Reflections on the Parable of the Prodigal Son

The parable of the prodigal son is probably one of the most famous in all of the
Gospels, and is perhaps the most reflected on, commented upon, and written about.
It is indeed a beautiful parable and perhaps the thousand and one reflections,
commentaries, exegetical, and hermeneutical works have already done much
justice to its depths and riches. But as I once again reflected upon it, it continued to
yield so much more, and would perhaps continue to do so even after I myself begin
to feel that I have already plumbed and exhausted all of its levels of meaning. As it
is, in the couple more hours I recently spent re-reading and studying it, I had a few
more insights.

My first reflection touches upon the older brother and what I would impute upon him
as his sins of omission. The younger brother, as it were, was guilty of sins of
commission: he asked for what was not yet due him, his father was very much alive;
he left his father’s house perhaps not wishing to take care of him in his old age; and
then again he squandered the inheritance in loose living.

But the older brother, was equally guilty of sins of omission. He did not intervene
with the younger brother when he asked for the inheritance perhaps because he
himself was a silent accomplice: the text says that the Father “divided the property
between them.” He also did not stop his brother from leaving perhaps because he
felt it was pretty much good riddance. Finally, he seemed to have learned what his
younger brother was about after he left to a far country; he said so that the latter
“swallowed up your property with prostitutes,” but he never told his father earlier.

Which brings me to pose what I think is a very important question in Community in

the context of the parable: Is fraternal correction a Christian obligation or simply an
option? When a brother does wrong and we do not correct him, are we not behaving
like the older brother?

My second reflection touches upon what one may term to be a curiosity, but which
may shed a little more light upon some issues we often have in Community. There
are three kinds or species of animals mentioned in the parable: the fatted calf, the
kid goat, and the banned pigs. As I reflected upon these three barnyard livestock, I
had an inspiration from some of the commentaries I had read.

It is said that when the father ordered the slaughter of the fatted calf for the
homecoming party of the wayward son, he wanted to make a point. He wanted the
entire Community to welcome back in its arms his long-lost son – and thus for the
Community to remain open, inclusive, forgiving, and maturing. Jean Vanier claimed
that a Community cannot grow if it does not have difficult members. The returning
son had violated and rejected the Community’s vision and mission, charisms, and
values and norms. Welcoming the lost member back would indeed be difficult, if not
painful, but welcome him we must, if we are to mature both as individuals and as a
body.
The kid goat, on the other hand, which the older son protested he had never been
given to party with his friends, may be seen to represent a closed, exclusive, fit-in,
juvenile peer group. Thus the older son himself had no sense of true Community
which his father wanted to foster. He was thinking primarily of his narrow circle of
friends, of spending good times together, of keeping unwanted characters away
(such as his younger brother). His refusal to “enter the house” so that the “father
came out and pleaded with him,” says as much.

Lastly, the banned pigs, which the younger brother was forced to tend, was perhaps
representative of a lawless, aimless, senseless, and formless mob. After all, in the
famous episode of the Gergesene demoniac, this was precisely what happened to
the herd of swine as soon as Jesus commanded the “legion” of demons to go to
them: they plunged into and drowned posthaste in the lake. In another instance,
Jesus told the disciples not to “cast pearls among swine lest they trample them
underfoot.” It was only too well that the younger brother had the good sense that
he did not belong to such company. This is eloquent testimony of our need for
genuine Community.

And so the question I wish to pose again here is simple: With what and with whom
do we celebrate on our tables? Are we a genuine Community or are we still just a
gathering of interrelated peer groups? The Lord help us if we remain a mob, and
which we can easily turn into if we are not careful.

The third point I wish to reflect on is with regards to the choice of status that we are
enjoined to take on: sonship or servanthood. It is noteworthy that God calls us his
children, and that we all belong to his household, much like the two brothers in their
father’s house. But in truth, we are servants, and it is only by the grace of Christ
that we are now co-heirs with him. However, it is not really that easy to shake off
the yoke of slavery, as the parable so succinctly show us.

Like the younger son, many of us desire to leave the father’s house perhaps
desiring to be free of the father’s oversight, of his doting care and protection. But
the problem is the sooner we are away from his loving arms, the sooner we plunge
in dissolute living. It is only then that we realize that the servants of the father seem
better off than we are: “My father’s hired hands have more than enough to eat.”
The fruit of turning away from God, of leaving his household, is always a form of
slavery: a “slavery to sin and death,” as St. Paul would put it.

The older son is not much better. He did stay at the father’s house, but deep inside
he was probably seething, because he secretly envied what his brother was about
squandering the inheritance, even while he could not bring himself to enjoy such
liberties. He felt confined in his father’s house, attending to his father’s estate, but
which was already his by virtue of the earlier division of the property. And he felt he
was being treated like a servant: “All these years I slaved for you…” through no
fault of the father: “All that I have is yours.” The fruit of turning away from a
brother, of indulging in what a friend calls “stinking thinking,” is also another form
of slavery.

We are called to be God’s daughters and sons, but we often regard ourselves as
only his hired hands. The Father calls us to Community, to celebrate our
togetherness, but it often seems we would rather keep our distance from one
another and carry about our hurts sulking within ourselves.

Thus the last question I wish to pose is: What are the things that continue to
enslave us, to lock us in patterns of relationships that are inwardly sinful and
mutually hurting, deeply resentful and reciprocally unforgiving? How can we really
make our Community a safe place, a free estate for everyone?