| The Tale of Two Sons (Luke 15:11–32) |
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And He said, “A man had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the estate that falls to me.’ So he divided his wealth between them. And not many days later, the younger son gathered everything together and went on a journey into a distant country, and there he squandered his estate with loose living. Now when he had spent everything, a severe famine occurred in that country, and he began to be impoverished. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would have gladly filled his stomach with the pods that the swine were eating, and no one was giving anything to him. But when he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired men have more than enough bread, but I am dying here with hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me as one of your hired men.”’ So he got up and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion for him, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet; and bring the fattened calf, kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.’ And they began to celebrate. Now his older son was in the field, and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. And he summoned one of the servants and began inquiring what these things could be. And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has received him back safe and sound.’ But he became angry and was not willing to go in; and his father came out and began pleading with him. But he answered and said to his father, ‘Look! For so many years I have been serving you and I have never neglected a command of yours; and yet you have never given me a young goat, so that I might celebrate with my friends; but when this son of yours came, who has devoured your wealth with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him.’ And he said to him, ‘Son, you have always been with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, for this brother of yours was dead and has begun to live, and was lost and has been found.’” (15:11–32)
The Lord Jesus Christ was the master story teller. His stories were unequalled analogies clarifying spiritual truth. Although they had, above the surface, profound spiritual significance relating to the kingdom of God and salvation, they were, in themselves, stories drawn from everyday life experience that His hearers could relate to. Even Christ’s fictional stories, like the rest of the Bible, stand in contrast to false religions, almost all of which draw their features out of myth and fantasy. The Bible is a real world book, true to fact and to common human experience. Even when the meanings of the Lord’s stories were designed to conceal the truth from those who had rejected Him (Matt. 13:13–15; John 12:39–40), they were still clear and comprehensible stories. Even those who rejected the truth understood the analogies, though in the dark as to their spiritual significance and application.
This story is a clear illustration of that fact. The religious leaders understood the story exactly, but as to its spiritual meaning they were blind. Of all the Lord’s parables, this one is the best known and most memorable. Commonly known as the parable of the prodigal son, it is in reality the story of two rebellious sons and their loving, gracious father. Though a child can grasp the tale, its meaning is probably the most rich and complex of Jesus’ parables.
This story deserves more than just a barebones treatment; a mere superficial understanding that fails to grasp the depth and richness of its message. Since the Bible is an ancient Near Eastern book, its truths are presented in a cultural setting that is alien to our own. It has been all too easy for interpreters to rip this story out of its context, transport it into today’s world, and treat it superficially and errantly. To do so is not only to miss the nuances, subtleties, and features that give this story its full divine message, but also to misrepresent the message of Jesus. And that is no small crime, especially in dealing with this most crucial salvation illustration.
To draw out of this magnificent story all that God put in it is to hear it in the context that Jesus’ audience would have heard it. There were in their minds deeply ingrained social and religious ideas, cultural attitudes, generating predictable feelings and sensibilities typical of life and perception in the ancient Middle East. Even the most educated people of that time would have had their roots in simple, agrarian village life. Understanding some of the features of that life will illuminate the story for modern readers, and prevent superficial misrepresentation.
As noted in the previous chapter of this volume, the three parables in Luke 15 are Jesus’ response to accusations made by His relentless adversaries, the scribes and Pharisees. They hated Him for confronting and exposing their self-righteous hypocrisy, and in return blasphemously accused Him of being empowered by Satan. One way they tried to discredit Jesus was by attacking Him for associating with the “unsynagogued” riffraff of Jewish society, the tax-collectors and sinners (15:1–2). That Jesus associated with Satan’s people (as they viewed them) instead of God’s people (as they viewed themselves) proved, they argued, that He could not be from God.
Like the parables of the lost sheep and the lost coin, this parable depicts God’s joy over the salvation of the lost. But while the first two parables emphasize God’s part in seeking sinners this third one, while touching on God as the seeker, focuses more on the human aspect of salvation—man’s sin, rejection, repentance, and return to God. It is a dramatic, moving story of the sinner’s desperate penitence and of God’s love and eager forgiveness for such sorrow.
The story revolves around three characters: the younger son, the father, and the older son and how they acted within a culture whose ethical priority was to seek honor and avoid shame. Told to the protectors of honor and rejecters of shame, this story turns that ethical construct on its head. The younger son appears to be the extreme example of shame by his rebellion against all that is right. Then, in the eyes of the scribes and Pharisees, the father appears more shameful in accepting the son back. To all who understand the story, the older brother is the ultimate exhibition of shame, and he represents the scribes and Pharisees, who believed they were the most honorable and without shame. Those aspects of shame and honor will become clear as the story progresses.
THE YOUNGER SON
And He said, “A man had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the estate that falls to me.’ So he divided his wealth between them. And not many days later, the younger son gathered everything together and went on a journey into a distant country, and there he squandered his estate with loose living. Now when he had spent everything, a severe famine occurred in that country, and he began to be impoverished. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would have gladly filled his stomach with the pods that the swine were eating, and no one was giving anything to him. But when he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired men have more than enough bread, but I am dying here with hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me as one of your hired men.”’ (15:11–19)
The story of the familiar younger of the two sons unfolds in three stages of shame: he made a shameless request, committed a shameless act of rebellion, and then shamefully repented.
