The Parable of the Merciful Father and His Wasteful Son

Last time, we saw how Jesus responded to a group of religious leaders who didn’t like the crowd he was attracting by telling them a series of parables about the “joy in heaven” at finding the lost. Over the next two posts we’ll look at the third of these parables, traditionally known as the Parable of the Prodigal (i.e., Wasteful) Son. The Parable is really two parables in one: the first, which we’ll look at today, focuses on the younger, wasteful son; the second focuses on his dutiful elder brother. And together, a better title might me The Parable of the Merciful Father and His Two Self-Centred Sons.

Text

The Parable of the Wasteful Son is found in the second half of Luke 15, following directly from the Parables of the Lost Sheep and Coin. The first part goes like this:

[15.11] Then he said, “A certain man had two sons. [12] And the younger said to their father, ‘Father, give me my share of the property that will be my inheritance.’ And he divided the family livelihood between them. [13] And not many days later, the younger son gathered up everything he had and went abroad to a distant country, and there he wasted his property by living with abandon. [14] When he had spent everything, a severe famine fell upon that country, and he began to be in want. [15] So he went and sold himself out to one of the citizens of that country, and he sent him out to his fields to feed the pigs. [16] He even wished he could fill his body with the carob pods that the pigs ate, but no one gave him anything. [17] But, coming back to himself, he said, ‘How many hired hands does my father have who have more than enough bread while I am wasting away from hunger? [18] I’m going to get up and go back to my father and I will say to him: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; [19] I am no longer worthy to be called your son; so make me one of your hired hands.”’ [20] So, he got up and returned to his father. And while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was deeply moved. He ran out to him and embraced him and kissed him. [21] And the son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” [22] But the father told his slaves, “Quickly bring out my best robe and put it on him, and place a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet! [23] And get a fatted calf and kill it so that we can eat it and celebrate, [24] because this son of mine was dead and has come back to life, he was lost and is now found!” And they began to celebrate. (Luke 15.11-24)

Experience

As I read this story, I was struck by the father’s excitement. I often think of him as merciful, but while he certainly is that, the story doesn’t show him having compassion on the son’s lowly state, but simply being overjoyed to have him home again. That made me think of so many parents I’ve met over the years dealing with struggling grown children. Yes, they are compassionate, often to their detriment, but compassion doesn’t really enter into it: They are just parents who are happy to know their children are safe.

But I also noticed all the layers of interpretation added over the years by reading and sermons and such. How much of that has just been speculation?

I also noticed that when I read “A man had two sons..,” my mind immediately jumped to the many biblical stories of families with two sons, and I wondered what significance this could have. I also noted some strong word choices in the Greek text and wondered what might be said about them.

Finally, this section reads as a complete parable and is not dependent in any way on the second half, so I wondered if there is anything structural in the story that could help me understand more.

Encounter

From the wider context, we know Jesus is speaking here to an audience comprised of Pharisees and scribes who are critical of the company he keeps.

We meet two main characters in the story: a father and the younger of his two sons. While I’d love to know more about the minor players, sadly there are no windows into the broader world of the parable: it’s laser focused on the father and son.

Explore

These initial thoughts provide us with a few guiding questions:

• What can literary context and form tell us about the passage?
• What cultural or legal precedent is there for the situation described here?
• What might other biblical stories of families with two sons tell us about this one?
• What do the narrative details tell us about the son’s predicament?
• How would the father’s behaviour read to Jesus’ audience?
• Do the specific word choices have any significance?

Literary Context

This is the third of three parables focused on the theme of lostness/foundness. As such, it is like previous parables in both context (the attacks on his dining companions) and theme (rejoicing at the lost being found) (Scott 100; Levine). But because this story is split into two, the theme of rejoicing is not the narrative centre here as it was in those parables (though it remains the story’s climax); its centre is instead the son’s ‘coming to himself’ and decision to return home (Bailey (1976) 159; Just 596). This is an interesting detail, since Jesus mentioned repentance in his conclusion to both those parables, but it was not really in the stories themselves.

Legal and Cultural Precedent

The son’s request to receive his inheritance early is often read by Christian scholars in extreme terms. In fact, based on the early work of Kenneth Bailey, which was informed by his years living among Middle Eastern villagers, it’s been common to say that the request was tantamount to wishing his father dead (Bailey (1976) 161ff; Walton & Keener; Just 597; Capon). But is this really the case? Amy-Jill Levine, a Jewish NT scholar, rejects the claim, insisting that it was common practice for second sons to receive their portion early in order to establish themselves abroad in the Jewish Diaspora, and so the only issue here is his wastefulness (Levine; Levine & Witherington 418). Bernard Brandon Scott has assessed the available ancient evidence, and while nothing exactly matches the situation described here, his conclusions offer a helpfully nuanced perspective:

The situation described in the parable, though not unknown, is surely not the norm. Nor does the situation reflect well on either the father or the younger son. The father has put his family honor in jeopardy; he has behaved in a foolhardy way. And the son, in requesting the right of disposition, has in effect pronounced his father dead, because disposition of the property assumes his death. (Scott 111)

In other words, the available evidence suggests that the situation described was legally possible, morally questionable, and practically foolhardy. There’s nothing to suggest the shock value of Bailey’s claims, however a community’s emotional reaction to an event rarely rests on its legality, so it remains a possibility.

