The two sons (Lk. 15:1–3,11b–32)
This week, we hear another parable from Jesus. This one is a bit longer, and it’s one many of us know as the Parable of the Prodigal Son. The word ‘prodigal’ means wasteful or reckless. We know it as the Parable of the Younger Son.
It’s probably fair to say that the main focus is about the younger son’s recklessness and regret, his repentance and guilt, and his father’s sheer joy when he comes home. It’s about the grace of God towards people who repent of their sin. You can’t hear this parable without drawing out that theme, but there’s a bit more depth to it than we sometimes realise.
Much of the story is about the younger son and the father’s open arms. If Jesus ended the parable there, it would’ve made for quite a good story of forgiveness and it would’ve had a happy ending. Jesus is telling this parable to the Pharisees – the ones who criticised him for associating with sinners and tax collectors and even having dinner with them.
They would’ve nodded along despite the extremities that Jesus included in the story (more on that later) and made sense of the ending to some degree. But then he adds that bit about the older brother who doesn’t like this happy ending. It ends on a somewhat sour note and leaves us wondering what happened next.
A quote from theologian, N. T. Wright: “Sometimes when a storyteller leaves us on the edge of our seats like this it’s because we are supposed to think it through, to ask ourselves where we fit within the story, and to learn more about ourselves and our churches as a result.”
The younger son
This younger son could not have done any more damage if he tried. He asks for his share of the family property early, which was legal but hardly ever happened. He would’ve then had to sell his piece of land to swap it for cash, which is another big no-no.
He then disappears and spends all of it on ‘reckless living’ (we soon find out what that means). He ends up having to find work, which is never easy for someone to do in a foreign country. He manages to find work, but it’s feeding pigs of all animals – they’re unclean in Jewish culture, which means it is offensive to even associate with them, let alone long to eat their food.
He comes up with a plan to come back to the family farm, which no one in their right mind would ever dream of. By this point, he is completely lost to the family and as good as dead, which is why he decides to try and make a deal with his father to join the ranks of the hired workers.
Everything he does is either against the rules, offensive, or outright disrespectful. He is the epitome of a rebel.
The father’s grace is evident from the very beginning. First, he grants his request and gives his younger son his share of the estate. The firstborn son would traditionally get a double portion of the younger son’s share, so this younger son would get one third of the entire property. The father doesn’t argue or even suggest alternatives – he grants it without a word.
The father probably knew full well what this son got up to with all that cash – why else would he run off to another country, out of the sight and care of his father? Yet, when he sees this younger son coming down the driveway, barefoot and probably filthy, what he does next is unheard of.
Being the owner of an estate and the father of two sons, he would be far too respected and revered to even consider running, yet that’s what he does. He embraces and kisses his younger son before he can even begin his rehearsed apology.
And when he does start to apologise, the father interrupts him before he can make the bargain he’d dreamt up. He calls for the best robe (a sign of respect and honour), a ring for his finger (a sign of authority) and sandals for his feet to restore his son from head to toe. He has the best family livestock, brought up specifically for a special occasion, slaughtered and barbecued. He can’t help but celebrate his son’s return.
He was dead but is alive. He was lost and is found. This parable is the third of three in a row about something that was lost being found. After the parable of the Lost Sheep, Jesus concludes: “Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.” (Luke 15:7)
When we speak those words of confession in worship, when we come to the Lord’s Supper in repentance, when a child is baptised and made into a new creation, there is a party going off in heaven. Those moments are what make us God’s children. God is much quicker to forgive than we are to repent. Before we even finish saying sorry, he’s already running out to meet us with his utter grace.
You can imagine how this son’s life must’ve changed after this point. He probably went back to work on the farm (which was now a full third smaller), being more appreciative of his father than he had ever been before. This is the kind of reconciliation that has a permanent effect on the relationship.
This is why we come back to worship, time and time again. From the moment we were baptised and forgiven our sin for Christ’s sake, our relationship with God is permanently changed. Sienna’s life will never be the same again. She will always have a loving heavenly Father to return to, as we all do. And even if we were to run away from God and waste everything all over again, his response would be exactly the same. What a beautiful message that is.
The older son
Now, what about this older son? While all this has been going on, he’s been out on the farm doing the work expected of him. He hears noise coming from the house, the sound of singing and dancing. Just imagine that your neighbour hosts a twenty-first birthday party – the sound of music, conversation and laughter is unmistakable. The older son knows exactly what’s going on, but he has no idea why.
He asks one of the other workers what this meant, and this worker knew what the party was for, for some reason. “It’s your brother,” he says. “He’s come home. Your father slaughtered the fattened calf because he’s home, safe and sound.”
This could go two ways: he could be pleasantly surprised and go and greet his younger brother, have a bit of roast beef and have a good time. Or he could respond how he did: pure anger. He feels hard done by. He feels under-appreciated. He feels replaced.
The father didn’t have to come out at all, but he makes a point of leaving the party (which he had put on), pause his moment of sheer joy and come out to urge the older son to join in. The father’s grace is again on display, but in an entirely different way.
“It’s not fair,” the older son says. “I’ve slaved away for you all these years. I haven’t ever disobeyed you. I’ve always done the right thing. This son of yours has gone and spent his inheritance on prostitutes, and you throw a party and slaughter the fattened calf for him for him.” He can’t even call him his brother anymore.
What’s the point here? Who is this meant to represent? Why did Jesus include this part in his parable?
He was speaking to the Pharisees, the ones who were known for obeying the law tirelessly and seen to be the most religious people. Even at the time when Luke wrote his gospel, the Jews were having trouble welcoming the Gentiles into the Christian Church. They weren’t the chosen people, yet they were meant to live and worship together.
What about us? What can we identify in ourselves? Can we be like this?
How do we respond when a visitor walks in the door? How do we feel when someone new wants to help? They weren’t the ones to build these walls and set up this place. They don’t know what we’ve been through to get to this point. Are we capable of welcoming the stranger? Are we a welcoming church? These are the questions the older son raises for us.
The older son is angry and feels like he hasn’t gotten reward for all of his hard work. How does the father respond?
“Son, you are always with me.” Being with the father is reward in itself, but this older son just kept working out in the paddock. Being in the presence of our heavenly Father is reward in itself – do we sometimes miss it by working too hard?
“All I have is yours.” That’s technically true now that the younger son’s inheritance is gone – the older son is entitled to everything else. Maybe that’s the problem – everything that the father has put into this party for the younger son comes out of his future pockets.
“It was fitting (literally, ‘necessary’) to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead and is alive, was lost and is found.” It was necessary to celebrate – in fact, it would be wrong not to.
It is fitting and right to give our thanks and praise, we say in the Communion liturgy. It would be wrong not to give thanks to God for everything he does for us. That’s the notion here.
The father doesn’t need to justify his actions to his angry, older son, but he does anyway. “Your brother,” he gently reminds him. Find some love in your heart. Find the grace that I’ve shown you. If the older son decides not to join the party, it won’t be because the father didn’t invite him.
Our heavenly Father has come out to meet us by sending his Son. Reconciliation with God is possible because of him. Whether we’re rebellious or whether we’re prideful, God has enough grace to come out and invite us into his kingdom. He comes out to us in our baptism. He reaches down to us in his Son’s body and blood. He comes out to us when he speaks his Word.
Will you accept that invitation? Will you acknowledge your guilt or your pride, and allow him to take it away? Will you let go of your shame? The offer still stands, and it will until the last. Let’s pray that we will.