A SHAMELESS REQUEST
And He said, “A man had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the estate that falls to me.’ So he divided his wealth between them. (15:11–12)
The story opens by introducing a man who had two sons. The common title of this story, the parable of the prodigal son, implies that it is primarily about the younger son. Such is not the case, however. Though he does not appear until the end, it is actually the older brother who is the main focus of the parable. The younger son’s actions at the beginning set in motion the chain of events that led to his brother’s sinful reaction and the indictment of Jesus’ listeners. “Prodigal” is an archaic term that describes a spendthrift; an extravagantly self-indulgent or recklessly wasteful person. It accurately describes the younger son, as his actions reveal.
This young man made a startling request to his father and said to him, “Father, give me the share of the estate that falls to me.” The scribes and Pharisees listening to this story would have been surprised and shocked by his brazen demand. This was an outrageous, unheard of request for a son to make to his father. It was disrespectful, and expressed an extreme lack of love and gratitude to the one who had provided everything for him. The scribes and Pharisees would have considered it shameful, reprehensible, unacceptable behavior, a flagrant violation of the fifth commandment, “Honor your father and your mother” (Ex. 20:12; cf. Lev. 19:3; Mal. 1:6; Matt. 15:4).
For a son to say such a thing to his father in that culture was tantamount to saying that he wished that his father was dead, since he was not entitled to his share of the inheritance (one-third of the estate, since his brother was the firstborn [Gen. 25:31–34; Deut. 21:17]) while his father was still alive. Since his father retained control and oversight of the estate as long as he lived (cf. v. 31), he stood in the way of his son’s plans. He wanted his freedom to leave the family and gratify his own selfish desires. Normally a son who shamed himself by making such a request would have been publically shamed by his father, perhaps disinherited, or possibly even dismissed from the family and considered dead (cf. vv. 24, 32).
Further evidence of the son’s irresponsibility comes from the use of the term ousias (estate), used only here in the New Testament, instead of the usual term for inheritance, klēronomia (12:13; 20:14; Matt. 21:38; Mark 12:7). Ousias refers to property or material possessions, and its use suggests that he was unwilling to take the responsibility that came with his share of the estate. He evidently was not interested in managing his share for the family’s future good, as those before him had done, but selfishly wanted to liquidate it to use it only for his own pleasure.
Word of the son’s irresponsible and selfish request would have circulated throughout the village. The people would have expected the father to be furious with the son who had shamed and dishonored him and to take appropriate disciplinary action. Instead, in a surprising and unexpected turn of events, the father granted his son’s request and divided his wealth between his sons. Wealth translates the Greek work bios, which literally refers to physical life. It encompasses here all that the previous generations of the family had produced and handed down to the current generation. Had the father done so of his own free will it might have been understandable. But to do so in response to his wicked son’s impudent request was shocking. Instead of slapping him across the face for his insolence, the father gave him what he wanted. In the eyes of the religious leaders listening the father had, by this concession, acted shamefully himself! The Lord is making the spiritual point that God gives sinners the freedom to choose their course of iniquity
A SHAMELESS REBELLION
And not many days later, the younger son gathered everything together and went on a journey into a distant country, and there he squandered his estate with loose living. Now when he had spent everything, a severe famine occurred in that country, and he began to be impoverished. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would have gladly filled his stomach with the pods that the swine were eating, and no one was giving anything to him. (15:13–16)
It did not take long for the younger son to take the next step in his downward plunge. Wasting no time, not many days later he gathered everything he had received together. Sunagō (gathered together) has the connotation here of turning everything into cash (the word was so used in extrabiblical Greek; cf. Walter Bauer, William F. Arndt, and F. Wilbur Gingrich, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature [Chicago: Univ. of Chicago, 1979], 782), since that was the only practical way he could have taken his share of the estate with him on a journey into a distant country for his sinful pleasure. Although he could not take possession of his inheritance until his father died, he was permitted to sell his share (necessarily at a discounted price) to a buyer willing to wait to take possession until the father died (much like investors today buy futures, hedging against the future by paying the purchase price now).
As if it were not bad enough that he dishonored his father, ignored his responsibility to the family, and set off on a wasteful course of sinful pleasure, he then travelled to a distant country, meaning a Gentile region (as was all territory outside of Israel). He wanted to sin beyond the range of all accountability, far away from his father and the villagers, who scorned him for his disgraceful behavior. His action symbolizes the foolishness of the sinner trying to flee from God, to whom he does not want to be answerable.
The people listening to the story would have wondered why the Lord did not bring in the older brother at this point to act as a mediator. That would have been expected. If he truly loved his father, he would have defended his honor from the irresponsible actions of his younger brother; if he loved his brother, he would have intervened to prevent him from ruining his life and heaping shame on everyone. He bears shame for his absence. The picture is of a loving, generous father who gave his all to two ungrateful, unloving sons, both of whom had absolutely no relationship to him, or to each other.
As he had planned, after arriving at his destination, the younger son squandered his estate with loose living. Diaskorpizō (squandered) literally means “to scatter” (Matt. 25:24, 26; 26:31; Luke 1:51; John 11:52; Acts 5:37). Through his reckless, wasteful, debauched lifestyle—including consorting with prostitutes (v. 30)—he squandered his fortune.
Sin’s pleasures are fleeting (Heb. 11:25), however, and when the last of his money was gone, the party was over. His erstwhile friends, who had gladly binged with him, had no more use for him once he had spent everything. Hard on the heels of his bankrupting himself came another disaster, this one not of his own making: a severe famine occurred in that country. Famine was a dreaded and deadly scourge that was all too common in the ancient world. Famine drove both Abraham (Gen. 12:10) and Jacob and his family (Gen. 47:4) to seek refuge in Egypt, Isaac to seek refuge in the land of the Philistines (Gen. 26:1), and Ruth and her family to take refuge in Moab (Ruth 1:1). There were famines throughout Israel’s history (2 Sam. 21:1; 1 Kings 18:1–2; 2 Kings 4:38; 8:1; Neh. 5:3; Lam. 5:10; Acts 11:28), often with appalling consequences—including cannibalism (2 Kings 6:25–29).