A Man with Two Sons

There are few story set-ups as evocative as “A man had two sons…” Even just thinking of the Bible, there’s Cain and Abel, Ishmael and Isaac, and Esau and Jacob. In all of these, it is the younger son who is favoured over the elder. More broadly, conflict between elder and younger sons is also seen in the stories of Joseph (elder sons gang up on the favoured younger son), David (youngest son showing up his older brothers), and Solomon (the older brothers stage a coup, while the younger ends up king). These stories show a consistent pattern of older sons, with the better legal claim, and often better behaviour, passed over for a favoured, often morally suspect younger brother (Levine & Witherington 417; Scott 112). So from this opening, the audience is primed to cheer for the younger son, even as the character goes down some very dark roads.

The Son’s Misadventure

The younger son “squandered his wealth” and spurned his people. As Levine notes, the latter point has nothing to do with his moving away, but everything to do with his not seeking out the support of the Jewish diaspora (Levine & Witherington 418). Since every major city in the Roman Empire had a Jewish community, their absence from the story speaks volumes. This separation is further symbolized by his hiring himself out to work on a pig farm (Scott 114; NIV BTS; Just 598; Walton & Keener). As the Talmud put it plainly, “Cursed be the man who would breed swine” (Baba Kamma 82). And so he is so much an outsider that he is for all intents and purposes dead (Nuechterlein Lent 4C). He grows so hungry that he longs to eat the carob pods fed to the pigs. Narratively, this is the final movement of his descent: he has left his family (physically and by squandering its wealth); his people (physically and symbolically); and now he leaves his humanity (by longing to eat animal food) (Scott 115). But there could also be irony at play here. There was a proverb dating at least to the rabbis that Israel only repented when reduced to eating carob pods. Here, the son wishes he could eat them (Walton & Keener).

Repentance?

The son “comes to himself” and concocts a plan to return home, accept his disgrace and forfeited sonship, and beg for a position as a hired hand in his father’s household. Most commentators interpret this as an act of repentance (Capon; Scott 104; NIV BTS; Thurman; Palamas; Just 599; Bailey (1976) 179). On this point, Levine is again an outlier, reading the prodigal’s actions as wholly self-serving, with his ‘I have sinned against heaven and before you’ an ironic repetition of the false repentance of Pharaoh in Exodus 10.16 (Levine; Levine & Witherington 421). So much of our present discourse around repentance and forgiveness revolves around hollow apologies not backed up by actions. Here at least, the prodigal takes responsibility for his actions and is willing to face the consequences (Scott 116; NIV BTS; Thurman). Even if, as Levine suggests, he does so expecting his father to take him back as a son, there’s always the chance he could be wrong and he’ll be forced to follow through. So that’s repentance enough for me.

As Just notes, if the story ended here, it would simply be a standard morality tale that ‘good religious folk’ like the Pharisees would have approved of (Just 600). But, of course, it doesn’t end here.

The Father

The father is set up from the start as the most unpredictable character (Just 600). He begins by foolishly accepting his younger son’s demands and splitting his property before his death. (Even Levine agrees with this sentiment (Levine & Witherington 419).) Now, as his wayward son returns in disgrace, he welcomes him warmly. Moreover, he had been watching for him, recognized him from a distance, and ran out to meet him on the road! Again based largely on Bailey’s experiences of Middle Eastern culture, it’s become common to highlight the shame involved in a father running like this (Bailey (1976) 181; Just 601; Scott 117; Walton & Keener; Capon). Levine again rejects this claim (without substantiating it; Levine & Witherington 424); but if even in a culture such as our own it’s shocking to see a man running down the street in a business suit, we can likely infer that this detail in the story is meant to convey a lack of concern for appearances and reputation on the father’s part. And even if the father’s welcome of his son would not be unexpected to a Jewish audience (Levine; Levine & Witherington 422; cf. Scott 125), the way it’s described here in the parable is excessive (Just 597; Scott 117; Capon).

The father will not hear his son’s plans, but immediately orders his robe, ring, and sandals — all symbols of the family and its authority — placed on him. In other words, he has completely reinstated him as a full member of the family, with all the privileges and responsibilities thereof (Levine & Witherington 424; Walton & Keener; Capon; Scott 118; Just 600).

The scene ends with the father ordering a feast to celebrate his son’s return. This calls back to the central theme of the two previous parables, and sets the scene for the second half of the story.

