Dave Hop There’s a servant in the hallway, brushing dust and yet also straining to hear. There’s a crack in the door and the younger son is inside the room with his father, demanding money. Talking about grabbing his inheritance early. The servant is waiting to hear the father reprimand his son and tell him to get back to work. But then he hears, ‘Okay!’ and the servant stifles a laugh sparked by shock. Surely not. Surely no father would agree to that. And yet he does. And now the son is standing there with his future in his hands, and the gift of freewill, his life to make of it as he wishes. And as the younger boy walks away he’s thinking of another prodigal – Jacob – and wonders if he’ll return home rich and full of wives and children. Successful and impressive.
And so now the father adopts a new habit, going out, day after day after day looking for the safe return of his boy, hoping all the while that his other son, the older one, will step up and do what he should – go off in search of his brother, head off to rescue him. But no. The older brother seems to be ignoring the situation. So the father waits and watches, and every day moves a little further down the road in the hope that his son will come home.
Meanwhile the boy finds himself partying and spending money like there’s no tomorrow. Later his brother will accuse him of sleeping with prostitutes but that’s merely his brother’s spite. All we know is that he has a good time. And perhaps the times become more hollow and less good the more he has of them. And his new friends, once so devoted, do a disappearing trick, vanish and leave him searching for safety, and a pig sty… so he can do something, anything… for a filthy crust.
And now the father’s running, looking foolish, no dignity to him, as he catches sight of his returning son and hurls himself to embrace the boy. To welcome him home, and to protect him from the jagged stones hurled by any local men who want to punish the lad for his disrespect and rebellion. If a man has a rebellious son the parents must take him to the elders who will stone him to make an example of him… so says the law of Deuteronomy 21 v 18. But not this father. He is here now, enveloping the boy in the folds of his robe, clutching him tightly to his chest, while his son struggles to mutter his muffled, contrite speech. The boy can feel the pounding of his father’s heartbeat, a heart full of love and relief and compassion. And both men have tears leaking down their cheeks. And then the older man is issuing calls for a party, and when his older son finds out he’ll go mad, because it’s his money being spent. The father having now split his inheritance between the two boys. Any celebrating now comes out of the reluctant brother’s wallet. And before long there is a party on earth and in heaven, and the young son finds himself clean and new and feasting, while his brother paces outside in the cold night, empty and spitting and cursing in the dark, and saying the sort of things no son should ever say to his father. No respect. No love in him. No tears leaking down his cheeks. The older boy suddenly more lost than his younger brother ever was, yet not knowing it. And needing a welcome and a party just as much as his brother does. And the father talks about death and new life, and that’s what he’s offering to both his boys. And the question hangs in the air, will the older prodigal return home now too? Will he realise how lost he is and how far the father has come to find him.
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