For the first time in his life he began to be impoverished (lit., “come up short,” or, “be in need”). His own bad decisions, coupled with the severe external crisis brought about by the famine, brought him to an inconceivable level of desperation. He had forsaken his family, and his so-called friends had forsaken him. He was a stranger in a foreign land, with nowhere to go and no one to turn to for help. He was penniless, destitute, without resources. Seeking unrestrained pleasure, unabated lusts, and unrestricted behavior, he wound up instead with pain, emptiness on the brink of death. Yet despite his dire circumstances, he was not yet ready to humble himself, return home, seek restoration, and face the consequences of his shameful behavior.
Instead, he came up with a desperate plan. He went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed swine. For a Jewish man to herd swine in a Gentile country was one of the most degrading occupations imaginable. The rabbinic writings pronounced a curse on those involved with swine (Leon Morris, The Gospel According to St. Luke, The Tyndale New Testament Commentaries [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1975], 241). The word hired is a stretch for what Jesus meant, since it translates a form of the verb kollaō, which literally means “glued.” This was not a job contract. He was a beggar and like persistent beggars the world over, he probably latched on to this man and would not let go. To get rid of him, the man would send him to feed the pigs, perhaps with no intention to pay him anything. He was reduced to fighting the pigs for the pods that they were eating. These were probably carob pods, which are virtually inedible for humans (although when crushed to powder, they can be used as a substitute for chocolate). Even his attempts at begging failed, for no one was giving anything to him.
The younger son’s behavior exemplifies the sinner’s wretched desires and his predicament graphically illustrates the sinner’s desperate plight. To sin against God is to rebel against His fatherhood, disdain His honor and respect, spurn His love, and reject His will. Unrepentant sinners shun all responsibility and accountability to God. They deny Him his place, hate Him, wish He did not exist, refuse to love Him, and dishonor Him. They take the gifts He has given them and squander them in a life of self-indulgence, dissipation, and unrestrained lust. As a result they find themselves spiritually bankrupt, empty, destitute, with no one to help, nowhere to turn, and facing eternal death. And when all the self-help strategies fail, the sinner hits rock bottom. There is only one solution for those who, like this young man, find themselves in such a situation, which the next scene in the parable reveals.
A SHAMEFUL REPENTANCE
But when he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired men have more than enough bread, but I am dying here with hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me as one of your hired men.”’ (15:17–19)
In the depths of his hopelessness and despair, the younger son, facing starvation, came to his senses and remembered his rich and generous father. “How many of my father’s hired men have more than enough bread, but I am dying here with hunger!” he reminded himself. This statement further reveals his knowledge of his father’s gracious, compassionate nature. Hired men were day laborers who were generally unskilled and poor, living day to day on the temporary jobs they could find at whatever wages they were offered (cf. Matt. 20:13–14). Recognizing the reality that such people would be part of society, the Old Testament law protected them and required their wages to be paid in a timely manner (cf. Lev. 19:13; Deut. 24:14–15). But as the son knew well and recalled, his father generously exceeded the requirements of the law by making sure that the men he hired had more than enough bread. That recollection gave him hope and, with no other option, with what the scribes and Pharisees would see as brash audacity, he decided to get up and go to his father. The worst that could happen would be no more severe than what he faced, but he hoped at least to be treated with the same mercy and compassion with which his father had always treated his day laborers.
With that in mind, he rehearsed a brief confession to offer when he arrived home: “Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me as one of your hired men.”’ The best he could have expected, after humbly confessing his shameful sin, was to be allowed to work toward restitution (cf. Matt. 18:26) of all he had wasted and after that hope to be reconciled with his father. The scribes and Pharisees would have agreed that he needed to confess, repent, be humiliated, shamed, and perhaps receive forgiveness and mercy, but only after making full restitution. In their thinking, people earn their way back from shame.
The younger son’s actions picture the kind of repentance that can lead to salvation. He came to his senses and realized that his situation was desperate. He remembered his father’s goodness, compassion, generosity, and mercy and trusted in them. In the same way, the repentant sinner takes stock of his situation and acknowledges his need to turn from his sin. He realizes that there is no one to turn to except the Father whom he has shamed and dishonored and by faith, with nothing to offer, turns to Him for forgiveness and reconciliation on the basis of His grace. The son acknowledged to his father that he had sinned against heaven (the Greek phrase could also suggest that he viewed his sins as piling up as high as heaven; cf. Ezra 9:6) and in his sight. In the same way the penitent sinner takes full responsibility for his sin and affirms its heinousness.
Repentance is the sinner’s part in the process of being restored to God, and there is no true gospel apart from it. The call for sinners to repent is at the heart of all biblical evangelism, beginning in the Old Testament (cf. Pss. 32:5; 51:1–4, 14, 17; Isa. 1:16–18; 55:6–7; Ezek. 18:30, 32; 33:19; Jonah 3:5–10). In the New Testament repentance was central to the gospel preaching of John the Baptist (Luke 3:3–9), Jesus (Matt. 4:17; Luke 5:32; 13:3, 5; 24:46–47), the apostles (Mark 6:12), and the early church (Acts 2:38; 3:19; 5:31; 8:22; 17:30; 20:21; 26:20; 2 Cor. 7:9–11). Repentance must not be misconstrued as a meritorious, pre-salvation work since, though required of the sinner, it must be granted by God (Acts 11:18; Rom. 2:4; 2 Tim. 2:25).
