The Gospel of Luke has a tendency to group the sayings of Jesus under subject headings. For example, in Luke 18:1-8, the author of Luke tells us that a widow haranguing an unjust judge will finally gain justice for her cause. Her persistence will carry the day. The author of Luke groups that under the heading of "prayer." But is it? Or is it about one of the primary vulnerable groups in the Jewish triad (widows, orphans, and strangers), showing how justice is achieved even when all the odds are stacked against an individual or community? The story reveals that persistence is necessary. Persistent prayer is also valuable, but do we buy that Jesus uses the metaphor of the "unjust judge" to describe God? I don't buy it.
In the same manner, Luke, chapter 15, is framed as a collection of stories and aphorisms that talk about being "lost" and "found." So it naturally follows that the story is about what is "lost" and "found", right? But there is detail in the story which suggests that perhaps this is less a parable (using the common to arrive at a mind-blowing revelation) and more a tale of how the world works.
We learn that this is a wealthy family--hardly the audience Jesus would have gathered around him. And this wealthy family seems very content to blow off their responsibility to the rest of the community with cheap grace. They are caricatures. It is George W. Bush, snorting cocaine and rising to the level of the presidency with seemingly no idea about what would have happened if he were African-American (you know, the selective war on drugs). It is Donald Trump, who can use bankruptcy laws to again and again escape his creditors.
As Jewish communities are dissolving all around Jesus, would Jesus really have compared God's love to a wealthy patriarch who seems to be ignorant of how his family robs from the common and fails to recognize how the rest of the community fares as his sons squanders the inheritance in "extravagant living" and selfish greed?
And so . . . an alternative reading of the Prodigal Son story.
C
Lent 5 (OL4) BFC 2016
Luke
15:1-2, 11-32
March
13, 2016[1]
The Prodigals had always been a
cornerstone of the small Jewish village of Magdala. With so many other Jewish communities losing
their land through tremendous debt and the crush of Roman and Temple taxes, the
Prodigals kept so many other Jewish families alive in Magdala just by
maintaining their land as a trust for the whole community. “It is,” Adina thought, “how we, as Jews,
look out for one another.” Though the
Prodigals were more wealthy than anyone else in town, Magdala existed because
their land provided work, sustenance, and well-being for everyone. And Adina was promised to the oldest Prodigal
son, Melech. He was a good man, Adina
would say to herself, a hard-working man, someone who could provide for a
family in uncertain times. Adina would
say this over and over again to herself as a way to overlook Melech’s pompous
and arrogant way. Melech is a good and
hard-working man. Melech is a good and
hard-working man.
His younger brother, Zev, on the other hand, was not
only pompous and arrogant but also irresponsible. Adina was glad that she was
promised to Melech and not Zev. Zev had
no honor. He was a rather shameful
character who would come out and make fun of his servants or make them work
harder by chasing the sheep up one hill and down the other. Once they were all rounded up, Zev, often
half-drunk with wine, would start in again, making a shepherd’s day longer by
spooking the sheep over the next ridge.
Melech was never publicly drunk and only made fun of the servants
privately. Adina was blessed that Melech
was a good man and a hard worker.
Blessed that Melech was a good man and a hard worker. While no other families might be able to get
away with the shameful ways of the Prodigal family, they all counted themselves
blessed that Benjamin Prodigal owned enough land to support the community.
Adina knew it was an uneasy truce that the community
made with Benjamin Prodigal. Her father
liked Benjamin but would mutter about him being a “fool” by the way he let his
kids disrespect him time after time.
“Money buys grace, permits disrespect, and condones foolishness,” her
father would say, shaking his head as they both watched Zev Prodigal try to
kick one of the sheep in another drunken stupor, completely miss, and fall flat
on his backside. Adina was blessed that
Melech was a good man and a hard worker.
News traveled fast in Magdala. And everyone heard that Zev had come to his
father and asked for his share of the inheritance. When Adina heard the news, she turned to her
father, “Is this not a shameless thing to do?
