I love Jesus' parable popularly known as "The Prodigal Son." Although the essence of the story related in the 15th chapter of Luke (verses 11-32) is familiar to so many, there is no shortage of layers to explore and lessons to be learned from this simple narrative. Which lesson stands out may depend on one's perspective at any given moment. And if we are to understand Jesus' message, it helps to understand his audience. One reason Jesus spoke in parables was so the stories would be remembered and retold—even when the message was not totally understood. As a story such as this is retold to ever broadening and more receptive audiences, it seems reasonable that the lessons learned deepen and expand.

The scene for Jesus' telling of the prodigal's story is set as indignant scribes and Pharisees are having a fit over the fact that tax collectors and sinners have been hanging around listening to Jesus. He welcomed—even ate with—them! But who were the scribes and Pharisees? And why did they hate the tax collectors and sinners so much?

The Pharisees and scribes were the voice of tradition. As lawyers, scribes interpreted and taught Mosaic law in accordance with strict literal interpretation. The very name Pharisee comes from the Hebrew word paras, meaning "to separate." Pharisees lived in separate communities and believed that to have contact with the lower class of "sinners" defiled them. The more offensive portion of this lower class were the socially outcast—those who deliberately and persistently transgressed the requirements of the law. These included tax collectors (who betrayed their own people by collecting taxes from them and becoming wealthy as a result) and prostitutes. They were what the Old Testament calls the "wicked," unworthy to be part of the people of God.

Jesus taught of the joy in heaven over one sinner who repents (see Luke 15:7). The fact that repentance wasn't a requirement for earning Jesus' love may have infuriated the Pharisees more than anything. They looked forward to the destruction of the sinner, rather than his salvation, as William Barclay puts it in his book The Gospel of Luke. Absolutely antipathetic toward prophets, the Pharisees were totally blind to and baffled by the spiritual lessons Jesus taught. This self-righteous, intolerant group of Pharisees and scribes was Jesus' audience as he began speaking the parable. But the "sinners" were also present, and certainly the stories he told must have been of great comfort to them. One wonders if the Pharisees even got his point. Did they feel the discomfort that this parable should have instilled in them?

Jesus shared three parables that day—the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the prodigal son. Although they're similarly themed, the message of the third goes to a new level. Unlike the sheep that wandered (innocently) and the coin that was accidently dropped (through no fault of its own), the prodigal son deliberately departed from his father's house. In the Pharisees' eyes, this was the path sinners chose. Like the elder brother in the story, they would have felt that this younger son deserved all the trouble he experienced, and there was no reason to welcome him home. That, of course, is not the spirit of the story.

But did the Pharisees recognize themselves in the character of the elder brother? Did they get it?

A lot of us seem to identify with the younger brother. How often do we stray from our Father's house—from the divine consciousness—because we don't appreciate all we have there. We intentionally walk away from all the good that God is providing, believing we can do better if we take control. The suggestions come that there is more fun, more prosperity, more fame, more good, greater opportunity for happiness, someplace else—that we know more about what is good for us than God. There is really nothing in the parable to indicate that the younger son did anything terribly wrong, although he was impatient, and asking for his inheritance early was irregular and a sign of disrespect, since he was treating his father as if he were already dead. He then spent his inheritance recklessly.

A variety of words are used in Bible translations to describe this "reckless living": undisciplined, wild ("uncontrolled"), riotous ("abundant"), prodigal ("spending lavishly or foolishly"), and loose (from restraint). The young man did not use good judgment. Maybe he lived under the misconception that his good fortune would never run out. Maybe he simply fell prey to a false sense of security based on material wealth. Maybe he fell victim to peer pressure. It seems safe to say that he was guilty of being self-absorbed.

Then famine hit. Feeling he had no other choice, the prodigal did what a Talmudic proverb cursed a man for doing—he fed pigs. But, finally, he "came to himself." He remembered who he was. With humility, he was willing to return to his father as a hired servant, going from the highest position in the family to the lowest. A hired servant was a day laborer, not part of the family at all—subject to the insecurity of knowing that at any time he could be dismissed. The son returned, feeling cursed, hoping for mercy, but never expecting the generosity that greeted him.

Might this contrition and humility have been part of Jesus' message to both the Pharisees and the sinners—and those who would be touched by this story in future generations? By his example of keeping company with all, and simply demonstrating the Father's unconditional love, Jesus illustrated the importance of allowing everyone to "come to" themselves when ready.

Symbolically, the father represents God. But what a marvelous model for compassionate parenting. The father must have been watching for his son because he saw him while he was still a long way off and ran to him. A grown man didn't run in ancient Palestine. It was totally undignified and unbecoming, and wasn't done! But, in this case, the joy of seeing his returning son caused him to abandon propriety. Did Jesus intentionally cast his characters to be in sharp contrast with the preconceptions of the Pharisees? I wouldn't be surprised. As Esau kissed Jacob (see Gen. 33:4) and David kissed Absalom in forgiveness (see II Sam. 14:33), the father in this story fell on his son's neck and kissed him.

The son's first word was, respectfully, "Father." Sensing the depth of his son's repentance, the father interrupted his son mid-sentence, and demonstrated his unconditional love by calling for a robe with which to bestow honor on him, and shoes. Servants didn't wear shoes. Also, the act of slipping a ring on the prodigal's finger, reinstated the authority of sonship. Jesus' audience would likely have remembered Pharaoh's placing of his signet ring on Joseph's hand generations earlier, investing Joseph with full power in his kingdom (see Gen. 41:41, 42). Unlike most days, there would be meat—the finest—at dinner. This was a very special celebration!

The father invited everyone to join in. The indignant elder brother excluded himself. Although the return of the prodigal didn't lessen the elder brother's status in the family, he refused to join in the celebration. As the father had gone to the younger, he went to the elder. But rather than show respect, this son started a self-righteous attack with something along the lines of "Look here, ...!" The father's response? A reassurance that nothing was being taken from him. Love for one didn't diminish the love or good available to another.

The elder son may have physically remained at home, but his heart was now—and probably had been—far away. In talking to his father, he referred to the prodigal as "your son" rather than "my brother." Being a son meant also being a brother. This rejection of his brother screamed an equal rejection of his father. His playing the "it's not fair" card didn't hurt anyone else, but it did cheat him of what could have been precious relationships. The kingdom that Jesus spoke of was a kingdom of relationships—to God and to one another. It was one into which all were welcome. The Pharisees didn't see it that way. Their loss!

The father is the real hero of the story. Looking at the parable from his perspective makes it easy to understand why some would prefer to title it "The Loving Father." Responding to the individual needs of his sons, the father patiently embraced and loved them both, but allowed each to respond to that love individually. The self-serving indignation of the elder son didn't prevent the father from reaching out to him, or from reestablishing a full relationship with the previously self-absorbed younger son.

Whether viewed from the standpoint of the prodigal, the elder son, the father, or the servants who brought out the robe, ring, and shoes, and enabled the celebration to happen, this parable has rich lessons. No wonder some call it the greatest story ever told. It's one I believe we must continue to tell and learn from.

ICSS