The tragedy of the righteous brother
by Jeremiah Bartram on 08/03/10 at 9:02 am
Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” So he told them this parable: “There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’ So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. But when he came to himself he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “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.”’ So he went off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his slaves, ‘Quickly, bring out a robe – the best one – and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!’ And they began to celebrate. Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, ‘Your brother has come and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.’ Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!’ Then the father said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.’” Luke 15, 1-2; 11-32, reading for Sunday, March 14, the Fourth Sunday of Lent.
Commentators
NRSV: The robe is a festal garment, not worn while working; the ring symbolizes authority; sandals, because slaves would have been barefoot; the fatted calf is a sign of luxury. It notes that rivalry between brothers is a common biblical theme, and cites, among others, that of Cain and Abel.
Respecting the grumbling of the scribes and Pharisees over Jesus’ consorting with sinners, Hardy notes that Jewish religious thinkers believed that sinners were welcomed by God – but only after clear signs of repentance and change of life, on their own initiative. Jesus gave offence by associating with sinners without first requiring repentance.
Hardy summarizes the relevant inheritance laws that governed the disposition of property at the time. The younger brother’s request was unusual, but the main part of the father’s property would go to the elder in any case. Reduced to want, the younger son hires himself out to a gentile who kept pigs, unclean creatures. And then he comes to himself and returns to his father.
Hardy contrasts the parable with the prevailing contemporary rabbinical teaching: “They laid down all kinds of conditions (genuineness, lastingness, a will to make reparation, etc.) which a sinners’ repentance had to fulfill if were to be accepted. But in the parable it was sufficient for the son simply to return to his father. Similarly, it was not necessary for the ‘sinners’ with whom Jesus consorted to prove their penitence: it was sufficient that they sought his company.”
Respecting the elder brother’s protests, Hardy remarks: “But the main force of the [father’s] appeal depended, not on technicalities but on humanity: ‘we had to celebrate and rejoice.’ Jesus’ strongest argument against his critics (and it would have been as difficult for the Pharisees as for many of us to disagree with the elder son’s objections) likewise depended, not on technical definitions of repentance, but on those ultimate human values which are a sure guide to the nature of God’s dealings with human beings.”
Gospel for gays
This story is unique to Luke’s gospel. Where did he get it? No one knows. Did he just make it up – master storyteller that he is? That’s possible – but I doubt it. For me, the sharpness of the characters, the economy of their dialogue, along with its layers of irony, all indicate the creative mind of Jesus himself as its ultimate author.
I grew up calling it the story of the prodigal son – but it could equally be called “the angry brother”. It is his resentful behavior that gives the story its special point, and offers a direct rebuke to the grumbling of the Pharisees at the top of the chapter.
For me, Jesus’ fundamental message about his Kingdom is all summed up in this story.
The younger son demands his share of the family inheritance and he goes off to a city far enough from home that he can lead a life of his own choosing, free from their pressures and interference. Maybe he’s gay. Certainly, he does not want to subject himself to the normal pressures of heterosexual marriage and child-rearing. Whatever he seeks, it is not that.
He screws up. In the NRSV translation, quoted above, he leads a dissolute life. The French lectionary uses the interesting phrase, “une vie de désordre” (“a life of disorder”) – exactly the word that the Vatican uses to describe our sexual orientation.
Most of us can sympathize with him. If you’re eighteen, and on your own for the first time, you’re looking for sexual action, and you’re looking for fun. But he’s imprudent and he runs out of money, just as a famine hits. Starving, he suffers the ultimate humiliation: he keeps unclean animals, pigs, and wishes he could eat their food.
So he goes home to his dad, rehearsing a careful little speech of contrition.
And there’s the first revolution of the story: his dad sees him from afar, rushes to welcome him, doesn’t even listen to the carefully crafted speech, sweeps it aside, and commands a celebratory feast.
Which the prodigal accepts: he allows his father to give him a festal robe, to put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet, to take the seat of honor at the banquet – even though he knows that, in justice, he deserves none of this, neither has he asked for such abundance.
The plot thickens. His elder brother returns from his work in the field at the end of the day and finds light, the smell of barbequed meat, music, wine, dancing. He is outraged, and he is jealous: who wouldn’t be? He’s right! Show me someone who doesn’t identify with the elder brother, and I’ll show you a hypocrite.
And there’s the second revolution, one that is full of ironies.
The father goes out to him and begs him to join the party, to celebrate the return of the one who was lost and is found, was dead and is restored to life. The father asks him to let go of his anger and resentment, let go of his grievance, let go of his own righteousness and superiority, let go of his sexual jealousy – and enter the Kingdom.
Will he do it?
We don’t know. That’s part of the wonder of this story: Jesus/Luke leaves the ending open.
Personally, I don’t think he will, or that he can. I see him as the type of all those righteous people who fail, by their own choice, to enter the Kingdom.
So his is a tragic story: he has failed to choose life. He can console himself with bitter thoughts of how virtuous he is, and how unfair the father is, and how “disordered” his gay brother is – while he stands outside alone in the dark.
That is his “hell” – and he’s chosen it for himself.
