Anyway, I thought I'd "go deeper" with yesterday's Gospel. I don't always do that (although it's not unheard of) but yesterday was one of the "big ones" - the prodigal son. Honestly, I've read entire books about this parable, so no blog post (however rambley) will be able to cover it. But I'll at least try to hit the big stuff.
Normally, I type out the entire Gospel at the top, then go deeper below. Since this particular Gospel passage is...very, very long...I'll do it in pieces.
Tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to listen to Jesus,
but the Pharisees and scribes began to complain, saying,
“This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”
So to them Jesus addressed this parable:
“A man had two sons, and the younger son said to his father,
‘Father give me the share of your estate that should come to me.’
So the father divided the property between them.
After a few days, the younger son collected all his belongings
and set off to a distant country
where he squandered his inheritance on a life of dissipation.
When he had freely spent everything,
a severe famine struck that country,
and he found himself in dire need.
So he hired himself out to one of the local citizens
who sent him to his farm to tend the swine.
And he longed to eat his fill of the pods on which the swine fed,
but nobody gave him any.
Coming to his senses he thought,
‘How many of my father’s hired workers
have more than enough food to eat,
but here am I, dying from hunger.
I shall get up and go to my father and I shall say to him,
“Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you.
I no longer deserve to be called your son;
treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers.”’
So he got up and went back to his father.
So the parable opens with the Pharisees doing their usual and being mean to Jesus. This time, they're criticizing him for who he hangs out with. Instead of just calling them out on it, Jesus tells a story (for the record, you wish you were cool enough to reply to meanness with stories).
Anyway, the first thing we have to notice about this parable is the social circumstances, particularly how it normally played out in first-century Judea. Jesus specifically mentions a couple of things (and remember, Jesus never says things just to say things): our protagonist is the younger son, who starts the parable by asking his father for his inheritance. Regular readers know that sometimes we hear Bible stories so much we stop thinking about what they're saying. First off, it's important that the younger son is the "main character" - back then, it was the older son that was entitled to the best of everything. Second, and probably more importantly, he asks for "his share of the estate". Let's put this into 2013 terms - a man goes to his dad and says "Listen dad, your will says that when you die, I get $100,000. Can I just have it now?" And yes, that was just as insulting in the first century.
So the father, trying his best not to be insulted by his son saying "You're not dying fast enough for my wallet", gives him the inheritance. The son buys a first class ticket on the Shoeleather Express and goes to a "distant country" to blow every cent on hookers. In a turn of events that shocked exactly one person, a famine strikes and the son has no money for food. Starving, he eventually takes a job taking care of swine. Let's stop there for a moment. I like to imagine when Jesus told this bit, the Pharisees gasped. A Jew tending swine!? It's an outrage! Seriously, that would have been embarrassing though. Finally, he realizes that even the servants back home have bread, where he has nothing. He rehearses a speech in his head and decides to go home. Note his reason though - he's not particularly sorry for what he did. Sure he might admit that he "sinned against heaven and against you" but he's just hungry. He's not so naive to be expecting a warm welcome, though. Son or not, he did just waste all of his money on hookers. Rather, he plans to go back and beg to be treated like "one of your hired workers".
We don't always have the "right reasons" for returning to God. What's important, though, is that we come back in the first place.
While he was 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.
His son said to him,
‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you;
I no longer deserve to be called your son.’
But his father ordered his servants,
‘Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him;
put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.
Take the fattened calf and slaughter it.
Then let us celebrate with a feast,
because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again;
he was lost, and has been found.’
Then the celebration began.
Let's note the father's reaction here. What would we expect him to do? We would likely expect him to wait in the house for his son to return to him. He might be angry, or at the very least hesitant to forgive. No...he ran to his son. He didn't wait for the son to come all the way to him. He saw him "While he was still a long way off" and "ran to his son, embraced him and kissed him."
How can this relate to God's dealing with us? We, like the son, start the journey back. We're still human, though. No amount of...anything...can save us without God. So the father comes running to us. He knows we can't reach him, so he comes to meet us in the middle and take us the rest of the way.
Then, the son goes into his rehearsed speech. Notice how far he gets. The father interrupts him and calls for his servants to bring him clothes and, notably, a ring. The ring, in those days, was the symbol of belonging. It was the symbol of family. Having a ring wasn't just jewelry. It allowed the bearer to sign official documents. We see this symbolism today in the Fisherman's Ring worn by the Pope (when we have a Pope, that is).
So right away the father welcomes the son back. He gives him every sign of being back in the family or, in his words, "come to life again". He doesn't yell at the son for wasting his money. He welcomes him with (literally) open arms and (figuratively, hopefully) open heart.
Not everyone is so pleased to see him back, though...
Now the older son had been out in the field
and, on his way back, as he neared the house,
he heard the sound of music and dancing.
He called one of the servants and asked what this might mean.
The servant said to him,
‘Your brother has returned
and your father has slaughtered the fattened calf
because he has him back safe and sound.’
He became angry,
and when he refused to enter the house,
his father came out and pleaded with him.
He said to his father in reply,
‘Look, all these years I served you
and not once did I disobey your orders;
yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my friends.
But when your son returns
who swallowed up your property with prostitutes,
for him you slaughter the fattened calf.’
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.’”
The older son never did leave. He's still at work in the fields when he hears a bit of a commotion. He asks what's going on, and hears the good news. The older son "became angry" and stormed off. Here we can find another analogy to our own lives. If our repentance makes us like the younger son, our obdurance makes us like the older. He was so mad that he "refused to enter the house". Like before, the father comes out. Let's take a moment to realize how significant that is. Back then, the father was the head of the household. You came to him, not the other way around. Now we have two instances (on the same day, no less) of the father leaving to meet a son who could not enter. He met the younger son, who was unable to enter, and likewise met the older, who was unwilling.
I think sometimes we get like the older brother. We see people that, in our eyes, are lesser than us. People who have made mistakes (like the younger son) but then see them get rewarded. It's human nature to be upset. We find another instance of this in the parable of the hired workers (you know, the one where a man hired people throughout the day but paid them all a full day's wage). It's only natural to expect more recompense than somebody who did less (or, in this case, wasted all that money on hookers).
How can we react to all this? I think usually when people read this parable, they compare themselves to the younger son - y'know, the hero! We can really look at it from three vantage points though. Sure, sometimes we're like the younger son, and we come back to God for one reason or another. But, do we also have the temptation to act like the older son? Do we see people who we judge to be "worse Christians" than us and think bad things about them? Do we malign them just because we "are here with me always" and never left to come back in the first place?
The most underrated character in the story, though, has to be the father. We've read this parable so many times we sort of take it for granted that the father will forgive. And, if we see the parable as an allegory for God's forgiveness, we can be assured of that. But there's also human value to it too. Can we bring ourselves to forgive others? Even people who wasted half our money with nothing to show for it?
This is one of those parables that leads us to ask questions. Here are just a few of the thoughts we can be left with after reading this:
- Have I strayed from God like the younger son?
- Have I "squandered my inheritance" by wasting my talents?
- Am I ready to return to God?
- Would I be doing it for the right reasons?
- Do I judge others because of their decisions?
- Do I try to compare my life to others? Do I see their "fattened calf" next to my "young goat"?
- Do I recognize that God will meet me where I am in order to lead me further?
And, most importantly,
- Am I willing to forgive today?
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