Assuming that he would have to work to make restitution, the younger son did not expect to be welcomed back immediately into the family as a son, or even as one of the household servants. He only hoped that his father would be willing to accept him as one of his hired men. His empty lifestyle had filled him with remorse for the past, pain in the present, and the bleak prospect of even more suffering in the future as he worked the rest of his life to earn acceptance. But as it turned out, he drastically underestimated his father.
THE FATHER
So he got up and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion for him, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet; and bring the fattened calf, kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.’ And they began to celebrate. (15:20–24)
Like the shameful story of his lost son, in the eyes of the religious leaders, the story of the father unfolds in three shameful stages: a shameful reception, a shameless reconciliation, and a shameless rejoicing.
A SHAMEFUL RECEPTION
So he got up and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion for him, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” (15:20–21)
Forced to his only option, the hopeful younger son got up and came to his father. The reception he was to receive was beyond his imagination, and shocked and stunned those legalists to whom the story was directed. The unexpected reception began to unfold while he was still a long way off. Before he entered the village Jesus said his father saw him, indicating that he had been watching, waiting, suffering silently, hoping himself that one day his shameful son would return. The scribes and Pharisees would have expected that if the son did return, the father, to maintain his own honor, would initially refuse to see him. Instead, he would make him sit in the village outside the gate of the family home for days in shame and disgrace. When he did finally grant his son an audience, it would be a cool reception as the son humbled himself before his father. He would be expected to tell his son what works he would need to perform to make full restitution for his prodigality, and for how long, before he could be reconciled as a son to his father. All of that was consistent with the rabbis’ teaching that repentance was a good work performed by sinners that could eventually earn God’s favor and forgiveness.
But that cultural expectation was shattered by Jesus when He said the father, on seeing his son, felt compassion for him, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. It was obviously represented as daylight, since he would not have been able to see his son at any great distance at night. The village would have been bustling with activity, and the father was determined to reach his son before he entered the village, with the intent to protect him from the shame of the taunts, scorn, and abuse that would be heaped upon him by the villagers as soon as they recognized him. The father’s compassion for his son spurred him into action before the abuse could start.
To the utter amazement of the Lord’s hearers, the details of the story convey that the father took the son’s shame upon himself and then immediately reconciled him to the full honor of sonship. Incredibly, this shameful humbling is seen in his eagerness to reach him, because he ran to meet his son. Middle Eastern noblemen do not run. And ran translates a form of the Greek verb trechō, which was used of running a race in 1 Corinthians 9:24 and 26. Determined to reach his son before he entered the village received the taunts of the town, the father literally sprinted to him. For a man of his status and importance to run in public was, and still is, unheard of. Running necessitated gathering up the long robes worn by men and women alike and thus exposing the legs, which was considered shameful. He became at that time the object of shame—taking shame on himself to prevent shame on his son. Even more shocking was what he did when he reached the prodigal; he embraced him despite his impoverished filthiness and the vile rags he wore and repeatedly kissed him. That gesture of acceptance, love, forgiveness, and reconciliation would have further shocked the scribes and Pharisees. Here in this father the Lord Jesus Christ presents Himself, the one who left the glory of heaven, came to earth and bore the shame and humility to embrace repentant sinners, who come to Him in faith, and give them complete forgiveness and reconciliation.
The son’s stunning reception by the horribly offended father took place solely by the grace of that father, apart from any works on the boy’s part. When he finally could speak and make his rehearsed speech, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son,” he left out the last crucial phrase, “make me as one of your hired men.” Why? Because there was no need to work to earn restoration and reconciliation. His father had received him back as a son. He did not have to crawl back one day at a time into his father’s good graces, but was instantly forgiven, given mercy, and already reconciled. The son’s reception is a true illustration of believers, who come in by repentance and faith directed toward God, pleading for His grace and forgiveness apart from works—and receiving full sonship.
A SHAMELESS RECONCILIATION
But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet; (15:22)
The father then gave visible evidence of his reconciliation with his son. His actions would have further shocked those listening to this story. They would have found it incomprehensible that he would lavish honors on the son who had shamed and dishonored him. Turning to the household slaves who had followed him as he ran to meet his son, he said first of all, “Quickly, without delay, bring out the best robe and put it on him.” The best or most important robe belonged to the patriarch, and was worn only on the most significant occasions. He was about to call for a grand, gala celebration, yet he gave his son the garment that he would normally have worn to such an event. The ring was the father’s signet ring, which bore the family crest and was used to stamp the wax seal on documents to authenticate them. It signified the father’s bestowing of privileges, rights, and authority on his son. Sandals, not usually worn by slaves, signified his full restoration to sonship. Just as the son returned to his father with nothing, so repentant, empty-handed sinners approach their heavenly Father, who justifies not the self-righteous, but the ungodly (Rom. 4:5).
The father’s giving the robe and ring to his younger son would have shocked Christ’s hearers. They knew that the robe and the ring by rights should have gone to the older brother. He would have first worn the father’s formal robe at his own wedding—the single greatest event that could happen in a family. He should have received the ring as a symbol of his right as the firstborn to act on behalf of his father. But now, incredibly, his father had given them to his younger brother. Such lavish love and grace bestowed on a penitent, trusting sinner is incomprehensible to the legalistic mind. Legalism hates grace.
