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The other son
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In The Return of the Prodigal Son, Henri Nouwen considers the well-known parable from the perspective of Rembrandt’s famous painting. In so doing, he notes that while he first identified with the prodigal, a blunt but well-meaning friend suggested that perhaps he had more in common with the resentful son of the story.
It’s always hard, isn’t it, hearing something harsh — because it is painfully true — from a friend? We don’t all have a friend like that, but we should, if only to give voice to what we ignore when it is whispered by the Holy Spirit. The problem is that we also have, many of us, one or two friends who imagine they are that person. You know the type, the let-me-get-in-your-face-so-we-can-get-real person who is more passive aggressive than introspective, but who can’t stop spouting that iron sharpening iron verse.
Obviously, though I have lived much of my life as the prodigal son, the judgmental, withdrawn, irritable son rears his ugly head more often than I care to admit. So as Nouwen describes how the second son resents the attention the returning son has received, I see myself.
I also see the Church, in our more selfish moments. Nouwen writes of the sin often evidenced by the righteous: “It is far more pernicious: something that has attached itself to the underside of my virtue.” Thus do good works lead to frustration when people don’t reform, or piety to pride, or faithfulness to disdain for unchurched heathen who are getting all the attention from the Emergent-Church types these days.
“The parable that Rembrandt painted,” Nouwen says, “might well be called ‘The Parable of the Lost Sons.” I hadn’t thought about it, how one can get lost while dwelling on his own land, or become alienated from a father while living under his roof.
And surely this must be a harder sin to overcome, Nouwen claims: “the hardest conversion to go through is the conversion of the one who stayed home.” It puts me in mind of the scene in Graham Greene’s The Power and the Glory, when the hunted priest is in a prison cell with the dregs of humanity, but also with a pious woman who condemns him when she learns that he is a drunkard:
“God might forgive cowardice and passion, but was it possible to forgive the habit of piety? … salvation could strike like lightning at the evil heart, but the habit of piety excluded everything but the evening prayer…”
No wonder Christ warned that the way is narrow. We can stray onto the path of the prodigal, or worse, dwell on our father’s land doing good works, but let grow up in our hearts the dark cancer of a Pharisee. Why is the latter worse? Consider for whom Christ reserved his harshest words. Or recall that the prodigal realized he was lost. The angry son thought he was in the right. Did he ever go back into his father’s house, to join the feast? We don’t know. And yet, Nouwen says, the encouragement in the story is that the father is always there, ready to welcome his children with open arms, if only they will lay down their pride and rebellion. Which is easier said than done, and usually said about other people, rather than ourselves.
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Nouwen himself becomes a good measure of which son we are. How do we respond to him? I have heard pastors critizied by shreiking other brothers because they read or quote Nouwen “who afterall was gay!” But he never acted on his desires. Was he in sin for merely having the desires? Here was a man who wrestled mightily with his besetting sin and–as far as anyone knows–never acted on it.
If we condemn Nouwen what hope is there in the gospel for homosexuals? What hope is there for us who have served our Father, but grown angry at the very nature of His love and mercy?
Ah, the leaven that is sin…
It is so pervasive in our beings that we miss it all the time. We think we are being good, when in reality our motivation is selfish.
Thank God, that the work of Jesus is sufficient for all our sin. God be merciful unto me a sinner.
We have a book club that meets during the Sunday school hour during the summer and yesterday we were discussing Gayle Roper’s novel Spring Rain, which features a character who has come home to die of AIDS.
During our discussion, we talked about a friend of my daughter’s whose family dissolved in a nasty, highly-sexualized divorce, and how I did not feel comfortable letting my daughter spend time at her friend’s house, particularly with the dad–who was the more stable parent.
I discouraged the relationship, and felt relief when the girl went to a different high school–where she got caught up in the artsy Goth lifestyle. I haven’t seen her in over a year.
One of the other women pointed out the Goths and the GLAAD kids tend to welcome kids who are having problems, reaching out with open arms to those in need, “but where was the church?”
An excellent question, which is why Tony’s post reminded me of it. I was so afraid of the negative influence of this girl and her messy family on my child, I didn’t reach out to her as much as I should have. Like the elder brother (with whom I’ve always identified anyway–I read Nouwen’s book nine years ago), I didn’t look past my own fears/insecurities/pride to respond in love to a girl who needed security and acceptance.
And, unfortunately, I don’t think I’m alone.
3-
nice, specific application here with a real life story. Thanks!!
How I would love to read something positive about our (saint, righteous, godly) identity in Christ that is also part of real life. Does anyone have anything positive to share?
