the parable of the prodigal son, implies that it is primarily about the younger son. Such is not the case, however. Though he does not appear until the end, it is actually the older brother who is the main focus of the parable.

The tax collectors were not highly regarded, for they both helped the hated Romans in their administration of conquered territory and enriched themselves at the expense of their fellow-countrymen. They were ostracized by many and regarded as outcasts by the religious. The sinners were the immoral or those who followed occupations that the religious regarded as incompatible with the Law.

One way they tried to discredit Jesus was by attacking Him for associating with the “unsynagogued” riffraff of Jewish society, the tax-collectors and sinners (15:1–2). That Jesus associated with Satan’s people (as they viewed them) instead of God’s people (as they viewed themselves) proved, they argued, that He could not be from God.

Running necessitated gathering up the long robes worn by men and women alike and thus exposing the legs, which was considered shameful. He became at that time the object of shame—taking shame on himself to prevent shame on his son. Even more shocking was what he did when he reached the prodigal; he embraced him despite his impoverished filthiness and the vile rags he wore and repeatedly kissed him. That gesture of acceptance, love, forgiveness, and reconciliation would have further shocked the scribes and Pharisees. Here in this father the Lord Jesus Christ presents Himself, the one who left the glory of heaven, came to earth and bore the shame and humility to embrace repentant sinners, who come to Him in faith, and give them complete forgiveness and reconciliation.

And this party, like the first two, in reality honored not the one found, but the finder, who sought his son and gave him full reconciliation through his merciful forgiveness and gracious love.

The people listening to the story would have wondered why the Lord did not bring in the older brother at this point to act as a mediator. That would have been expected. If he truly loved his father, he would have defended his honor from the irresponsible actions of his younger brother; if he loved his brother, he would have intervened to prevent him from ruining his life and heaping shame on everyone. He bears shame for his absence. The picture is of a loving, generous father who gave his all to two ungrateful, unloving sons, both of whom had absolutely no relationship to him, or to each other.

In its original setting the parable clearly has the Pharisees in view in the older brother. They stand close to God, at least in an apparent way, and appear to have an inside track to his blessing.

When he came in from the field and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. That he knew nothing of the reconciliation and had not heard the sounds of the party earlier indicates the huge size of the family estate designed into the story. Surprised at finding a village-wide celebration in progress that he knew nothing about, he summoned one of the servants (perhaps one of the young boys hanging around the fringes of the party) and began inquiring what these things could be.

He was not in the loop regarding the party, even though as the firstborn the responsibility for planning it should have fallen to him. Further, it was his resources, from his share of the estate, that were being used for the party, yet he had not been consulted. Legally, his father did not have to get his permission to use the resources, even though he had already dispersed to him the remaining two thirds of the estate. As noted above, the father retained control (according to the legal principle known as usufruct) of the estate as long as he lived. But his father’s failure to consult him indicates once again that the older brother had no relationship with him or his younger brother. In terms of his relationship to his family he was metaphorically, as well as literally, far away in a field.

All along, though, he had been wicked like his brother, only inwardly, not outwardly. But this event exposed his real attitude.

The scribes and Pharisees would have applauded his reaction. Finally, they must have thought, someone is upholding honor and acting righteously in anger over the son’s shameful sin and the father’s shameful forgiveness. They would have considered his father’s actions outrageous and shameful, in the same way they considered Christ’s associat ing with tax collectors and sinners wicked. And picturing them, the older son was a hypocritical legalist, doing what was expected of him on the outside, but inwardly filled with secret sins, such as bitterness, hatred, jealousy, anger, and lust (Matt. 23:28). The truth is, he was more profoundly and truly lost than his profligate younger brother, because he had spent his life convincing himself and others that he was good and morally upright. That made it impossible for him to acknowledge that he was in reality a wretched sinner. So it was with the scribes and Pharisees, they were “the righteous” that unlike “sinners” would not come to repentance (Matt. 9:13).

“I have never neglected a command of yours” (cf. Luke 18:21). Reflecting the amazing capacity for self-deception

THE PARABLE IS open-ended. It calls on Luke’s readers to reflect on what they would do if they were in the older brother’s sandals. Would we accept the sinner home and celebrate, or would we be too worried about ourselves to share in the joy of the return? The parable obviously implies that we should respond as the father calls the older son to do. We should pursue sinners and welcome them with joy when they return home.

