Learning to Say Father Again

For as different as they may seem at first, the two sons in Jesus’ famous parable have something important in common.

We’ve usually called it the Parable of the Prodigal Son, which immediately places the emphasis on the younger son and his prodigality, or carelessness. Disrespecting his father by demanding his inheritance early, the younger son flits off to a foreign land where he promptly squanders it all. And without a plan, he’s suddenly exposed to hardship. His work as a farmhand won’t secure his well-being during a famine; neither can he satisfy his hunger with the animal feed. So he pines for home, where at least he knows there is food enough for laborers. Facing his shame, he throws himself on his father’s mercy, hopeful that he may yet survive, albeit as a pariah: “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.” Of course, there is a surprise ending– the prodigal son could never have dreamed of the welcome he receives upon returning home.

But that isn’t quite the end of the story, is it? We might just as well call it the Parable of the Bitter Elder Son. He comes home that evening, too, although not from an extended absence; the elder son’s return is from yet another backbreaking day working his father’s remaining land. And apparently no one has thought to inform him of his brother’s homecoming until the party is well underway. This proves to be the proverbial straw that breaks the camel’s back.

“Listen!” he begins his tirade against his father– notice that the first word out of his mouth is not “Father,” but “Listen!” Then he unleashes a torrent of self-righteous fury: I’ve labored faithfully for you all these years, yet you’ve never rewarded me properly. And now this son of yours– notice that he doesn’t call him my brother, but rather your son– this son of yours, who has shamed you and wasted your legacy, wanders home and you throw him the party of the year.

“Son,” his father replies, reminding him of their relationship, “you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate, because this brother of yours,” he says, reminding him of their sibling relationship, “this brother of yours… was lost and has been found.”

For as different as they may seem at first, the two sons in Jesus’ parable have something important in common: both demand their rights at the expense of their relationships.[1]

In the case of the younger son, he lays claim to his birthright, but he does so by tearing apart his family’s holdings and trampling on his father’s honor. The allure of the far country is strong, so he severs his connection with family and community to chase his shallow dreams someplace else. He may be within his rights to leave, but that choice comes at the cost of his relationships.

The elder son, too, zeroes in on his supposed entitlements, even if it means spiting his father. His angry outburst reveals that he’s been nursing his resentment for a long time, which leads him to write off both his brother and his father in the end. He may be within his rights to refuse to celebrate his brother’s return, but that choice comes at the cost of his relationships.

Fortunately for both sons, they also have their father’s abiding love in common. In both cases, the father chooses to absorb the shame his children heap on him in order to preserve his relationship with them.[2] Ultimately, their self-absorption and rejection are not the decisive factors in the story, but only the father’s insistence on repairing with them. Mercy and love carry the day; mercy and love preserve the possibility of a future for their family.

If the sons are to participate in that future, however, they’ll have to let mercy and love change their hearts. That’s a good way to understand repentance in light of this parable. Reflecting on the younger son’s well-rehearsed confession– “Father, I have sinned…”– Lutheran theologian Joachim Jeremias wrote, “Repentance means learning to say ’Abbā’ [‘Father’] again,” that is, repentance means “putting one’s whole trust in the heavenly Father, returning to the Father’s house and the Father’s arms.”[3]

But the elder son needs to learn to say “Father” again, too, and he needs to learn to say “brother.”[4] His self-justifying impulses have pulled him away from gratitude and compassion and joy, leaving him with nothing but his pride as he sulks outside the celebration, alone. Repentance for him means releasing his grip on what he thinks he deserves, and embracing instead those virtues that make life in relationship worth living. After all, love is not a zero-sum game; the father’s love for one child does not mean there is less for another.[5]

Friends, which of the two sons do you most resemble today? Are you more inclined to throw yourself on God’s mercy in the hope that, despite your faults, God might receive you again with grace and love? Or, are you more likely to be confronted with your own need for relationship, despite your illusions of self-sufficiency, and so to soften your heart toward your neighbor?

In either case, let me invite you to practice saying “Father” again, and to practice saying “brother,” “sister,” “sibling” again. After all, it’s God’s party, and everyone is invited.[6] So, come in!

[1] R. Alan Culpepper, The New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. IX, 304.

[2] Leslie J. Hoppe, in Feasting on the Word, Year C, Vol. 2, 121.

[3] Culpepper, 302.

[4] Ibid. 303.

[5] Rodney Clapp, in Feasting on the Word, Year C, Vol. 2, 120.

[6] Ibid. 118.