Lk 15:1-3, 11b-32

25 March 2001

4th Sunday in Lent

 

"The Gospel within the Gospel"

 

As I was thinking about the scripture readings for today, I had a bit of a problem.  The epistle reading, though it has some good stuff, just didn't grab me.  And I gave the text in Joshua some serious consideration, but it mentions circumcision, and every time I thought about it, I wanted to cringe.  But don't worry—someday I will address the issue of circumcision!

Then there's the gospel reading in Luke 15, which deals with the parable of the prodigal son.  I didn't immediately want to go with this one, either.  The problem is that it's so familiar that it doesn't seem to be very interesting.  Aside from maybe the story of the good Samaritan, this is probably the best-known of Jesus' parables.  The phrase "prodigal son" (or "prodigal daughter") is part of our popular culture.  People who have nothing to do with the church use the term.  (Although I've noticed that sometimes the word "prodigal" is used to simply refer to someone who's been away for a long time!)

So there's that.  And while spending the entire Lenten season meditating on the parable with Henri Nouwen's devotions would seem to make things easier, sometimes the opposite is true.  Sometimes we can have too much exposure.  It becomes necessary to step back and get a new perspective.  I find that's true for me, anyway.  Fortunately, this parable, which has been called “the gospel within the gospel,” the good news within the good news, provides all kinds of perspectives.

The whole thing is set up by the complaints of some Pharisees and scribes who protest the fact that Jesus sits at the table and eats with tax collectors and other undesirables.  You'd think he'd understand that any decent Jew wouldn't associate with scumbags like that!  It shows complete disregard for the moral and religious standards of society!  Still, it’s not completely unexpected that Jesus would welcome such people.  After all, in the verse just before this, in 14:35, he’s just proclaimed, “Let anyone with ears to hear listen!”

It's only Jesus, not the religious authorities, who feels the need to have compassion and to show the way to those who are lost.  Accordingly, his response to the Pharisees and scribes comes in the form of three parables about the lost.  The first is about a lost sheep, the second about a lost coin, and the third, our scripture text, is about a lost son.

Jesus starts simply enough:  "There was a man who had two sons" (v. 11).  He puts the focus on the father, not on the boys—who by the way, are referred to as "two sons," not "two brothers."  That isn't an accidental reference!  Does everyone remember literature class?  That's called foreshadowing.

We're presented with a blunt request by the younger son.  He wants to receive the portion of the inheritance that will be his after the father's death.  According to Deuteronomy 21:17, that would be half the amount his older brother is due.  Many people have commented on how shocking a request this is, that he's basically saying to his father, "Drop dead."  It may not be quite that extreme; what the younger son does is not completely unheard of.[1]  Still, it shows great disrespect and indicates that he's ready to leave the family forever.  They'll truly be dead to him.

Still, the father agrees “to [divide] his property between them” (v. 12).  The word for “property” is bion (bion), literally, “life.”  The father gives him his “life.”  And within a few days, the son takes his massive amount of spending money, and as the scripture says, "traveled to a distant country" (v.13).  This is the road trip of a lifetime.  He wants to get as far away as possible.  And when he's left that parental authority uncounted miles behind, he has more freedom than he can handle.  Young, rich, and ready to party, "he squander[s] his property in dissolute living" (v. 13).  Dissolute—that’s really wasteful; it’s prodigal.

Unfortunately, la vida loca causes the funds to run out before he knows it.  And that's not all that runs out.  Not only has the money run out, but so have his recently-made friends.  And to add insult to injury, a famine ruins the economy of the nation in which he's settled.

Desperate, the young man agrees to work for a pig farmer.  Feeding swine, probably not the most sought-after occupation on anyone’s list, is truly an abomination for a Jew.  And what's worse, this job doesn't even pay well enough for him to avoid always being hungry.  In fact, his constant hunger soon makes the pods that he's been feeding the animals look pretty good.  He literally wants to "pig out."

It's at this point that he comes to his senses and realizes what a first-class (I'll say "jerk") that he's been.  "How many of my father's hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger!" (v. 17).  And he rehearses what he'll say:  he'll admit his guilt and beg to be taken on as one of the employees.  So off he goes.

At this point, I want to inject a thought.  Remember, Jesus isn't simply telling a fascinating story.  He intends for his hearers to see themselves in what he's saying.  I invite all of us to do the same.  Think of our relationship with God and the ways in which we've been the younger son.  Think of the riches and blessings that we've squandered, only to find ourselves looking hungrily at the food of swine.

With verse 20, the tone changes.  We go from focusing on the younger son's actions to those of the father.  He's really the glue that holds this whole thing together as a story.  In describing what the father does, Jesus paints a picture that's totally at odds with what the society of his day would expect.  Jesus says that at the first glimpse of the returning prodigal son, the father immediately sprints toward him and embraces him.

Many commentators have noted that "[i]n ancient Palestine it was regarded as unbecoming—a loss of dignity—for a grown man to run."  Slaves are the ones supposed to be running around!  "Yet the father set aside all concern for propriety and ran."  In fact, some "Arabic translations of this story refuse to translate this running!  They avoid this because it is clear that the father here is acting as God acts towards prodigals.  Running in public is too humiliating to attribute to a person who symbolizes God."[2]

The younger son launches into his speech, confessing his sin and admitting that he no longer deserves to be considered a son.  But before he can beg for a job, he gets interrupted by the father, who calls for the best robe they have, a ring for his finger, and sandals for his feet.  And as for the fatted calf—slay it!  It's time to eat, drink, and be merry!  Not only is the prodigal son restored, but he's restored in style!

At verse 25, we come to the second major section of the parable.  This is where the elder son enters the picture.  If the younger son represents irresponsibility and wastefulness, then the elder son symbolizes responsibility and duty.  While the younger son was off playing, he was making sure things got done.  While the prodigal was nowhere to be found, he was the good son, the model son.  And how appropriate it is that they get the party started while he's out in the field!

When the older son finds out from one of the slaves the occasion for all the hullabaloo, he isn't pleased.  He refuses to go back to the house.  This prompts the father to go out to him and plead.  It's at this point that the elder son unleashes the flood of anger and resentment and pain that has welled up within him.

For years, I've worked like a slave for you, "and I have never disobeyed your command" (v. 29), says the elder son, who feels like a glorified servant.  And to what thanks?  You've never given me so much as a stupid goat so I can feast with my friends.  "But when this son of yours came back, who devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!" (v. 30).  That bum may not be dead to you any longer, but he's still dead to me!  He should be on his knees!  No, he should be on his face, begging your forgiveness!

Notice that the older son refers to his wayward brother as "this son of yours," not "my brother."  For a variety of reasons, his heart remains closed to his younger sibling.  The older brother needs to undergo conversion as much as the younger one.  But in his case, it's not as immediately obvious.  He hasn't lived a wild life; he's always done the right thing.  But like everyone who does the right thing, his sin is on the inside.