Michelle,
I had a very similar expereince. My son had a friend who was known at school for being out of control. The kid was over one day and they were skateboarding out front while I was trying to cook dinner. I had to keep going out to reign this kid in. Back in the kitchen I looked to the heavens and asked God “Is this really who you want my son hanging around?” Suddenly behind me this kid comes up and says, “Mrs. Adios, wanna hear my favorite Bible verse?” Well, how was that for swiftly answered prayer? This kid pulled a 3×5 card out of his pocket with John 3:16 on it and hands it to me while he tries to recite it from memory. Hewas looking for redemption in a world of adolescent chaos and very few adults in his life that were being adults. The Lord knows how to pull us elder brothers up by our shorts, eh?
Reg - I’m not sure I get what you mean.
Last Thanksgiving, God gave us the opportunity to share our table with a young gay man who was not welcome to his own family’s dinner. (This young man is a dear friend of my niece.)
Being able to share our hospitality & our Thankssgiving dinner with this young man was a privilege to us, & besides being a witness of Christ’s love to him, it was also a witness to the pro-gay, anti-Christian side of the family.
We didn’t, however, invite him to make a point or score points, but out of love & concern.
Is this the kind of story you mean?
Reg-
Here’s another one from a while ago but still from real life:
In the early 7th century, a young monk named Vitalis arrived in Alexandria and immmediately compiled a list of all the prostitutes in Alexandria. During the day he hired himself out for the heaviest work, and at night he went into the brothels, gave the money he had earned to some prostitute and shut himself in her room with her for the whole night. As soon as he had shut the door, Vitalis begged the woman to lie down and sleep, while he spent the entire night in a corner of the room in prayer to God for that sinner.
Thus, he kept the sinner from sinning even for one night. The second night he would go to another, the third to another, and so on in order, till he had gone through them all; then he went back to the one with whom he had started. By his counsel, many of these sinners left their foul calling. Some married, some went into monasteries and others began some honest work for payment.
All these women were forbidden by Vitalis to say why he came to them. As a result, he became a scandal to the whole of Alexandria. People reviled him in the streets, spat on him and buffeted him. But he bore it all patiently, revealing his good works to the Lord, but concealing them from men.
Only after his death, did all became known about him. Miraculous healings occurred over his grave; people came from far and wide, bringing their sick to it. Spat upon by men, he was and is glorified by the all-seeing God.
Now THERE’S the Church, not just ministering to, but seeking out, those who most of us (including, shamefully, myself) would usually give up to the devil.
NO one can claim THEIR OWN WAY to GOD. It is only through believing in Jesus Christ who shed His blood on the Cross that we can come to God. Jesus made it crystal clear that no man cometh unto the Father except through Him (Jesus Christ)
Thanks Victoria - I agree many of us would find some of what Nouwen has written elsewhere to be objectionable. Much of what he says in The Return of the Prodigal Son, however, is — to me, at least — quite edifying.
Tony
Nouwen — “every person claim his or her own way to God.” — this is blatantly untrue. There is no other way to God except through His Son Jesus Christ. This is the first important step when purposes to know the truth, of God.
Nouwen had nothing in common with the brother of the Prodigal son, and this is the reason: The Prodigal son came back to his father and begged forgiveness, (just as a sinner who goes astray comes back and repents) - The son who had always done as his father asked, was hurt, he couldn’t understand WHY he wasn’t given a party, but the father in love explained to the son WHY, that everything he had would be his. One young man had done his father’s bidding, the other young man went astray, but returned to repent and was forgiven.
25 Now his elder son was in the field: and as he came and drew nigh to the house, he heard musick and dancing.
26 And he called one of the servants, and asked what these things meant.
27 And he said unto him, Thy brother is come; and thy father hath killed the fatted calf, because he hath received him safe and sound.
28 And he was angry, and would not go in: therefore came his father out, and intreated him.
29 And he answering said to his father, Lo, these many years do I serve thee, neither transgressed I at any time thy commandment: and yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends:
30 But as soon as this thy son was come, which hath devoured thy living with harlots, thou hast killed for him the fatted calf.
31 And he said unto him, Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine.
32 It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.
Luke 15
One had strayed and come back, one had never strayed.
Nouwen doesn’t fit either one of the young men in the parable of the Prodigal son.
As a non-Christian I read one of Henry Nouen’s books once. He seemed to me to be a fine example of Christianity. I’m glad that Victoria is here to set the record straight on that though.
Anlir, like I said, Nouwen is a good measure!
Victoria,
Not being the Father, I can’t discern which son Nouwen finally proved to be, but I can say that his description of the other son certainly resonated with me.
I’m curious about your claim that the second son never strayed. It seems a fair reading of this parable is that the second son did stray, in a very signficant way, by hardening his heart toward both his brother and his father. Do you interpret it differently?
Tony,
The second son was troubled when he arrived home to hear everyone having a party — the young man wouldn’t go into the party, so the father came out to him and explained the situation to a hurt, son, one who had served his father.
