The Prodigal Son: Another of those Mis-Named Parables

Jesus was fond of likening life in the Kingdom of Heaven, living our lives out under the sway of God’s influence, to a rather unique great banquet or dinner party wherein the guests are not exactly limited to how most of us might calculate the invitations.

Once, at an actual dinner party, while observing how the guests sought out the better seats in the joint, Jesus - not so subtly - commented on how busying ourselves with simply being fabulous was only likely to spoil the party for everybody. He goes on to suggest that the presence of the poorer folk, the maimed, the lame, and the blind - who undoubtedly had not been calculatingly invited - would certainly add a bit more spice to the gathering. These comments prompted one of the gathered elite to declare “How happy will be those who eventually eat bread in the kingdom of God!” Jesus, aligning himself solidly with the predominant witness of Jewish scripture, offers a rather rude shock to this gentleman’s limiting focus on some happy and glorious hereafter. As a former colleague of mine once suggested, Jesus had a knack for knocking his listeners off the bus bound for the heavenly suburbs by dropping them off in the seediest side of town.

So, Jesus, laying stress on the immediacy of the invitation to experience and encounter God in the ongoing party happening now, he tells another story about a person who is issuing invitations to a party to beat all parties. One by one, those living fabulously graciously calculate how to best bow out of the open invitation. One is test-driving their new fleet of Porsches, another is flying out to some warmer clime with their latest heartthrob, and another plans to stay at home so as not to miss the big game being televised tonight. As lame or as legitimate as these excuses may be, they are really little more than calculated rationalizations for being a party-pooper keeping us out of touch with the graces of the party giver. The point is that there is free wine and food to be had for all and it matters littler if drive or manufacture Tesla automobiles or can’t even afford a skateboard at the local Goodwill store. All are invited and nobody, by right. deserves to be there. Grace, in Jesus’ mind, is about raising the dead and not about rewarding the living. There is nothing calculatingly fair or equitable about any of this. And, if we are honest enough to see it for what it is, and to measure it by most of our standards, it is downright crazy.

These are some of the contextual appetizers served before the telling of what we have popularly come to call the Parable of the Prodigal Son. However, like the so-called Parable of the “Good” Samaritan, by the time all is said and done, this parable too is inadequately named and quite possibly misunderstood because of that. So, on to the Parable that, at the very least, has two sons and a father.

The word “parabol” - we may recall - refers to something (in story) that is thrown (“bol/ball” being the root of the word) beside us (“para” being the prefix signifying beside or next to). Jesus’ use of parables is designed to turn our attention away from thinking things through in our more common straight-forward manner. So, now we are presented with a man who, having two sons, is approached by the younger son demanding his inheritance be given to him now. We should first ask what here is odd, out of the ordinary, particularly if we were first-century Jewish Palestinians?

Well, to begin, generally speaking, it would be somewhat out of the ordinary to have a younger son claim much of a right to any inheritance. Let’s, however, give the kid a little credit here and lets not judge him by what we bring to this story from our possible over-familiarity with it. He’s actually likely to have been a hardworking, obedient son who has suddenly come to terms with the fact that his future existence is not likely to be as rosy as it currently is when his older brother inherits the farm. He’s ready to cut his losses and run but he will need something to run on, so he calculatingly comes up with a plan to approach the old man to ask for as much as he unreasonably can in the hopes of getting at least something. One of the losses he’s cutting from is the old man himself. In demanding his share of the inheritance, which is only awarded when the last will and testament is read, he is no less than saying, “Listen, let’s face it Dad, you’re better off to me dead than alive. So, let’s put all pretense about that aside and just pretend that you are dead.” Practical, yes, but not very gracious.

And what does the old man do in response to the younger boy’s entreaty? He grants it. We are told that he divided everything in his “life” (“bion” is the Greek word here from which is derived the English words for biological life). He quite literally lays down his life, as if he were no more, and he divides it between his two sons. Whatever else we may conclude about this transaction, after it is complete, the old man - apparently - possesses nothing left over to ever give again. He has given it all away. There is something about all of this which should seem rather off-kilter to us. Can you imagine the response of the older boy when he found out? “You did what? Wasn’t that supposed to be all mine when you died, Pop?” He must have gone away from that conversation wondering just off-kilter his father had become and how soon they would be transferring him to the old folks home on the other side of town.

