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| The Return of the Prodigal Son - Rembrandt |
In our Sunday school program, Godly Play, we say that
parables are not easy to open. You have
to be ready to get inside a parable. Parables are easy to break, but they are hard
to open. On the face of it, today’s
parable may seem easy to open. It is
probably the best known of Jesus’ parables, perhaps the greatest story ever
told. Our familiarity with it, however,
may present the greatest barrier to opening it without breaking it. Finding
ourselves on the inside of the parable requires imagination and
vulnerability. Let’s see if we can open
it.
There is more than one way to open a parable, as indicated
by the various ways this parable has been described. Tradition refers to it as the parable of the
prodigal son. One of our greatest living
preachers, Barbara Brown Taylor, calls it the parable of the dysfunctional
family. Brother Andrew Marr calls it the
parable of the prodigal father. They are
all correct. I’d like to add another possibility: the parable of the brothers’ rivalry.
Understanding their rivalry requires an act of
imagination. To begin, imagine the
situation in which Jesus tells this parable.
He is teaching in the synagogue, or perhaps outside the synagogue to accommodate
the crowd that has gathered. Many of
those assembled to hear him would not have been allowed to enter the synagogue
because of ritual impurity. So Jesus
goes out to them. The religious
authorities begin to grumble that Jesus defiles himself by associating with
such people. The scribes and Pharisees
are genuinely curious about Jesus, but see the crowd as unworthy competitors
for his attention. There is tension in
the air. Jesus picks up on this
tension, and tells this parable in response.
This is our first
clue that rivalry may be an interpretive key to this
story.
Imagine also, that Jesus is commenting on a particular set
of texts appointed for that day. For
more than 100 years before Jesus, the books of Moses, the first five books of
what we call the Old Testament, had been divided into 150 sections so that they
could be read in their entirety over a three-year cycle. More recently, readings from sections of the
Prophets had been added. So, Jesus would
not have been commenting on a text at random, but would have been commenting on
the appointed lessons.[i]
Some scholars have suggested that Jesus may well have been
commenting on Genesis 46:28 – 47:31 and Ezekiel 37:15-28. Both readings are about the resolution of
sibling rivalries. The Genesis text is
about Joseph being reunited with his father, Jacob, and his brothers; brothers
who had previously left him for dead before selling him into slavery. Ezekiel prophesies that the divided tribes of
Judah and Joseph will be reunited into one kingdom in which God would make his
dwelling place. Interestingly, these are
the readings appointed for the feast of the rededication of Temple. The Temple was thought to be God’s dwelling
place, and its purpose was to offer ritual sacrifices to guarantee reconciliation
with God.
So what is at issue in these readings is rivalry and reconciliation,
and the stories are read in the midst of a tense rivalry among the people who
have come to hear Jesus. Like any good rabbi,
Jesus responds with a midrash on the texts:
he interprets the stories in terms of another story: a parable about
sibling rivalry.
Now, imagine the dynamic driving the parable’s
storyline. Have you ever wondered why
the younger son left home in the first place?
Years ago when I lived in Chicago, I worked with homeless youth. These were not bad kids. They didn’t have many options available to
them, and didn’t always make the best choices among the options they had. But I’ll tell you one thing: they generally had very good reasons for leaving
home. I imagine this younger son had his
reasons too.
Given the context, my guess is that he was having a serious
conflict with his older brother. Maybe
it was about their inheritance. It isn’t
like siblings never fight about that, right?
Maybe the younger brother was tired of living in the shadow of his
“perfect” sibling; never measuring up, never feeling good enough. Maybe the older brother resented the
attention lavished on the “baby” of the family.
Maybe the younger brother was just tired of living with such a
self-righteous, uptight prig. We don’t
know. The parable doesn’t tell us. But we can imagine.
This is the Bible, after all, and the Bible is chock-full of
sibling rivalries: Cain and Abel, Jacob
and Esau, Joseph and his brothers, Moses and Aaron, Solomon’s sons who divide
the kingdom of Israel. And it isn’t just
a brother problem, although the patriarchal character of scripture gives far
less air-time to other rivalries: Sarah
and Hagar, Leah and Rachel, Tamar and her brother, Judah. It’s all there, all the ways we find to set
ourselves against one another.