A SHAMELESS REJOICING
and bring the fattened calf, kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.’ And they began to celebrate. (15:23–24)
Overjoyed at his son’s return, the father ordered his servants to prepare an extravagant celebration, dwarfing those of the shepherd who found his lost sheep (v. 6) and the woman who found her lost coin (v. 9). The fattened, grain-fed calf was reserved for events of utmost significance, such as the wedding of the firstborn son (cf. Matt. 22:2–4), or the visit of an important person (cf. 1 Sam. 28:24). By ordering his servants to prepare it so that the guests could eat and celebrate, the father revealed how important his son had become. Since a fattened calf could feed up to two hundred people, the entire village would have been invited. The shepherd had found an animal, the woman an inanimate object, and they celebrated with a few of their friends. But the father had found his son, who was dead and had come to life again; who was lost, but now had been found, and the entire village began to celebrate with him. All three celebrations reflect heaven’s joy at the divine recovery of lost sinners (see the discussion of that truth in the previous chapter of this volume). And this party, like the first two, in reality honored not the one found, but the finder, who sought his son and gave him full reconciliation through his merciful forgiveness and gracious love.
THE OLDER SON
Now his older son was in the field, and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. And he summoned one of the servants and began inquiring what these things could be. And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has received him back safe and sound.’ But he became angry and was not willing to go in; and his father came out and began pleading with him. But he answered and said to his father, ‘Look! For so many years I have been serving you and I have never neglected a command of yours; and yet you have never given me a young goat, so that I might celebrate with my friends; but when this son of yours came, who has devoured your wealth with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him.’ And he said to him, ‘Son, you have always been with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, for this brother of yours was dead and has begun to live, and was lost and has been found.’” (15:25–32)
Some, simplistically, have argued that the older son represents Christians, since he remained at home and was outwardly obedient to his father. In reality, however, he represents the apostate legalists, in the form of the scribes and Pharisees. The older son’s shameful role may be viewed under two headings: his truly shameful reaction, and his father’s perceived shameful response.
A SHAMEFUL REACTION
Now his older son was in the field, and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. And he summoned one of the servants and began inquiring what these things could be. And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has received him back safe and sound.’ But he became angry and was not willing to go in; and his father came out and began pleading with him. But he answered and said to his father, ‘Look! For so many years I have been serving you and I have never neglected a command of yours; and yet you have never given me a young goat, so that I might celebrate with my friends; but when this son of yours came, who has devoured your wealth with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him.’ (15:25–30)
The older son had been out in the field all day overseeing the workers and was unaware of his brother’s return and the subsequent party. When he came in from the field and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. That he knew nothing of the reconciliation and had not heard the sounds of the party earlier indicates the huge size of the family estate designed into the story. Surprised at finding a village-wide celebration in progress that he knew nothing about, he summoned one of the servants (perhaps one of the young boys hanging around the fringes of the party) and began inquiring what these things could be. He was not in the loop regarding the party, even though as the firstborn the responsibility for planning it should have fallen to him. Further, it was his resources, from his share of the estate, that were being used for the party, yet he had not been consulted. Legally, his father did not have to get his permission to use the resources, even though he had already dispersed to him the remaining two thirds of the estate. As noted above, the father retained control (according to the legal principle known as usufruct) of the estate as long as he lived. But his father’s failure to consult him indicates once again that the older brother had no relationship with him or his younger brother. In terms of his relationship to his family he was metaphorically, as well as literally, far away in a field.
The servant’s reply, “Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has received him back safe and sound,” should have filled him with joy that his brother had returned and his father was being properly honored for his generosity. Instead it outraged and infuriated him that his father had received the prodigal back at all. Even worse from his perspective was the realization that his father had already reconciled with his brother (the Greek word translated safe and sound is used in the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Old Testament, to refer to peace, not merely physical health), instead of making him work to make restitution for his waste and sin.
For years that older rebel had managed to conceal his true feelings of resentment toward his father and brother. All along, though, he had been wicked like his brother, only inwardly, not outwardly. But this event exposed his real attitude. In a burst of public display from long-cultivated private hatred, he became angry and was not willing to go in to celebrate with the others. He could not rejoice over the recovery of his lost brother because he had no love for his father. He failed to understand unmerited favor, free forgiveness, and deliverance from shame by the actions of the offended one endowed with the authority to forgive.
The scribes and Pharisees would have applauded his reaction. Finally, they must have thought, someone is upholding honor and acting righteously in anger over the son’s shameful sin and the father’s shameful forgiveness. They would have considered his father’s actions outrageous and shameful, in the same way they considered Christ’s associating with tax collectors and sinners wicked. And picturing them, the older son was a hypocritical legalist, doing what was expected of him on the outside, but inwardly filled with secret sins, such as bitterness, hatred, jealousy, anger, and lust (Matt. 23:28). The truth is, he was more profoundly and truly lost than his profligate younger brother, because he had spent his life convincing himself and others that he was good and morally upright. That made it impossible for him to acknowledge that he was in reality a wretched sinner. So it was with the scribes and Pharisees, they were “the righteous” that unlike “sinners” would not come to repentance (Matt. 9:13).
In contrast to their hard legalism and showing the same compassionate patience that he had toward his younger son, his father came out and began pleading with him to come to the celebration. The father’s action symbolized God in Jesus Christ pleading with sinners (cf. Ezek. 18:31; 33:11; Luke 19:10) to come to salvation. This yet again would have surprised the self-righteous Jews, who would have expected the older son to be honored for his unwillingness to mingle in a celebration for a sinner led by a host whose love overpowered his devotion to the law.
