More on "The Lost Son"

Luke 15:11-32

On Sunday, I posted a version of the parable of the prodigal son which I originally wrote a little over 20 years ago. I made some minor alterations as I typed it, but it is essentially unchanged from the original.

The post inspired a rather strongly worded comment from Dr. Omed, to whit:

In my experience, the prodigal son doesn't get a big welcome home party when he comes home. One must renounce one's prodigiousness, I imagine, to get the steak dinner. But the story of the prodigal son is one of the biggest pieces of Horsesh*t in the Bible — if he crawled on his knees his Dad might give him the job as a hired hand, and a chance to work his way up. And the faithful son would be his supervisor.

The evangelical atheist has a point. The story is not believable today, and I doubt that it was any more "reality based" when Jesus told it. My version has a fairly obvious "fairy tale" quality — "There once was a farmer" is certainly a variation of "Once upon a time."

Although the notion of fairy tale might have been foreign to Jesus' audience, they did know what a parable was. Parables were popular teaching device with prophets as far back as Elijah. They would not have expected verisimilitude in the same way we might.

You'll notice that, in my reworking of the story, I title it "The Lost Son" rather than "The Prodigal Son". The parable is one of a series in Luke 15 which have to do with lost items: first the Lost Sheep (a.k.a., "The Good Shepherd"), then the Lost Coin, then the Lost Son. This context suggests that the emphasis is on finding what has been lost, rather than the son's prodigality.

In fact, there is more than one prodigal in the parable. The son is prodigal is the sense of being "recklessly wasteful"; the father is prodigal in the sense of being extravagant, or profuse in giving. The first instance of the father's prodigality in the original story is the fact that he gives the son his share of the inheritance so willingly. I suspect this would have been contrary to the experience of any in Jesus' audience. At the very least, the father would have argued the point.

The father is then extravagant in welcoming the son home. The best of everything — the best clothes, the best food, a big party. This by itself defies all reason. And, as Dr. Omed points out, it's highly unlikely the father would have welcomed the son back as a full member of the family without some kind of test or means of proving himself.

We are often tempted to read parables allegorically; which is to say that each character in the story exactly represents something else. In this case, we might say the Lost Son represents the average sinner, the Older Brother represents the judgmental Pharisees, and the father represents God. I think this is an accurate, if incomplete, reading.

One of the draws of the parables is the fact that the roles may be fluid; in other words, we may find ourselves playing different roles at different times in our lives.

It must be admitted that most people seem to identify with the younger son in this story. I think part of this reflects the fairy-tale quality of the parable. Fairy tales always seem to favor the smallest, or the youngest, or the plainest. And, as participants in the tale, we are more likely to identify with Cinderella than the stepsiblings or stepmother.

Additionally, many people of my generation share the experience of turning their backs on organized religion for a time. Some of these may indeed perceive themselves as one who has strayed and been reclaimed. Others may have had times in their lives when they felt distant from God, for example during major life challenges (deaths, divorce, etc), and they now feel close to God again.

I just mentioned that we are unlikely to identify with the "villains" of a fairy tale — the stepsiblings, et al; we are equally unlikely to identify with the Older Brother in this parable. But it is a role many of us play, from time to time. We may want to set standards for inclusion in our denomination. We may expect newcomers to quickly adopt our beliefs and customs. We may feel resentful of a newcomer who is quickly entrusted with responsibilities.

We may feel reluctant to even broach the idea of identifying ourselves with the Father in the story. It might feel sacrilegious, if indeed the Father represents God. Elsewhere in the Gospels, Jesus tells the disciples to be perfect even as God is perfect (Mt 5:48). While this may seem an impossible goal, we are certainly called to strive to imitate God (or, to paraphrase Thomas a Kempis, Imitate Christ). So, it may be that we are to imitate the father in this parable. Rather than focusing on how we have strayed and returned, or on how others need to measure up to certain standards, perhaps we are meant to rejoice for those who join (and rejoin) us on the journey.

Post #1455