The text also warns us through the older brother that activity for God by itself or proximity to him is not the same as knowing him through a relationship grounded in a conscious, humble turning to him.

was to be allowed to work toward restitution (cf. Matt. 18:26) of all he had wasted and after that hope to be reconciled with his father. The scribes and Pharisees would have agreed that he needed to confess, repent, be humiliated, shamed, and perhaps receive forgiveness and mercy, but only after making full restitution. In their thinking, people earn their way back from shame.

The father responds without defensiveness, noting that the older son already has access to what is the father’s. Given that the older son represents the Pharisees, this detail suggests that the full rights of sonship are the older son’s as well, if he asks for them. But the celebration for the sibling (“this brother of yours”!) is necessary, since he is back from the dead. A sinner found is a cause to celebrate.

THE PARABLE IS open-ended. It calls on Luke’s readers to reflect on what they would do if they were in the older brother’s sandals. Would we accept the sinner home and celebrate, or would we be too worried about ourselves to share in the joy of the return? The parable obviously implies that we should respond as the father calls the older son to do. We should pursue sinners and welcome them with joy when they return home.

The older brother sees God more as a taskmaster who uses his services rather than as a gracious Father. When we come to God on the basis of his grace, humbly recognizing our need for him rather than trying to earn his favor, we find the arms of God ready to welcome us in celebration. We risk missing the joy of relationship with God when we turn him into a scorekeeper.

Jesus did not let the Pharisaic censure interfere with his ministry. He had come to help sinners, which he could scarcely do if he did not meet them. We should not let the modern chapter division make us miss an important point. Jesus has just made an uncompromising demand for whole-heartedness as he showed what following him meant. He finished with ‘He who has ears to hear, let him hear’. Luke’s very next words tell us that these sinners came near to hear him. Whatever the case with the Pharisees and their like, these sinners had been challenged. They knew what discipleship meant. They were called on to hear. And they heard.

20. So he went back. Significantly Jesus does not say to his own village or even to his home, but to his father.

and he kissed him (cf. David’s forgiving kiss of Absalom, 2 Sam. 14:33).

He had already gone out to meet one son and he now went out to plead with the other. But he was met by a torrent of words as the pent-up feelings of years came tumbling out. The elder son was conscious of his own rectitude. He was completely self-righteous. He saw himself as the model son, but his use of the verb douleuō, ‘to serve as a slave’ (cf. NEB, ‘I have slaved for you all these years’), gives him away. He did not really understand what being a son means. That is perhaps why he did not understand what being a father means. He could not see why his father should be so full of joy at the return of the prodigal. He complains that the father has never given him a kid (of much less value than the fatted calf) for a feast with his friends (who would have been respectable people and not like the other boy’s associates). The proud and the self-righteous always feel that they are not treated as well as they deserve. He cannot even refer to the prodigal as his brother but as this son of yours.

We may perhaps infer that that son was in error in saying that he had never had a kid wherewith to entertain his friends. He had it all. But he, like the Pharisees, did not realize the extent of his privileges. But when all this is said the father does not back down in the slightest in his welcome of the younger brother. It was fitting is not strong enough for his word edei, which means ‘It was necessary’.

Jesus does not go on to tell us whether the elder son responded or not. Nor does he say how the younger son lived in response to his father’s welcoming love. In leaving these points unresolved he throws out a challenge to all his hearers, be they like the elder brother or like the younger.

The call for sinners to repent is at the heart of all biblical evangelism, beginning in the Old Testament (cf. Pss. 32:5; 51:1–4, 14, 17; Isa. 1:16–18; 55:6–7; Ezek. 18:30, 32; 33:19; Jonah 3:5–10). In the New Testament repentance was central to the gospel preaching of John the Baptist (Luke 3:3–9), Jesus (Matt. 4:17; Luke 5:32; 13:3, 5; 24:46–47), the apostles (Mark 6:12), and the early church (Acts 2:38; 3:19; 5:31; 8:22; 17:30; 20:21; 26:20; 2 Cor. 7:9–11). Repentance must not be misconstrued as a meritorious, pre-salvation work since, though required of the sinner, it must be granted by God (Acts 11:18; Rom. 2:4; 2 Tim. 2:25).

All of the older son’s pent up anger, bitterness, and resentment spilled out in a tirade that disregarded both his father’s honor and his brother’s blessing. Disrespectfully refusing to address him with the title “Father,” he bluntly said to his father, “Look! For so many years I have been serving (douleuō; to serve as a slave) you.” To him, his many years of working under his father had been nothing but slavery. There was no love or respect for his father, merely toil and drudgery, waiting for him to die so he could inherit. It becomes clear that he wanted exactly what his younger brother wanted, all he could get of the estate for his own use, but chose a different path to obtaining it.