The younger boy, we are told, goes off happy as a pig in mud. After a while and somewhere along the way, he loses it all. Now most of our English translations suggest that he “squandered his property in loose living.” However, that is a rather biasedly amplified rendition of Jesus’ words here. It might be closer to Jesus’ words to conclude that the boy’s essence or substance or being (that great Greek word “ousia” which so enriched the development of the theology of Nicaea and its subsequent faith statement we call the Nicene Creed) was dispersed by way of living “unwholesomely”. That last word could just as simply be read as having had little more than an inability to maintain a balanced account of his finances. In Greek it is “a-sotos” which is actually the negated form for the word often translated as “salvation”. Biblical salvation is less about “being saved” than it is about living holistically, living with one’s whole self in a wholly holistic manner. It is to live by loving the Lord our God with the whole of our heart, the whole of our mind, and the whole of our bodily strength (and indeed to wholly love our fellow human being as we ought to wholly lover our selves). That is salvation. Thus, the boy is claimed by Jesus to have had some consequential imbalances in his life which, through circumstances of some sort, threw the whole makeup of his life into freefall. We don’t need, as the older brother does later conclude in his own personal snit fit, to attribute ill repute to the misfortune which fell upon the younger son. For all we know he may have fallen victim to some thieves while walking through the wrong neighborhood at the wrong time on his way from Jerusalem to Jericho. If it hadn’t been for a Samaritan who stopped to help him…but I digress.

What Jesus does tell us is that he eventually ends up in the mud among pigs but he is not very happy. To get himself out of the stew or the sty he’s wallowing in, he starts calculating exactly how to ingratiate himself back into his father’s graces. If we’ve been listening at all to Jesus telling this story (and not to what we might have been taught to imagine he is saying), we have to ask: What exactly does the younger boy expect to gain from returning to his Dad? Afterall, the old man has already given everything away. What might the old man still have in store for this calculatingly remorseful son. It would make more sense if the younger son went groveling up to is his older brother who, after all, has what remains of the old man’s estate.

However, as we all know - if we are honest, all our rationalizations and excuses rarely actually consider what is true. So, the young whipper-snapper sets out for home, developing and practicing the speech which will, if the calculations work, will restore him to…to what exactly? In his speech he claims no presumption of access (another great Greek word, “axis”, whose meaning has been tarnished with presumptive claims of worthiness) to his own sonship, being willing to enter into a contractual relationship with the one who is the very source of his life - but, inconveniently, out of the business end of such things. There is a lot in that last sentence that we might well consider in light of how we often perceive and live out the understanding of our own relationship to God…

Back to the story. The old man, we are told, seeing the boy from afar, runs to him and embraces him with kisses. The boy’s calculating speech, for all the effort he put into it, falls on deaf ears. Why? When it comes down to it, we are never forgiven because of the attempts by which we hope to make ourselves forgivable. We are forgiven because there is a forgiver, somebody other than us who possesses a heart to forgive.

For the old man, such moments call for a celebration and that is exactly what the old man utters into existence. Let the party commence! Let there be fancy costumes and jewelry. Let there be new shoes for the dance floor. Let there be the robust smell of lamb lollipops on the grill. Let there be a celebration for the dead who have been raised. Let there be a toast for the lost who have been found. Let’s all eat, drink, and be merry for today we are together again! And it was so. And the old man declared it all so very good.

Except, except…all is not honky dory in God’s heaven on earth. For here he comes… The Head of the Morality Police. The Dean of the Local Law School. The self-elected President of the Labor Department and the Controlling Agent of the Bank Accounts. It’s the elder son, remember him?

If we listen closely we can almost hear his rather unrehearsed - though no less calculating - speech competing to be heard above the raucously loud voices of jubilation. “My God, what is going on here? Has everybody lost their mind?” Catching a glimpse of his younger sibling dressed like the King of Mardi Gras, he approaches his old man, now a bit tipsy from the either the wine or perhaps just the celebrative spirit, “Dad! We gotta talk! This son of yours… (Make note of how this exchange mimics the one between the lawyer and Jesus after the telling of the Samaritan parable when the lawyer will not even permit the name “Samaritan” to pass his lips. Here the older boy will not acknowledge his own brother -which, in many ways, is where the rubber hits the road or, at least, begins to skid all over the place) …this loser (upon whom he hurls all manner of unsubstantiated accusations) is not worth the expense of all of this! And, besides, its my money paying for all this! You gave it to me, having already given half of mine to that, that, that idiot! I cannot and, further, will not dignify this waste with my presence!”

Again, let’s be honest. He’s got a few good points. Given our druthers we’d probably, in a jury with our peers, uphold most of his arguments and conclusions than rule against them. This conscientious, hard-working, law-abiding, trustworthy keeper-of-the-books, hard-working citizen would find a warm welcome if he showed up at our church door.

However, let us give the last word, if for no other reason than the fact that Jesus does, to the old man, the old man who, after having giving everything away, still is able to reach down and pull out riches from a heart of inexhaustible abundance. “Child of mine,” he says to his responsible older boy, “all I have is yours. So…get off your high horse, pour yourself a drink, get out on the dance floor, and, for your own sake, if not for God’s, enjoy the moment…because this brother of yours, who is no less yours than anything else you might consider yours, is no longer lost and no longer given up for dead. And we need no greater cause for celebration.”