In fact, it is not too much to say that rivalry, distorted
desire marked by envy and resentment, is the fundamental human problem
according to the Bible. I want what you
have. I need to protect what I
have. From rivalry for the objects of
our desire flows violence, even death, and the lies we tell to justify our
violent conflicts.
Does this seem far-fetched?
I’m an only child. I am told that
when I was a young boy, I would hide my favorite toys before my cousins came
over to play. Today, I can own the ways
in which I have viewed my husband as a rival for my son’s affection: my secret
desire to be the favorite parent (after all, I was the favorite son – and
grandson, I might add). I am told that
husbands can become intensely jealous of the attention their wives give to
their newborn children, leaving the women feeling like they are caring for two
needy babies!
The rivalry of parents in relationship to their children
isn’t always a laughing matter, as any parent or child who has lived through a
divorce can testify. And sibling
rivalries for the attention of parents can last a lifetime, sometimes irrupting
explosively when an elderly parent becomes ill and dies.
These dynamics play out in the workplace and the wider
community as well. When I leave for sabbatical, will the congregation have
buyer’s remorse if they decide they prefer the sabbatical priest to me? Is the new rector in town a better preacher? Such insecurities fuel envy and
resentment. We only need look at the
current election cycle to see how tensions and resentments between races and
social classes are nurtured and exploited for political gain. Interpersonal rivalries and social rivalries
create division and death at every level of our common life. Bible stories about brothers killing each
other, and nations descending into civil war, are like mirrors in which we see
ourselves all too clearly.
So, when I hear the older brother in today’s parable says to
his father, “this son of yours” and not, “my brother,” I’ve got to believe
there is a backstory. Maybe the younger
son who ran away from home isn’t just a bad apple. Maybe he was a victim of a rivalry that drove
him out. Maybe his return is an
opportunity for reconciliation.
James Alison suggests that Jesus identifies himself with the
younger son, providing an illustration of his own mission of
reconciliation. Remember that this
younger son’s return is the occasion for a feast, much as Joseph, a younger
son, provides food for his family during a famine after their reunion. And the younger son of the parable, like
Joseph, was thought dead; but is alive.
Jesus, too, will die the death of a rebellious son, but will be alive
again, much as the dry bones of Ezekiel’s vision come to life and form a reunited
kingdom. The one who was dead, the
victim of rivalry, is resurrected and offers the possibility of reconciliation.
Through his dying and rising, Jesus, like the younger son,
reveals to us a God who is pure compassion.
It was not the father who drove out the son to begin with, but rather who
continues to give of his substance, his very life, so that the son may
live. This father prepares a feast, a
celebration of new life, and welcomes the older brother, forgiving his rivalry
with the younger brother. This older
brother, too, is provided for out of the substance, the very life, of the
father. It is freely given, and always
has been his. The invitation to
reconciliation is now in his hands. How
will he respond?
Opening the parable requires an act of imagination. Entering into it also requires an act of
vulnerability, allowing the parable to open us, so that we can receive its
meaning and its promise. How are we in
rivalry with others? How have envy and
resentment distorted our desires, cutting us off from our own brothers and
sisters? What have the consequences
been for us and for them? Do we trust
that God is an unconditional source of life, forgiveness, and
reconciliation? Are we willing, like
Jesus, to identify with the victims of our rivalry, to enter into their
suffering and courageously show them the way back to the party that God is
throwing for them? Will we invite our
older brother to the party? Will we
accept the invitation?
It is easy to break a parable. It is hard to open it, and to stay open.
[i]
James Alison, “He opened up to them
everything in the Scriptures concerning himself” (Luke 24:27b): How can we recover Christological and
Ecclesial habits of Catholic Bible Reading? at http://www.jamesalison.co.uk/texts/eng49.html. Alison offers a brilliant reading of the parable,
illuminating the scriptural background upon which Jesus was very likely
commenting.
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