Maidstone Quakers

Thoughts on the Parable of the Prodigal Son

I first heard the Parable of the Prodigal Son, probably as most other people did, as a child, and I confess when I heard it I had a lot of sympathy with the elder son. It did seem to me unfair that the younger brother who had gone off without a backward glance and had a great time should be welcomed back with such open arms.

However, about 8 years ago, I was introduced to a book by Henri Nouwen called 'The Return of the Prodigal Son - A Story of Homecoming'. Henri Nouwen talks about the parable, relating it not only to himself and his life, but also to the painting by Rembrandt entitled 'Return of the Prodigal Son'. Reading this book, and studying this painting had a profound effect on me, and has helped me tap into the richness of this parable. The parable can be found in Luke Chapter 15 and depending on what version of the Bible you are reading is called 'The Prodigal Son', 'The Lost Son', The Parable of the Prodigal and His Brother' and possibly other variations. (I confess I had to look up 'prodigal' in the dictionary and found it means 'wasteful', 'reckless'). Jesus tells this parable, amongst others, in response to the critical mutterings of the Pharisees and scribes. There are only three characters – the Younger or Prodigal son, the Elder son and the Father.

The Younger son's rebellion against his Father is radical and offensive. In the culture of the times to ask for your share of the inheritance whilst your father was still alive was tantamount to saying 'I wish you were dead'. Not only was it heartless, and cruel, it would have brought shame to the whole family. However, the Younger son is determined to leave in search of something other than what he has, hoping to find something far better. He reaches rock bottom when he ends up looking after – to a Jew - unclean pigs and even coveting their food. Having completely lost his way, he finally comes to his senses and decides to go home, back to his Father. He chooses life over near certain death. The Elder son is lost in a different way. He is lost in his resentment. Obedience and duty have become a burden, and service has become slavery. When he returns from the fields, he does not go in and find out what is happening but asks a slave for information. He feels alien in his own home even though he has never left. Love seems a competition, a lack of joy and spontaneity. Remember the Pharisees and scribes? They are so caught up in their rules and their rightness, they cannot see the miracles and the joy and the healing going on around them. The Father is something completely different. Here is a man who has not only been bitterly hurt by his younger son's rejection, but humiliated as well. In the culture of the day, he would have been quite within his rights to, at the very least beat his young son, and even banish him altogether. Instead he accedes to his request, and lets him go. His joy at the return of his 'lost' son is so great that he casts all his dignity aside and actually runs to his child even when a long way off. Despite all the young son's attempts to explain himself and ask for forgiveness, these are swept aside, ignored and maybe even unheard, by the absolute joy and love of the Father. This joy is not even dampened by the Elder son's complaints. The love the Father has for this awkward and detached son is just as great. How wonderful to be told that you are always with someone and in their thoughts and that all they have is yours. Yet, how wonderful too, to know that half dead and totally lost, there is a warm and loving welcome always – no questions asked.

The story, however, is unfinished, left open-ended by Jesus. I wonder how the family got on afterwards. Whether the Elder son came in to the party, whether he could face his brother, and be glad to see him. What of the Younger son? Did he settle down, happy to be home, realising just how lucky he really was? Did the Elder son realise how lucky he was, and were they both able to just stay with their Father, and allow themselves to be beloved?

And who do I, no longer a child, relate to most now? There is still the critical and criticising Elder brother in me, grumbling about others, still thinking I have to come up to scratch and chiding myself when I fail to do so. There is the Younger brother, too, still searching elsewhere, looking further afield, restless and with a rebellious streak. But what has finally come home to me, is the immense love of the Father. We have all heard of the phrase 'unconditional love' and we may even be able to give it, perhaps, as parents. (Although is it really unconditional when we love the person whatever they have done and then say to ourselves that it was our fault?) It seems to me that to truly grasp the love of the Father which Jesus tells of, means truly letting go of all blame and judgement, and resting in that love and allowing it to filter in. It is an invitation to joy and compassion for ourselves as well as for others.

Helen Nicholls August 2010