In
the Gospel today we hear the parable of the Prodigal Son. Of the four Gospel writers, Luke is the only
one that tells us this parable. Why is
that? Why didn’t Mathew, Mark and John
bother to tell us this story? Did they
not know it? It is a pretty good story
that you think would have made the rounds.
Maybe
the other Gospel writers left it out on purpose. Maybe they didn’t like this parable. That’s possible, because I don’t much like it
either. Because even though we call it
the Parable of the Prodigal Son, I don’t think this story is really about
him. And the older son, while important
to the story, is also not the real focus.
It is the father who is, I believe, the center of the story. And it is a depiction of God that is highly unusual
and rather unsettling.
How
are we to understand the story? Remember
the context. In Jesus’ day society was
very patriarchal. One’s social, economic
and even religious standing depended on your relation to the head of the
household. Respect for the father of the
family was very great. So it would have
been shocking for the audience of Jesus to hear that the younger son should
brazenly demand his share of the estate.
First of all he had no share coming to him. Inheritance at that time followed the law of
primogeniture, meaning that the eldest son got everything, and daughters and
younger sons got zip. This was kind of
harsh, but it prevented small plots of land being divided into useless, tiny
parcels. So the younger son had no claim
whatsoever. And secondly, the younger
son was effectively saying he wished his Father was dead, since that is when
the inheritance would come into effect.
The
only thing more shocking than the younger son’s atrocious behavior is the
Father’s. Instead of smacking the kid up
the side of the head as he so richly deserved, the Father indulgently and foolishly
gives the younger son half of his estate.
What? Are you kidding? That is totally irresponsible! This is not a parable about good parenting.
The
younger son, egotistical twit that he is, is soon parted from his money and
finds himself in dire straits. Driven by
hunger, if not by remorse, the younger son returns home in the hopes of finding
a meal.
Meanwhile,
the doting Father is yearning for the younger son, scanning the horizon for his
hoped for return. While the younger son
is still a long way off “his father caught sight of him, and was filled with compassion. He ran to his son, embraced him and kissed him.” In that culture, where the appearance of dignity counted
for a great deal, to see the old man running down the road would be most
exceptional. That sort of thing was just not done. It would have been undignified in the
extreme.
Not letting the prodigal son finish
his apology, the Father commands his servants to get a ring for his finger, sandals
for his feet, a robe for him to wear, and to kill the fatted calf for a
home-coming feast.
That is the last we see of the younger
son. Has he really matured, or just been
driven by hunger? Probably the
latter. In any case the Father is a
hopelessly irresponsible parent. As one commentator writes, “Indeed, we might well wonder if the reason
the son is impossible is that the father is so inept.”
Now the story shifts to the older
brother. He was supposed to inherit
everything, but now half of the estate has been squandered away by his wastrel
brother. He got jipped! In his anger he refuses to go into the
feast. Ever indulgent, the Father comes
out to plead with him. The older son
states his case, that he has been dutiful and diligent but has not been
rewarded, while this younger son blows off half the estate in parties and loose
living and then he is given a hero’s welcome on his return. It is unjust, unfair, and wrong to say the
least.
The Father never answers the just
claims of the elder son. Rather he
states a deeper need, a deeper reason than strict justice. “He said to him, 'My son, you
are here with me always; everything I
have is yours. But now we must celebrate and rejoice,
because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.'"
because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.'"
The
Father operates by a different logic than what is fair, what is just. And the Father is, of course, a stand in for
God. This is not a parable about
repentance, but rather a parable about the incomprehensibility of love and the
mystery of God. God’s love just doesn’t
make sense. It is not fair.
God
just doesn’t see as we see. God doesn’t
think like we think. God loves. That is what God does.
God
loves in crazy, prodigal, even unfair and irresponsible ways. But God loves. That is what God does. It is unnerving and upsetting and even
unjust. But God loves. That is what God does.
He makes his rain come down on the
bad and the good, shines his sun on the good and the bad. That is the God Jesus knows, and that is the
God Jesus teaches us about: a crazy Father
who loves first, foremost and always, even in the face of the claims of
justice.
He
loves. That is what God does. And we are to be like Him.
The
younger son doesn’t deserve anything.
But God loves him. The older son
is uptight and focused on his rights, on what is due to him. God loves him.
God
loves. God loves. God loves.
That is what God does.
Are they open to receiving God’s
love?
Are we?
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