Lost and Found, Dead and Alive

In addition to the expected language of lost and found, this parable uses bold language surrounding life and death. This is most noticeable at the end, where the father proclaims: “This son of mine was dead and has come back to life” (15.24). This could be simple hyperbole, but there are hints of this language earlier. In 15.12, the son asks for his share of the inheritance by using the word ousia ‘essence, being’; then when the father divides his estate, the Greek literally says he divided his life (bios) (Scott 111). These words could certainly carry these meanings, but there were plenty of other ways Luke could have said this. This was a choice, to subtly emphasize the severity of what’s happening. There is also the fact that such a division of property was normally left until after a father’s death; even if the son may not be telling his father to ‘drop dead’, the request at the very least brings the spectre of death into the story (Scott 118; Capon).

No one has brought out this theme more from this parable than Robert Farrar Capon. He concludes that the returned prodigal “is a dead son who is alive again, … because his father was himself willing to be dead in order to raise him up” (Capon). Even if we take Levine’s lead and avoid the more radical interpretations in which the father has essentially committed social suicide, we still have a story of a father who understands what Christian ‘death to self’ looks like, that humility that sets aside one’s own desires and honour for the sake of one’s beloved. He could have held on to his anger, resentful, and so on, but instead he forgave completely and in so doing, got his son back completely.

With this in mind, the party he throws is a “celebration of life” (Nuechterlein Lent 4C). The son is valued in all the uniqueness that makes him irreplaceable in his father’s eyes, and so his return to self, to the family, and to life, is worth celebrating!

Challenge

Subversion of First-Century Expectations

The question of the extent to which Jesus’ parable would have been shocking is an open one. To those who follow Bailey’s culturally-informed reading, almost every single detail would have been horrifying, with a son wishing his father dead and renouncing his heritage by working with pigs, and the father acquiescing to his son’s insulting demands only to shame himself further by running down the road to greet him. If Levine is to believed, all of this is greatly exaggerated: the only genuinely shocking thing in the story is the father’s and son’s shared foolishness when it comes to money. But even in this very pared down reading, the father is portrayed very foolishly, which would itself subvert expectations. At the very least, Jesus is asking the Pharisees to put themselves in the shoes of a man who orders a feast for his wayward son’s return without any demands for reform or restitution.

Contemporary Challenge

As much as this story emphasizes the father’s love at the returned son, it should also invite us to ponder some of the ways we waste what we’ve been given. Certainly in our time of massive energy consumption, planned obsolescence, and fast fashion — which the very real and incipient threats of climate catastrophe have not slowed down — the idea of sin as wastefulness should give us pause. But the same is true spiritually: What gifts have we squandered by not using them, or using them wholly for ourselves? What grace, love, and forgiveness have we received from God yet refused to pass on to others, in violation of God’s pay-it-forward economy of grace? And, as Gil Bailie and Paul Nuechterlein remind us, it is also true psychologically and socially: “We are prodigal children who have refused to recognize the grace of our existence and have thus squandered our substance” (Nuechterlein Lent 4C). Of course, all of this must remain in the context of a parable about the grace and welcome of God. But, when you know better, you do better, so the hard questions remain for us: Inasmuch as we have been reconciled to God, how now will we live?

One further point from a more meta-interpretive perspective: For all my criticism of Levine’s seemingly knee-jerk rejection of the widely-accepted scholarship about the parables, it must be noted that her efforts are a kind of bulwark against antisemitism. People have often understood the father’s actions as the opposite of what Jewish fathers would do, creating an image of domineering and punishing fathers devoid of affection for their children. These images are then placed on the Jewish conception of God and therefore Judaism itself. Inasmuch as this is the case, then Levine’s minority report stands as a badly needed corrective and reminder that Christian theology is an interpretation of Second Temple Judaism, not a rejection of it. While Jesus was very critical of the Pharisees and all the Jewish religious leaders of his day, he did this as a faithful Jewish man out of a desire for the Law and traditions of his people to be brought into their fullest fruition.

Expand

The interpretation that has emerged in this study encourages us to grow in faith and love in the same way the previous two parables did: It reminds us of God’s inordinate love and mercy for wayward creation. While God may respect our freedom too much to interfere, all we have to do is turn around to find God coming to welcome us. At the same time, we are also to be like the father welcome those who have wandered when they return. It’s this last part that was the reason Jesus told the parable and we’d do well to remember it!

Summary & Conclusions

Playing off of readerly expectations about older and younger sons, this parable tells the story of a father who lovingly, if foolishly, lets a younger son take his share of the family estate and make his own way in the world. But when the son later returns having squandered everything the father reinstates him fully to the family, and orders a feast in celebration. Like the Parables of the Lost Sheep and Lost Coin, Jesus uses the story to rebuke those Pharisees who attacked him for welcoming and dining with those who flouted the Law: As leaders of the community of faith, they ought to be first in line to join the party and not complain about the guests of honour. And the same should go for all of us.

 

* For full references, please see the series bibliography.