A prodigal prism

The parable of the prodigal son is one of the richest passages in scripture. No matter how many times you’ve read it or listened to it, you can find something new. The parable is like a lens with many surfaces, a prism you can hold up to your eye and look through to find a new perspective—a new perspective on grace, on family, on sin, on forgiveness, on responsibility.

Here’s one glimpse through the prism:

The parable is the story of a father. A bit foolish, perhaps. A father who gives his beloved younger son too much too soon and loses him to all the temptations of wealth. A father who grieves and carries on. A father who always has an eye on the horizon, praying, hoping that his son will come back to him. And when his prayers are answered, a father who runs to his son, kisses him, forgives even before he’s asked to forgive, and throws a huge party.

If you look at the Gospel citation in your bulletin, you’ll notice that a few verses were left out. In those verses, Jesus tells two other great parables about recovering that which is lost.

“Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my lost sheep.’”

“Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? And when she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’”

A shepherd, a woman, and a father—all rejoicing at the recovery of a lost treasure. A sheep. A coin. A son.

Stories of God’s boundless grace. Stories of hope and return and reconciliation.

And maybe also a model for how we too ought to forgive.

* * *

But let’s turn the prism just a bit:

Now we see the older brother, loyal and hard working. Hard working, but jealous. Jealous of his father’s generosity to his undeserving sibling. Frustrated. Shouting to his father to listen.

“Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!”

“This son of yours,” he says. “This son of yours.” Not “This brother of mine.”

Have you ever seen yourself in the older brother? Have you ever found yourself complaining that you’ve worked hard? That it’s unfair for another to get so easily what you sweated and labored for?

There are echoes here of another of Jesus’s parables, this one from the Gospel of Matthew. The owner of a vineyard goes into the town square several times throughout the day, from early morning until late afternoon. At each visit, he hires new workers. When the end of the day comes, he pays them each a full day’s wage. Those hired in the early morning complain. After all, they did more work than the last to arrive. The owner of the vineyard tells them that they received what they were owed and that they’re wrong to be angry at his generosity to others.

A hard-working older son, workers who have borne the heat of the day. Good people. Responsible. But resentful of grace given to another.

* * *

Let’s turn the prism one more time:

Let’s turn the lens to see the younger son. The prodigal, we call him.

Irresponsible. Wasteful. Going off in search of adventure—but forgetting all good sense. Forgetting himself. And then finding himself in a distant country in a time of famine. Hired to feed pigs—animals considered unclean in the place where he grew up. So hungry that he dreams of sitting down among the pigs to share their meager food.

But then he comes to himself. And he makes up his mind to go home.

“I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.’”

He goes home and finds what he never dared hope for. Not just bread to eat. But love. Forgiveness. Grace. A father who hugs him before he can get through his long-rehearsed apology. A father who dresses him in a robe and ring and sandals and orders a feast prepared to celebrate his return.

A happy ending.

Also a story of courage. The younger son showed a courage many people never find. The courage to see the world for what it is. The courage to admit he was wrong. The courage to face his shame. The courage to go home.

Even in those moments when we realize we’ve taken the wrong path, it can be so very tempting to stay in the place that path has led us to. Shame. The refusal to see. Hope that we can somehow find an easier way out. These are all things that can keep us trapped with the prodigal son among the pigs.

God’s grace is always there for the asking. But asking takes courage.

Reconciliation with those we’ve hurt is possible. But that also requires courage.

* * *

A parable of grace, forgiveness, and reconciliation. A parable that reminds us how hard those things can be to achieve.

One parable. Three lenses. Do you see yourself through any of them?