness. With those same lavish gifts. He greets you with the words, “I forgive you all your sins.”
No matter how long you’ve been away, no matter how far and deep you’ve sank into the filth and uncleanness of this world, all is forgiven.
There’s nothing more you have to do to make up for your sins.
Because Jesus has done it all for you.
He endured exile from His heavenly Father. He took upon Himself all of your rebellion and all the uncleanness of this world, your sins and mine. The good son, the faithful son died for you on the cross, so that you could receive a warm welcome home.
This place, this congregation should be just like our Father’s house, where sinners are welcomed home with open arms.
This place should be a place of rejoicing, of partying and celebration.
The older son heard the music and the dancing and was confused. “What’s all the fuss about?”
Our neighbors should hear our music and the celebration and likewise ask, “What’s all the fuss about?”
And then we can be the ones to tell them why we are celebrating, why we are rejoicing. The lost are found, the dead are raised, God’s children have come home.
This should be a place of joy and celebration. And I don’t just mean when we have potlucks, like we will later today, or the Easter breakfast, or the church picnic, or any of the other fellowship events we host.
Our greatest joy, our greatest celebration is when we are gathered here, at our Father’s table to eat and drink the very body and blood of Jesus Christ, the fattened calf slaughter for our celebration, giving us forgiveness and life, giving us a taste of the great homecoming, the great heavenly banquet which awaits us.
And this meal that we share here at this table is what shapes our congregation. It changes us and the way that we care for one another.
Did you notice how the older son talks about the younger one to his father?
“That son of yours….” he says. He’s not willing to call him his brother.
None of that talk here. No talk of “those people,” whoever they may be.
None of us is better than another. We’re not like the Pharisees of old.
Instead, we are all forgiven by our Father. We are all equal, no matter how long we’ve been here.
And so, we call each other brother and sister, or better yet, we take the time to learn one another’s names.
We don’t get upset if someone sits in our pew.
We sit with new people we don’t know and learn their stories and how the Lord has led them back home to this place.
We help each other with rides to get here each week. We notice when people are missing, and we check on them.
We pray for one another.
We help each other look for jobs.
We send cards and visit each other when we’re sick.
We go to each other’s funerals.
The love and forgiveness of our Father shapes every aspect of our lives together, as He draws us closer to Him and to one another.
Because no matter where you’ve been or what you’ve done, those words are always, always there for you, “all is forgiven, Papa.”
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