First, he declared that he had not been celebrated for his legalism. Heaven never holds a party for a self-righteous man.

First, he declared that he had not been celebrated for his legalism. Heaven never holds a party for a self-righteous man.

The word translated son is not huios, the term used in verses 11, 13, 19, 21, 24, 25 and 30, but the more affectionate term teknon (“child”). “You have always been with me,” he reminded him, “and all that is mine is yours.”

Although the father retained control over the estate, he had already given it to his son. Here is a picture of God’s magnanimity, especially to the Jews, who were given the Scripture, the most generous common grace, and years of gospel opportunity (cf. Rom. 9:4–5). God’s riches were given in greatest abundance and clarity to the Jews, and especially those very leaders who prided themselves on their knowledge of Scripture.

With those words [v. 32], the parable of the prodigal son ended—but like a musical arrangement without a final, satisfying chord resolution. No more words, and Jesus simply walked away from the public venue where He was teaching. He moved into a more private context with His own disciples, where He began to tell them a whole new parable. The narrative reflects the shift in verse 16:1. “He also said to His disciples: ‘There was a certain rich man …’ ”

This is stunning. The ending is the thing in every story. We wait with anticipation for the finale. It’s so vital that some readers can’t resist turning to the end to see how the plot resolves before they read the actual story. But this story leaves us hanging.

But the abruptness of the ending doesn’t leave us without the point; it is the point. This is the final blow in a long series of shocks that were built into Jesus’ telling of the story. Of all the surprising plot twists and startling details, this is the culminating surprise: Jesus marvelously shaped the point and then simply walked away without resolving the tension between the father and his firstborn. But there is no missing fragment. He intentionally left the story unfinished and the dilemma unsettled. It is supposed to make us feel like we’re waiting for a punch line or final sentence.

Thus everyone who hears the story writes his or her own ending by how we respond to the kindness of God toward sinners.

It is an ingenious way to end the story. It leaves us wanting to pen the ending we would like to see. Anyone whose heart is not already hardened by self-righteous resentment ought to apprehend in the parable something about the glory of God’s grace in Christ—especially His loving forgiveness and glad-hearted acceptance of penitent sinners. The person who catches even a glimpse of that truth would surely want to write something good—like this:

Then the elder son fell on his knees before his father, saying, “I repent for my bitter, loveless heart, for my hypocritical service, and for my pride and self-righteousness. Forgive me, Father. Make me a true son, and take me inside to the feast.” The father then embraced his firstborn son, smothered him with tearful, grateful kisses, took him inside, and seated him alongside his brother in dual seats of honor. They all rejoiced together and the level of joy [at] that already amazing celebration suddenly doubled. No one there would ever forget that night.

Don’t forget that Jesus told this parable—including the abrupt ending—chiefly for the benefit of the scribes and Pharisees. It was really a story about them. The elder brother represented them. The hanging resolution underscored the truth that the next move was theirs. The father’s final tender plea was Jesus’ own gentle appeal to them. If they had demanded to know the end of the parable on the spot, Jesus might well have said to them, “That is up to you.” The Pharisees’ ultimate response to Jesus would write the end of the story in real-life.

We therefore know how the tale really ended, then, don’t we? It is not a happy ending. Instead, it’s another shocking plot turn. In fact, it is the greatest shock and outrage of all time.

They killed Him.

Since the father figure in the parable represents Christ and the elder brother is a symbol of Israel’s religious elite, in effect, the true ending to the story, as written by the scribes and Pharisees themselves, ought to read something like this: “The elder son was outraged at his father. He picked up a piece of lumber and beat him to death in front of everyone.”

THE OPEN INVITATION

The invitation to be part of the great celebratory banquet is still open to all. It extends even to you, dear reader. And it doesn’t matter whether you are an open sinner like the Prodigal Son, a secret one like his elder brother, or someone with characteristics from each type. If you are someone who is still estranged from God, Christ urges you to acknowledge your guilt, admit your own spiritual poverty, embrace your heavenly Father, and be reconciled to Him (2 Corinthians 5:20).

And the Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” And let him who hears say, “Come!” And let him who thirsts come. Whoever desires, let him take the water of life freely. (Revelation 22:17)