Tony how many times do we as Believers do what we know to be right, yet we see those who disobey, go their own way, then come back into fellowship as Believers and feel ‘left out’ as if we haven’t been given recognition for those things we have done, while the wayward do their ‘own thing’ and then come home. Many times the wayward son/daughter friend, recieves far more attention than the ones who do what’s right. When they finally come to their senses its such a relief for the family they feel like celebrating for months. The wayward give their testimony and everyone rejoices. This parable has far reaching effects for all of us today.
It appears very clearly that it was a momentary situation in which the young man was saddened by his never having a party. Many times a parent needs to explain a situation to a grown son or daughter as to WHY, whatever the WHY might be — hurt feelings, regarding another sibling.
In the end as in verse 31 and 32 the explanation to his son was sufficent. As the father said “Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine.”
God bless you Tony.
Victoria,
You’re certainly right that obedience can begin to sow in us the seeds of entitlement. I’ll have to think some about your interpretation of the second son’s reaction, because I’ve always read it as anger and hard-heartedness, and the ending as undecided, because we have the father’s words, which amount to an offering to the second son, but no indication of the son’s response. Your interpretation is certainly plausible. I do like to think that both brothers eventually sat down together.
And blessings to you as well.
Thank you Tony.
Just to add something to what I said, and then you have posted now. Sometimes when a son/daughter or friend is troubled by our actions, we as parents or friends offer our understanding with their brokenness, or hurt feelings — in the same way the father of this young man offered his devotion and love by saying ““Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine.” — those words would soften the heart of any son who had done his best to please his father. The boy needed understanding, and the father offered it with kindness and reassurance of his love.
I think the second son was angry because he was trying to win the Father’s love by works, which is misplaced obedience. The Father’s unconditional love for the prodigal son seemed so unfair. It’s the same problem we have with the parable of the laborers hired at the 11th hour, but paid the same as those who had worked all day in the sun.
I agree, Adios. It is the same with the thief on the cross. I mean how DARE Jesus take him to paradise that very day???? He was a *criminal* for heaven’s sake!
It is very, very hard for those of us who call ourselves Christians to understand how very, very simple God has made salvation and how He rejoices over the repentance — even at the last minute — of any of His creations.
Unconditional love is a hard thing to accept for those of us with a bit of the older son in us (and who doesn’t have a bit of that?)
Even the child will say, “It’s not fair!” It may not be in our eyes, but it is just.
I’ve always thought that this same point was one of the points made in Matt 20: 1-16.
Just as the good son feels that his father “owes” him something more for being good, the laborers hired at the beginning of the day feel that they are “owed” more by the landowner.
We get a glimpse of God dispensing His love and blessings with really radical generosity. He pours them out on people that we’re sure we’re better than - prodigals who have strayed, people who’ve stood idly in the square all day.
It’s fine that we’re good, that we’re faithful, and that we do good works. But it’s pretty clear in both cases, how easy it is for that to cross the line - for us to bemoan that God is unjust when He blesses others, or those we feel shouldn’t get as much of His love. It exposes that at least somewhat, we are jealous of His love, and insecure in our own standing, when we see what others receive.
But I do also agree with Victoria - in both the prodigal son story, and the case of the laborers who worked all day, the father and the landowner patiently explain to the person who complains, that they have received equally as much.
As a child I disliked this story, and the one about the laborers in the vineyard, because I identified with the older son, and with the laborers who had worked all day. I was by nature an obedient child, and I didn’t like seeing kids who didn’t do what they were supposed to get away with it. Which is how this story appeared to me, the younger son not only was welcomed home but actually seemed to be rewarded for his previously bad behavior. After all, it doesn’t say the angels rejoice as much over a sinner who repents as over those who do not need to, but that they rejoice more over the repentant sinner. Which seems to imply the father in the story was happier with the second son’s return than with the older son’s never having left.
As a young teenager, I became aware of the flaws in my character. I resented my parents’ friendships with so many physically and mentally disabled people - going to activities with them or inviting them into our home was the sum total of the family’s social activities - and I felt bad that I did not feel more compassion for them myself. I had started attending a fundamentalist church, where they emphasized obedience to authority simply because it was the right thing to do, and I realized that I resented that. I liked the praise I received for being good, and being trusted to a greater extent than my peers, and for that I would obey even teachers or leaders I felt no real respect for - but I didn’t like the idea that I should do it just because it was right. I didn’t like Jesus’ teaching to pray or give without anyone knowing and praising me, to do it just for God to reward me someday.
As an older teen, I finally came to feel real sorrow for my sins of pride and self-centeredness and how far I was from the reasonably good person I had thought I was and that other people seemed to think I was. So I came to identify with the prodigal son rather than his older brother, and feel grateful for God’s grace in forgiving me. Thus I find it hard now to identify with the older brother, because he does come across as resentful of the grace given to his younger brother, and not to have experience of being on the receiving end of forgiveness himself.