All of the older son’s pent up anger, bitterness, and resentment spilled out in a tirade that disregarded both his father’s honor and his brother’s blessing. Disrespectfully refusing to address him with the title “Father,” he bluntly said to his father, “Look! For so many years I have been serving (Douleuō; to serve as a slave) you.” To him, his many years of working under his father had been nothing but slavery. There was no love or respect for his father, merely toil and drudgery, waiting for him to die so he could inherit. It becomes clear that he wanted exactly what his younger brother wanted, all he could get of the estate for his own use, but chose a different path to obtaining it. Then, in a classic expression of self-righteous hypocrisy he declared, “I have never neglected a command of yours” (cf. Luke 18:21). Reflecting the amazing capacity for self-deception exhibited by hypocrites who think they are good, he lived under the illusion that he had never neglected any of his father’s commands. The implied contrast is between his supposedly perfect behavior and his father’s shameful behavior in his lenient treatment of his younger son. The older son saw himself as one of the “ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance” (Luke 15:7).
His outburst continued with allegations that his father had acted unfairly and unjustly. “You have never given me a young goat,” he complained, “so that I might celebrate with my friends.” First, he declared that he had not been celebrated for his legalism. Heaven never holds a party for a self-righteous man. The second implication is that the people who really mattered to him, those that he would like to party with, were his friends, not his family. That was reminiscent of the Pharisees, who associated only with other Pharisees. In addition to allegedly ignoring his faithful service, he accused his father of showing favoritism to his younger brother. Refusing to acknowledge him as his brother or even name him, he disdainfully, contemptuously referred to him as “this son of yours.” Then, painting the scene as black as he could, he reminded his father that his brother had devoured his wealth with prostitutes, and in spite of that, he had thrown a party to end all parties and killed the fattened calf for him.
The picture is striking. The legalistic older brother stood alone in the dark reviling his gracious father, who at the same time was being honored at the joyous celebration of his lost son’s recovery. His actions graphically picture the scribes and Pharisees. They were unrepentant, self-righteous, hypocritical externalists, choosing to revile and scorn Jesus Christ, God incarnate, for reconciling sinners whom all Jewish religious society had rejected, instead of joining the heavenly banquet with those praising God for their salvation.
A SHAMEFUL RESPONSE
And he said to him, “Son, you have always been with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, for this brother of yours was dead and has begun to live, and was lost and has been found.” (15:31–32)
The father’s gracious, gentle response would have been considered the last shameful act in the story by the villagers had they known of it (as it was by the scribes and Pharisees listening to the story). They would have expected him to slap his son across the face for his insolent outburst. Instead, he addressed him in tender, endearing terms, reasoning with him and reaching out to him with the same compassionate love and mercy he had shown to his younger son. The word translated son is not huios, the term used in verses 11, 13, 19, 21, 24, 25 and 30, but the more affectionate term teknon (“child”). “You have always been with me,” he reminded him, “and all that is mine is yours.” Although the father retained control over the estate, he had already given it to his son. Here is a picture of God’s magnanimity, especially to the Jews, who were given the Scripture, the most generous common grace, and years of gospel opportunity (cf. Rom. 9:4–5). God’s riches were given in greatest abundance and clarity to the Jews, and especially those very leaders who prided themselves on their knowledge of Scripture.
The father’s concluding statement, “But we had to celebrate and rejoice, for this brother of yours was dead and has begun to live, and was lost and has been found,” returns to the theme of all three parables in this chapter—God’s joy at recovering lost sinners. The younger son symbolizes those who seek God’s salvation by grace, the older son those who seek salvation by works.
I give a more complete account of this wonderful parable in my book A Tale of Two Sons (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2008). In that book I wrote the following regarding the shocking, real-life ending to Jesus’ parable:
With those words [v. 32], the parable of the prodigal son ended—but like a musical arrangement without a final, satisfying chord resolution. No more words, and Jesus simply walked away from the public venue where He was teaching. He moved into a more private context with His own disciples, where He began to tell them a whole new parable. The narrative reflects the shift in verse 33. “He also said to His disciples: ‘There was a certain rich man …’”
This is stunning. The ending is the thing in every story. We wait with anticipation for the finale. It’s so vital that some readers can’t resist turning to the end to see how the plot resolves before they read the actual story. But this story leaves us hanging. In fact, the Prodigal Son’s story ends so abruptly that a textual critic with a low view of Scripture might very well suggest that what we have here is just a story fragment, unaccountably unfinished by the author. Or is it more likely that the ending was written down but somehow separated from the original manuscript and lost forever? There surely must be an end to this story somewhere, right?
But the abruptness of the ending doesn’t leave us without the point; it is the point. This is the final blow in a long series of shocks that were built into Jesus’ telling of the story. Of all the surprising plot twists and startling details, this is the culminating surprise: Jesus marvelously shaped the point and then simply walked away without resolving the tension between the father and his firstborn. But there is no missing fragment. He intentionally left the story unfinished and the dilemma unsettled. It is supposed to make us feel like we’re waiting for a punch line or final sentence.
Surely the people in Jesus’ original audience were left standing with their mouths hanging open as He walked away. They must have asked one another the same question that is on the tip of our tongues when we read it today: What happened? How did the elder son respond? What is the end of the story? The Pharisees, of all people would want to know, because the elder son clearly represented them.
It’s easy to imagine that the guests in the story would be eager to hear how everything turned out. They were all still inside at the celebration, waiting for the father to come back inside. When he left the party so abruptly, people would conclude that something serious was going on. In a real-life situation such as this, it would begin to be whispered around among the guests that the elder brother was out there, very angry that people were celebrating something as reprehensible as the immediate, unconditional, wholesale forgiveness of a son who had behaved as badly as the prodigal. Everyone would want to study the father’s expression when he came back inside to try to detect some clue about what happened. That’s exactly our response, as listeners to Jesus’ story.
But with all that pent-up expectation, Jesus simply walked away, leaving the tale hanging, unfinished, unresolved.
