Luke 15:11-32 – The Prodigal

I’m not going to provide my own translation or paste the text from another one here today, as the passage is long, but I’d strongly suggest re-reading the story before you continue. Read it carefully.

This parable is often called the parable of the prodigal son. Many commentators, however, have considered it much more about the prodigal father, in the sense of a father who was lavish and extravagant about his love and generosity. This latter view is not bad as the meaning of the parable.

I’d like to suggest, however, that we can look at this parable in more than one way, and the meaning shifts as we do so.

The first view is one that I heard many times before. The prodigal son has done many horrible things in his life, and finds himself at rock bottom. From that final landing place he manages to grasp just a little bit of hope. Maybe, he thinks, I can persuade my father to take me back as an employee. The lesson of the story seen from this point of view is that you should be willing to repent and come home, and the Lord will accept you.

Not bad. Even true.

But the next view is that this is the story of the father, a father who always loved his son, who gave him early access to his inheritance, and waited for his return as long as he was away from home. We can gather that he lived with this hope because he sees that son returning from a long way off and comes to welcome him. From this point of view, this is the story of the father’s grace, love, and willingness to accept the returning wanderer.

Even better. Also true.

But the third point of view is the other brother, the good brother, the one who stayed home and worked hard and thought he was pleasing his father. He’s satisfied with is goodness and believes his father owes him respect for his diligence in keeping the family business going and providing support for his father in his old age.

Not very nice. But very true.

Contrary to the way many read this story, I actually think the older son is the target. You see, I am the older son. Yes, I’ve done some wandering, but not as much as other people I know. In fact, I lived a quite respectable and productive life while I was out of the church. When I came back, I was ready to start teaching the Bible and diligently doing God’s work.

I had to return, but not from a far country. Just from a little ways down the road. And yes, the father was there waiting for me. I was a respectable wanderer who returned in good time and was able to put what I learned in the meantime into God’s work. Many said it was part of God’s plan, that God had been preparing me to work.

So now I can look at people who have wandered far from God. They’ve gone off and become addicts, criminals, God-haters. They’ve really hurt my heavenly Father. They’re the bad people who need real redemption and not just a little adjustment to their lives.

But you know what happens? When they show up, the angel choirs break into hallelujahs. God welcomes them into his arms. There is great rejoicing over this one sinner who repents. Even, no, especially, the ones who fell the farthest, who behaved most despicably, who were the least respectable in human terms.

And yet … there’s the father waiting, watching, jumping up joyfully, welcoming, feasting.

And I’m left to keep on trying to do everything the father wants me to do. Why don’t I get the reward that I think I ought to get?

It’s actually very simple. Even when I make the story about me, the older brother, it’s still God’s story. It’s still about the Father whose grace reaches everyone and who’s holiness is so far above that if I were to concentrate on it, I wouldn’t be so incredibly foolish as to try to compare my accomplishments to those of my wandering brethren. We all need to come into the Father’s care and receive the Father’s grace. None of us have anything of our own to bring.

The story becomes also an invitation to let God take us to the place where we don’t feel superior to the returning prodigal, no matter how long he has wallowed with the pigs, or how much money and life he has squandered.

In fact, the pig sty is closer to the Father than the management office on the Father’s farm.

If you are living in that place of service, and waiting for your reward, and wondering why others you think are less worthy than you seem to cause all the rejoicing, consider saying this: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you, and am no longer worthy to be called your son.” He’ll interrupt you. You won’t get any further. Because he has been calling you his son all along.

He’ll rejoice that you finally realized it.