Is he not already pronouncing his father dead by asking him for
this?”
“It is, my dove,” her father said. “It is a shameless thing for him to do. It is a foolish and reckless thing for his
father to grant him this wish. This
land, this inheritance, belongs not only to the Prodigals but, according to our
God, to all of the people in Magdala. He
puts us all at risk by granting him this request.”
“But what is he to do, father? My understanding is that Zev did not request
but demanded his inheritance from his father.”
“According to the Law of Moses, Zev is in no
position to demand anything from his father.
He is to honor him and even the request is a form of dishonor. It is as if Zev is wishing his father
dead—the right time for a son to claim inheritance.[2] But then father Prodigal is to also honor and
consider his community in granting such a request. I cannot say, but I do not think this was
even held in Benjamin’s heart or mind.”
Adina drew close to her father and bowed her head,
waiting. Recognizing her request to
speak, her father nodded his head. “So,
if I may ask, what do you think will happen now? Zev must know he holds all of our fortunes in
his hands?”
Her father answered, “Zev knows what Zev wants. He behaves like a Gentile, or worse yet, a
Roman. He eats when he is full. He drinks when he is satisfied. He weights the scales so that the poor pay
more than their fair share. He is like
them. I believe he now goes to be
them. And the land? I suspect the land will now become Gentile
and threaten our community. Melech also
dishonored his father by taking his half of the inheritance. Both boys seem to be interested only in what
profits them and not Magdala.”
Still, Adina was glad that Melech was a good and
hard-working man. She was also a good
and hard-working girl who knew that God had given the land to her people for
the benefit of her whole community. Her
mother had regularly taught her that any good gift she had been given, any
fortune or blessing, was given to be a fortune and blessing for her whole
community, her Jewish people. Her mother told her that this was the way that
the tender fabric of Magdala held together for the Jewish people. Even with so much poverty and creeping
hunger, Magdala would hold together as the Jewish people sought out not their
individual wants and wishes but remembered their neighbors according to the Law
of Moses. To not do so, to not remember,
her father added, was stealing.
As she recalled these words, told over and over as
she asked about her people at a younger age, she reasoned through the recent
turn of events. Adina held her hand over
her mouth as she heard herself say the words, “Zev Prodigal was stealing from
Magdala.” Her mother’s eyes grew wide
that her daughter would be so bold. Her
father turned from his food at the table, cocked his head as if to take in her
words, and then said, “Tsssscht, these are things better left unsaid. Come.
I have eaten. Time for you to
eat.” Adina knew her father well enough
that he had agreed to her statement but sought to measure her speaking so
strongly.
It was about three months later when Adina was
carrying water back from the ancient well along the edge of town when she saw
him. He was lying on his side like so
many other times Adina had seen him in Magdala.
But he was filthy, and as she approached, his smell made her eyes
water. It was Zev. Though Adina would never approach a man, even
a known Jewish man without consent, she knew that Zev was in no condition to
offer any objection. He looked and
smelled like he was dead. She bent a
knee and lifted his head. “Drink,
Zev. Drink.” His lips were dry and split but he had
clearly had much wine in the recent future . . . and something else. He readily received the water as Adina
poured, and his eyes open and tried to focus on who was giving him mercy. “Adina,” he whispered, in between gulps.
“What is that smell, Zev?” Adina asked, covering her
face and turning away. The stinging in
her eyes wouldn’t go away. Zev’s
shoulder’s moved like he was laughing.
“Pigs!” he said. “They had me
feeding the pigs. The pigs ate better
than I did!”
“You became a Gentile? What happened to all of your inheritance?”
“Oh, Adina, I had a great time, a wonderful time
with my inheritance. You cannot imagine
the fun I had.” His shoulders began to
shake in laughter again. He seemed
totally unrepentant. He said it
again. “You cannot imagine.” With that, he flashed his eyes at Adina, running
his hand up her leg, as if to indicate something lewd and disgusting. Now it was not the pig rot that Adina could
smell. She dropped his head and turned
away.