Incidentally, Kenneth E. Bailey, a Presbyterian commentator who was fluent in Arabic and a specialist in Middle-Eastern literature (he spent forty years living and teaching the New Testament in Egypt, Lebanon, Jerusalem and Cyprus) provides a fascinating analysis of the literary style of the Prodigal Son’s story. The structure of the parable explains why Jesus left it unfinished. Bailey demonstrates that the parable divides naturally into two nearly equal parts, and each part is systematically structured in a kind of mirrored pattern (ABCD-DCBA) called a chiasm. It’s a kind of parallelism that seems practically poetic, but it is a typical device in Middle Eastern prose to facilitate storytelling.
The first half—where the focus is completely on the younger brother—has eight stanzas or strophes, and in this case the parallels describe the prodigal’s progress from departure to return:
Then He said: “A certain man had two sons.
A. Death—And the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the portion of goods that falls to me.’ So he divided to them his livelihood.
B. All Is Lost—And not many days after, the younger son gathered all together, journeyed to a far country, and there wasted his possessions with prodigal living. But when he had spent all, there arose a severe famine in that land, and he began to be in want.
C. Rejection—Then he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country, and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would gladly have filled his stomach with the pods that the swine ate, and no one gave him anything.
D. The Problem—But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger!
D. The Solution—I will arise and go to my father, and will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, and I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants.” And he arose and came to his father.
C. Acceptance—But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him.
B. All Is Restored—And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight, and am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his servants, ‘Bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet.
A. Resurrection—And bring the fatted calf here and kill it, and let us eat and be merry; for this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ And they began to be merry.”
The second half shifts focus to the elder brother and progresses through a similar chiastic pattern. But it ends abruptly after the seventh strophe:
A. He Stands Aloof—“Now his older son was in the field. And as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked what these things meant.
B. Your Brother; Peace (a feast); Anger—And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and because he has received him safe and sound, your father has killed the fatted calf.’ But he was angry and would not go in.
C. Costly Love—Therefore his father came out and pleaded with him.
D. My Actions, My Pay—So he answered and said to his father, ‘Lo, these many years I have been serving you; I never transgressed your commandment at any time; and yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might make merry with my friends.
D. His Actions, His Pay—‘But as soon as this son of yours came, who has devoured your livelihood with harlots, you killed the fatted calf for him.’
C. Costly Love—And he said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that I have is yours.
B. Your Brother; Safe (a feast); Joy!—It was right that we should make merry and be glad, for your brother was dead and is alive again, and was lost and is found.’”
A. The Missing Ending
The end of the parable is deliberately asymmetrical, as if to put extra stress on the lack of resolution. The ending simply isn’t there.
We’re supposed to notice that. Since the story stops abruptly with such a tender appeal, every hearer ought to take that plea to heart, meditate on it, personalize it, and see the gentle reasonableness of embracing the father’s joy in the salvation of sinners. And, frankly, no one needed that sort of honest self-examination more than the legalistic scribes and Pharisees to whom Jesus told the story. The parable was an invitation first of all for them to forsake their pride and self-righteousness and reconcile with God’s way of salvation. But furthermore, the same principle applies to everyone else, too—from wanton sinners like the Prodigal Son to sanctimonious hypocrites like the elder brother, and all kinds of people in between. Thus everyone who hears the story writes his or her own ending by how we respond to the kindness of God toward sinners.
It is an ingenious way to end the story. It leaves us wanting to pen the ending we would like to see. Anyone whose heart is not already hardened by self-righteous resentment ought to apprehend in the parable something about the glory of God’s grace in Christ—especially His loving forgiveness and glad-hearted acceptance of penitent sinners. The person who catches even a glimpse of that truth would surely want to write something good—like this:
Then the elder son fell on his knees before his father, saying, “I repent for my bitter, loveless heart, for my hypocritical service, and for my pride and self-righteousness. Forgive me, Father. Make me a true son, and take me inside to the feast.” The father then embraced his firstborn son, smothered him with tearful, grateful kisses, took him inside, and seated him alongside his brother in dual seats of honor. They all rejoiced together and the level of joy [at] that already amazing celebration suddenly doubled. No one there would ever forget that night.
That would be the perfect ending. But I can’t write the ending for anyone else—including the scribes and Pharisees. They wrote their own ending, and it was nothing at all like that one.
THE TRAGIC ENDING
Don’t forget that Jesus told this parable—including the abrupt ending—chiefly for the benefit of the scribes and Pharisees. It was really a story about them. The elder brother represented them. The hanging resolution underscored the truth that the next move was theirs. The father’s final tender plea was Jesus’ own gentle appeal to them. If they had demanded to know the end of the parable on the spot, Jesus might well have said to them, “That is up to you.” The Pharisees’ ultimate response to Jesus would write the end of the story in real-life.
We therefore know how the tale really ended, then, don’t we? It is not a happy ending. Instead, it’s another shocking plot turn. In fact, it is the greatest shock and outrage of all time.
They killed Him.
Since the father figure in the parable represents Christ and the elder brother is a symbol of Israel’s religious elite, in effect, the true ending to the story, as written by the scribes and Pharisees themselves, ought to read something like this: “The elder son was outraged at his father. He picked up a piece of lumber and beat him to death in front of everyone.”
I told you it was a shocking ending.
You may be thinking to yourself, No! That’s not how the story ends. I grew up hearing that parable in Sunday school, and it’s not supposed to have a tragic ending.
