"Sabbath Release" by Rev. Jillian Hankamer 3/30/2025

A sermon for Northminster Church

Luke 15:11-32

The dark-haired woman sits alone in her too-big-for-one home. Her dogs are quietly napping in their beds and with no one around to talk to, to call out for, the silence wraps itself around her like a cloak. She’s been single before, but that time she had some choice in the identity. The ending of her first marriage to a man who was not her equal and could never have been a real partner to her was the hardest thing she’d faced up to that point in her life, but she knew it was right.

Now she thinks she isn’t so much single as alone. She had no choice in this change in her identity, and the sudden rending of who she knew herself to be just yesterday leaves her breathless. In less than 24 hours, she’s gone from a woman married to a man she waited years for to this new thing. Not single, really, but something so much more painful she can’t bring herself to say the word out loud.

Soon her family will be with her, filling her too-quiet house with their noisy love and concern. She refuses to have a funeral for this man, who is...was…bigger than life. So there will be one heck of a party. But for now, she sits, wondering where the pieces of herself have gone. Wondering if she’ll ever feel whole again. Eventually, something inside her releases. “I am a widow,” she says to the still sleeping dogs.

The man leaves the doctor’s office and gets into his car. The news is not good, and he’s unsurprised. He’s been a smoker for decades and knew it would catch up with him eventually. He thinks of his family - his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren and wonders if they’ll miss him. He knows himself to be a hard man; his long years as a military officer have made him good at following orders and being disciplined, but lousy at talking about his feelings or showing emotion.

His mother will miss him, he’s sure, though he realizes she’ll outlive him despite being in her 90s. His thoughts drift to his son, his only boy of four children. Estranged for years, the man knows that when this news reaches his boy through one of his sisters, it won’t change anything. Their relationship is broken beyond mending, but it comforts the man to know he’s right and his boy was out of line. After all, children must respect and listen to their parents no matter their age.

As he makes the final turn for home, the man thinks of his wife. Not the woman he’s married to now, but the love of his life who was taken so quickly by cancer. His children are right when they accuse him of not dealing with his grief, though he’ll never admit that to them. He still can’t stand hearing her name spoken, and it’s been almost 20 years. But he’s been a pastor since he was a teen and spent decades as an Army chaplain, so the man is confident in the eternal life Jesus promises. He thinks of being in the arms of Christ and seeing the smile of his love, and his heart releases.

A father rushes out of his home and stands in the road, his eyes glued to the horizon. His older son thinks he’s crazy, getting on in years, but the father knows what he saw. A parent knows the shape of their child’s head even from a distance, even after all these years. The father’s first instinct is to run out and meet the boy - for he will always be a boy to his father - before he knows he’s been seen, but he decides to wait. His boy, his son, who’s been gone so long, needs to return on his own. He needs to make that decision for himself, even in the placement of his feet upon this road that was his escape route.

            So the father paces impatiently, acutely aware of his anxious footfall. In turning to begin another pass, he sees his boy at the top of the hill that leads home. Without conscious thought, the father takes off, running with a speed he didn’t know he possessed anymore. Despite his determination to let his boy finish this journey that began with so much arrogance and bravado, the father cannot wait. He runs up the hill with his arms open and embraces his son, his boy, his prodigal that is returned home.

            Even as his precious boy launches into a heartfelt, but clearly rehearsed apology, 1the father calls for clothes to be brought and a feast to be laid. An apology isn’t necessary; his boy is home, and the father’s joy is incandescent. As he walks his younger son, his baby, into the house with an arm wrapped tight around his shoulders, the father feels the terror that’s gnawed at him all these years release.

            But the father’s heart tightens at his older son’s anger. He knows he must correct his older boy’s way of determining his value, for it is not based on work ethic and loyalty.  Feeling immeasurably tender toward his firstborn, the boy who made him a parent, the father takes his older son’s face in his hands. With his heart in his eyes, the father says, “My son, you are my rock and everything I have has always been yours. I love you with my whole heart, not because you’ve helped me keep the farm going and have been faithfully by my side all these years, but because you’re my child. That alone determines your value to me. I understand your anger, but your brother’s homecoming changes nothing between us, and for so long, I feared he was dead. Come and celebrate that he is here and whole, and we get the chance to know him as a man who can admit his mistakes, not the boy who left and broke both of our hearts.”

            We can only hope the older brother’s anger was released and he was able to join in the celebration.

What do you need to release my friends? For the truth, this morning is that we all need release from something; that’s the connection between these two stories - the need for release. And whether it’s a facet of ourselves that we can’t face head-on or a medical condition that threatens to take something precious from us, our God claims us as-is. Those who struggle with the desire for power over others and who’d rather care for themselves than for those most in need can be released from their self-focus by being actively generous and relying on God.

            That’s the beauty of Sabbath - that it’s not just about resting or taking time to worship God, but that living a life centered in Sabbath motivates generosity within ourselves and others. Living a Sabbath-centered life slows us down enough to be grateful for our bounty while noticing the needs of others.

Making the effort to observe the Sabbath and keep it holy gives us a chance to experience the presence of a God who runs out to meet us unwashed and dressed in rags because we are her children. For our God meets us where we are. Our God knows us for who we are. We are enough for our God just as we are. And our God, the God of the Universe who loved us enough to become one of us, offers us wholeness, offers us life everlasting, and offers us release.