She stood up and tried to brush her disgust off her
clothes. “So why did you come back?”
He sat up. “I
got hungry. And my father feeds the
stupid slaves far better than the scraps I was getting. The pigs were eating much better than me. So I thought I would ask to come on as one of
his slaves.” He laughed out loud. Everyone knew what his father would do. And it wouldn’t be to relegate Zev to servant
status. “I best be going. My father will be looking for me. Say hello to my older brother for me.”
Adina knew that Zev was right. Father Prodigal would still be holding out
hope, keeping vigil, praying that his son might return to him. And without asking, all would be forgiven. Zev was without honor, completely
shameless. What was it her father
said? “Money buys grace, permits
disrespect, and condones foolishness.”
Father Prodigal would embarrass himself by running from his home to
greet this son who had wished him dead.
Adina quickly left the water at her home and went to
find Melech. She knew he would not
receive the news of his brother’s return with the same spirit that Father
Prodigal would. And with his inheritance
gone, Zev would now be living off the inheritance that was given to Melech. It took Adina a good portion of daylight, but
she found him in the field as Father Prodigal approached him.
She heard Father Prodigal begin, “My dear child,
please come to the party to celebrate your brother.”
Melech refused.
“Father, I have worked my butt off for you here. Slaved and labored this whole time. When have you even spared a small goat for me? When?
But Zev arrives home . . . . Was he drunk? I’ll bet he was drunk.”
“It is of no matter, my son.”
“He was drunk.
And you kill a fatted calf for him!
Melech snapped back. “I’ll
hand one thing to Zev. He had the
advantage of waiting, watching, and learning how to manipulate you,
father. And he learned his lessons well.”
“What could I
possibly yet give you? I gave you your
inheritance. It is already all yours. Please, all of Magdala is here and the party
awaits you. Your brother who was dead is
now alive. Please.”
Melech turned away from his father as Adina arrived.
Father Prodigal reluctantly left Melech
in the field and returned to the festivities.
Adina approached Melech and bowed. He relented and nodded his approval. “Fathers should not have to beg their sons,
Melech.” In a fit of rage, took the back
of his right hand and knocked Adina to the ground. She felt him over her, towering, wandering
what he was about to do next. When she
looked up, Melech was actively trying to strike her again, but there was a
larger figure that held Melech’s wrist and would not let go.
“Your family has put all of Magdala in grave danger,
Melech.” It was her father. “You think
you can act alone in your greed and expect this village to remain for you? The Law of the Living God has been given so
that we might all live in prosperity, shalom, and well-being. Today you have not only dishonored yourself,
your father, but also your betrothed. All
she did was remind you of the Law of Moses.
Honor . . . your . . . father. So
for now, your betrothal is broken. The
stink of your dishonor may cover your family.
It will not extend to ours.”
His voice softened.
“Come, Adina, the sun sets, the day is beginning, and it is time for our
prayers. Let us pray that the Prodigals
may remember that no Jew worships alone.
For there is no amount of money that can purchase God’s peace.”
And with that, Adina and her father began the short
walk home. “Perhaps, father, perhaps
there may one day come a teacher like Moses, who reminds all of us, not just
the Prodigals, that our true inheritance is that we are all one.”
He smiled at his wise daughter. “That would be a great teacher, my dove. I pray that we might all see that day.”
[1]
Much of this sermon is based on the scholarship done around the prodigal son
parable found in Bernard Brandon Scott, Re-Imagine
the World: An Introduction to the
Parables of Jesus (Santa Rosa, CA:
Polebridge Press, 2001) and Bruce J. Malina, Richard L. Rohrbaugh, Social Science Commentary on the Synoptic
Gospels (Minneapolis, Fortress Press, 2003).
[2]
Sirach 33:20-24; Deuteronomy 21:15-17; A rabbinic proverb declares that among
those who cry out to God and can expect no answer is “he who transfers his property
to his children in his lifetime.” (Babylonian Talmud, Baba Mezia, 75B).
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