Indeed, it seems like any rational person whose mind and heart is not utterly twisted by his own sanctimonious hypocrisy would listen to such a parable with deep joy and holy thankfulness for the generous grace that lifts a fallen sinner up, restores him to wholeness, and receives him again into his father’s favor. Any humble-hearted individual who sees himself reflected in the Prodigal would naturally enter into the father’s joy and celebration, rejoicing that Jesus would paint such a vivid portrait of divine grace. As we’ve seen from the very start, the clear message of the parable is about how eagerly Jesus receives sinners. It should end with joy, not tragedy. Everyone should join the celebration.
But the elder brother’s heart was clearly (albeit secretly until now) hardened against his father. He had stored up years worth of resentment, anger, greed, and self-will—while wearing his father’s favor as a badge of legitimacy. He never really understood or appreciated his father’s goodness to him; but he was happy to receive it and milk it for whatever he could get out of it. He completely misinterpreted his father’s kindness, thinking it was proof of his own worthiness; when in reality it was an expression of the father’s goodness. And as soon as the father showed such lavish favor to the utterly unworthy prodigal brother, the elder brother’s resentment quickly boiled over and his true character could not be concealed any longer.
Remember, the elder brother is a picture of the Pharisees. His attitude mirrored theirs exactly. If the elder son’s behavior seems appalling and hard to understand for you and me, it was not at all hard to understand for the Pharisees. They were steeped in a religious system that cultivated precisely that kind of self-righteous, self-congratulatory, self-willed perspective with respect to the goodness and grace of God. They believed they had God’s favor because they had earned it, pure and simple. So when Jesus showed favor to repentant tax collectors, prostitutes, and other lowlifes who clearly did not deserve any favor, the Pharisees resented it. They believed Jesus’ kindness toward lowly sinners took the sheen off the emblem of their superiority, and they became angry in precisely the same way the elder son became angry.
Does it not seem remarkable that when Jesus brought his telling of the parable to such an abrupt halt—leaving off the ending completely—Luke’s account is utterly silent regarding any kind of response from the Pharisees? They knew full well that the message of the parable was aimed at them and ought to have shamed them. But they asked no questions, made no protest, offered no commentary, asked for no further elaboration. The reason is that they understood the elder brother’s attitude already. It made perfect sense to them. Perhaps they didn’t even feel the lack of resolution to the same degree most listeners do, because to them the elder brother’s complaint seemed perfectly reasonable. The way they would have liked to see the story resolved required the father’s repentance. In their ideal scenario, the father would see the elder son’s point, make a public apology to the elder son, publicly shame the Prodigal for his foolish behavior, and then perhaps even cast the Prodigal out forever. But the Pharisees surely saw the point Jesus was making clearly enough that they knew the story would never take a turn like that.
So they said nothing—at least nothing Luke (guided by the Holy Spirit) deemed important enough to record for us. Perhaps they simply turned and walked away. More likely, Jesus turned away from them.
In fact, let’s assume there’s no ellipsis at this point in the chronology of Luke’s narrative. Luke 15 ends where the parable of the Prodigal Son ends. But Luke 16 continues with Jesus still speaking. This seems to be the record of one lengthy discourse. And in Luke 16:1, Jesus does indeed turn away from the scribes and Pharisees “to the disciples,” and He begins to instruct them with another parable. This one is about the shrewdness of unbelievers and the impossibility of serving both God and money. Luke 16:14 says, “Now the Pharisees, who were lovers of money, also heard all these things, and they derided Him”—meaning they ridiculed Him.
So apparently they hung around, perhaps just on the periphery, after the parable of the Prodigal Son abruptly ended, undeterred in their opposition to Jesus. In fact, they were more determined than ever to silence Him, no matter what it took. And that attitude is what led them to write for themselves the tragic ending to the greatest parable of all time.
The Pharisees’ hatred for Jesus grew from the day he told them the parable until they hatched a conspiracy to kill Him. “And the chief priests and the scribes sought how they might take Him by trickery and put Him to death” (Mark 14:1). In the end, they secured the grudging cooperation of the Roman authorities, and even the collusion of Herod—and they had Him crucified.
Christ’s death on the cross occurred at their urging just a few months after this encounter in Luke 15. Then they congratulated themselves on a righteous act that they were certain would preserve the honor of Israel and the true religion they believed was embodied in their beloved traditions.
THE GLORIOUS SEQUEL
Here is the divine irony: when they did their worst, they accomplished God’s best (Acts 2:22; 2 Corinthians 5:21; Isaiah 53). But even Jesus’ death was not the end of the story. No grave could hold Jesus in its grip. He rose from the dead, signifying that He had conquered sin, guilt, and death once and for all. His dying on the cross finally produced the effectual blood atonement that had been shrouded in mystery for all the ages, and His resurrection was the proof that God accepted it.
Jesus’ death therefore provided for us what the blood of bulls and goats could never accomplish: a full and acceptable atonement for sin. And His perfect righteousness gives us precisely what we need for our redemption: a complete covering of perfect righteousness equal to God’s own divine perfection.
So there is true and blessed resolution to the story after all.
THE OPEN INVITATION
The invitation to be part of the great celebratory banquet is still open to all. It extends even to you, dear reader. And it doesn’t matter whether you are an open sinner like the Prodigal Son, a secret one like his elder brother, or someone with characteristics from each type. If you are someone who is still estranged from God, Christ urges you to acknowledge your guilt, admit your own spiritual poverty, embrace your heavenly Father, and be reconciled to Him (2 Corinthians 5:20).
And the Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” And let him who hears say, “Come!” And let him who thirsts come. Whoever desires, let him take the water of life freely. (Revelation 22:17)
Now, enjoy the celebration. (pp. 189–98. Emphasis in original.)