Readings: Joshua 5:9-12; 2 Corinthians 5:17-21; Luke 15:1-3, 11-32
In today’s Gospel from Luke we hear the Parable of the Prodigal Son, the last of a trilogy, following the Parable of the Lost Sheep and the Parable of the Lost Coin. All are intended to teach of God’s infinite love and mercy, and serve to rebuke Jesus’ critics and defend his actions.
This story contains much behaviour that is scandalous, perhaps more than we may think at first glance. We are told of a younger brother who claims his inheritance early and who then goes off into the world, no doubt full of great expectations! This may not seem to us entirely normal behaviour but it does not register as being the great scandal it was in Jesus’ time. To claim one's inheritance in this manner was practically unheard of and can be seen as akin to wishing one’s father dead, and so the ingratitude of such an action cannot be overstated. For the family too, it meant shame and disgrace, a loss of their honour among fellow citizens. Both father and elder brother are seen to fail in their duty to reconcile the younger son.
Upon this initial disgrace is heaped further ignominy, the son squanders all his inheritance and has to take a lowly job tending unclean animals. Such a fall was, perhaps, to be expected in one so reckless, but the social implications for him and his family are disastrous. To lose one’s inheritance to the Gentiles meant that returning to one’s own community was almost impossible. One would have to bear the shame of the kezazah ceremony in which such a man is disowned by his community until he can repay all that he has lost. Sick of hunger and disease but without any display of real repentance this is what the son does, he returns home intent on pleading to become one of his fathers ‘hired workers.’
On seeing him the father runs to meet him, another scandalous act in itself, for a man of wealth and position. The son, on seeing such a display of fatherly love, finally comes to complete repentance – ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I no longer deserve to be called your son.’ He recognises he has been truly lost but has now been found. The father then bestows upon him all the trappings of an honourable and worthy man, a man worthy to be called his son – the robe, the ring, the sandals, and orders a rare feast in his honour. Such complete and unquestioning forgiveness is seldom seen. The elder son is understandably stunned but must ultimately reconcile himself to the fact that this is not a display of favouritism, or a reward for wayward behaviour, but an act of complete and selfless love and mercy. ‘Your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.’
In this parable we see a powerful argument against self sufficiency, of trying to live a life detached from God and our neighbour, a life which rejects the inestimable grace of God. Our Father’s arms are always open to greet us, he is always willing to run to meet us no matter what sins and misdeeds have led us away from Him, and so this parable is, at once, a sign of the enduring love our Father has for us, and of the daring invitation for us to emulate such forgiveness and mercy in our own lives, not just this Lent but always.
In today’s Gospel from Luke we hear the Parable of the Prodigal Son, the last of a trilogy, following the Parable of the Lost Sheep and the Parable of the Lost Coin. All are intended to teach of God’s infinite love and mercy, and serve to rebuke Jesus’ critics and defend his actions.This story contains much behaviour that is scandalous, perhaps more than we may think at first glance. We are told of a younger brother who claims his inheritance early and who then goes off into the world, no doubt full of great expectations! This may not seem to us entirely normal behaviour but it does not register as being the great scandal it was in Jesus’ time. To claim one's inheritance in this manner was practically unheard of and can be seen as akin to wishing one’s father dead, and so the ingratitude of such an action cannot be overstated. For the family too, it meant shame and disgrace, a loss of their honour among fellow citizens. Both father and elder brother are seen to fail in their duty to reconcile the younger son.
Upon this initial disgrace is heaped further ignominy, the son squanders all his inheritance and has to take a lowly job tending unclean animals. Such a fall was, perhaps, to be expected in one so reckless, but the social implications for him and his family are disastrous. To lose one’s inheritance to the Gentiles meant that returning to one’s own community was almost impossible. One would have to bear the shame of the kezazah ceremony in which such a man is disowned by his community until he can repay all that he has lost. Sick of hunger and disease but without any display of real repentance this is what the son does, he returns home intent on pleading to become one of his fathers ‘hired workers.’
On seeing him the father runs to meet him, another scandalous act in itself, for a man of wealth and position. The son, on seeing such a display of fatherly love, finally comes to complete repentance – ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I no longer deserve to be called your son.’ He recognises he has been truly lost but has now been found. The father then bestows upon him all the trappings of an honourable and worthy man, a man worthy to be called his son – the robe, the ring, the sandals, and orders a rare feast in his honour. Such complete and unquestioning forgiveness is seldom seen. The elder son is understandably stunned but must ultimately reconcile himself to the fact that this is not a display of favouritism, or a reward for wayward behaviour, but an act of complete and selfless love and mercy. ‘Your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.’
In this parable we see a powerful argument against self sufficiency, of trying to live a life detached from God and our neighbour, a life which rejects the inestimable grace of God. Our Father’s arms are always open to greet us, he is always willing to run to meet us no matter what sins and misdeeds have led us away from Him, and so this parable is, at once, a sign of the enduring love our Father has for us, and of the daring invitation for us to emulate such forgiveness and mercy in our own lives, not just this Lent but always.
Excellent. Excellent. I am never quite sure about this parable. It seems we are all lucky the God is not fair. Great thoughts Graham, thank you.
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