The Lost Older Son

by Dave Wilkinson

Luke 15:25-32

November 25, 2001

A man has a flat tire on a lonely road and discovers that his jack is missing. He sees a farmhouse on a hill, and sets out to borrow a jack. But the idea of asking a stranger for help bothers him and he soon begins to wonder if the farmer will be willing to lend him a jack. The more he thinks about it, the less likely it seems. Yet, this seems a shabby way to treat a man in trouble -- after all, he isn't going to steal the jack.

By the time he reaches the farmhouse, his embarrassment has become anger. When the farmer opens to his knock the man snaps: "I just came to tell you that you can keep your stupid jack!"

This is the attitude of suspicion resulting in rage. This is the attitude of the older brother in the parable known to us as the Prodigal Son.

Jesus' parable now comes to its main part. We rightly love the part we looked at last Sunday -- the homecoming of the younger son and the great joy of the father. It is a tremendous story of good news.

But it is still only a prelude to the main part of the parable which we are looking at today. This is the encounter between the father and the older son.

We know that this is the main part of the parable because of who Jesus is telling it to. He isn't telling it to the people in the pig pen-- the tax collectors and sinners and down-and-outers. Luke says that these people are already coming "near to hear Jesus."

No! Jesus tells this parable to the pharisees and the scribes. In this climax to the parable, Jesus describes their lostness -- a much more delicate task than speaking of the lostness of the more obvious sinners because the Pharisees and the Scribes aren't even aware that they are lost.

This is because the Scribes and the Pharisees are people who are lost within the law. They have the law but they miss the point -- reducing it to a sterile legalism which removes all sense of joy in relationship with God. They see God as the cosmic "truant officer" and they see themselves as his assistants -- the heavenly hall monitors -- making sure that everyone toes the line.

Now the pharisees are dangerous because they are in some ways close to the truth. They believe in holiness. So does the Taliban. But they want the privilege of defining it. And they snobbishly reject anyone who does not follow their strict rules.

In this last part of the parable, Jesus paints a picture of the Pharisees who are listening to Him. Then he invites them to look at the portrait he paints.

Watch the master teacher at work: "Now his elder son was in the field; and as he came near the house he heard music and dancing. And he called one of the boys and asked what this meant. And the boy said to him, 'your brother has come and your father has killed the fatted calf because he received him back safe and sound. But he was angry and refused to go in."

This is the son who is lost within the law. Taking up the story where we left off last week, we see that the father makes a banquet for the community to welcome his prodigal son. And it's a big banquet. The father spares no expense to bring his son back into good standing in the community.

Now all the time the younger son was off in the far country squandering his inheritance, the older son was home keeping the farm. There is a good reason for this. When the property was divided, in accordance with the law of Deuteronomy 21:17, the older son received a double portion of the inheritance.

The younger son has already thrown his share away. So we see that the older son is not working the fields out of love and faithfulness to his father. He is working them because they are now his. The father might live off the produce, but the fields themselves now belong to the older brother.

The older brother leaves the fields to walk back to the house. As he approaches, he hears the sounds of music and dancing. The festivities have begun, the guest have assembled and they are enjoying themselves.

We expect this young man, once he discovers that all of this merriment is coming from his own home, to enter the house with great excitement to find out what the party is all about. But this is not what he does. He is apparently suspicious of his father. He stops in the street and he calls to one of the neighbor boys -- the translation "servant" probably isn't correct -- and this boy tells him: "Your brother has come. Your father has killed the fatted calf and has made a great banquet because he has received him back safe and sound."

Now remember, when the father dies everything will go to the older son. It is, in a sense, already his property -- including that now deceased calf. His resentment over the slaughter of the calf indicates where his loyalties lie and something of the secret world of his heart. And his suspicion becomes rage when he realizes the reason for the celebration.

His brother is back?

Why celebrate that? That squandering, loose-living, irresponsible brat deserves something all right! But it certainly isn't a party. He will not dignify such a travesty with his presence. He turns on his heels -- white hot anger pulsing through his veins.

Now it is interesting that it is a party that poses the crisis for the older son. That makes sense psychologically. It is very difficult to see others enjoy what you cannot enjoy.

Look at the context of the telling of this parable. What bothers the Pharisees most about Jesus is that He apparently enjoys the company of the sinners and tax collectors who are coming to Him. That's the sense of the verb that Luke uses. He doesn't seem to notice how evil they are -- no matter how often the Pharisees try to tell him.

Just a little later, Jesus is going to meet a man named Zacchaeus in a tree, and he is going to go right in to Zacchaeus' house. And he is the chief tax collector in Jericho -- a bottled-in-bond oppressor of the people. Doesn't Jesus know what kind of man Zacchaeus is? This is what bothers the Pharisees. It isn't because Jesus speaks to these people -- they will also speak to these people to give them a good talking to -- but it's that Jesus enjoys them and they enjoy him, and there's rejoicing going on and it isn't right!!!

It is also the sound of a party that creates the crisis for the older son. We are told in verse 28 that he is angry and refuses to enter the banquet hall. The guests are assembled and the doors and windows are wide open. They are waiting for him to join the festivities and receive congratulations for being a part of such a great family.

But there is more to it than that. In this culture, the father sits with the guests. The oldest son is expected to stand and serve all through the meal as the head waiter. The only difference between him and the other servants is that he joins in the conversation. By stationing the oldest son as a servant, the family is saying: "You, our guests are so great that our sons are your servants."

This role for this older son is standard practice. He would see that the different serving plates were full and would offer the choicest pieces of meat to the guests and say, "eat this for my sake." This particular ritual must be fulfilled especially with the honored guest. But who is the guest of honor at this banquet? It is his younger brother. The thought of serving his disgraceful younger brother in this way is beyond comprehension.

The older son decides instead to publicly humiliate his father by refusing to go inside.

For the second time in the same day we see the father do an unexpected and costly thing. He leaves the guests in a manner that is unthinkable in the Middle-East. He is expected to proceed with the banquet and ignore his rebellious son -- either that or punish him publicly in a manner appropriate for the maintenance of his authority as the patriarch. But he does neither.

For the second time in the same day the father publicly humiliates himself by going out to a rebellious son. He has greeted his younger son by running down the road with his long robe flapping behind him. Now he leaves his guests and goes to plead with his older son in the courtyard. This is not a private conversation. Enough ears can hear to spread the word.

The older son, however, is unaffected by such a public demonstration of love. To him, it's not love. It's weakness. He starts out abruptly in words of harsh complaint. His understanding of his relationship to his father is indicated by the vocabulary he uses. "Lo, these many years I have served you as a slave and I have never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a kid that I might make merry with my friends." (That is if he has any friends. This kind of person usually doesn't have too many.) "But when this son of yours came who has devoured your living with harlots, you killed for him the fatted calf."

This boy pictures himself as the model son. But his use of the world "douleo", "to serve as a slave," gives him away. He has no idea of what being a son means. Which is why he has no idea of what being a father means and why his father should be so full of joy at the return of the prodigal. He complains that he has never been given a kid -- let alone a calf -- for a feast with his friends who, at least, would be responsible and respectable people. A stomach full of goat meat is an occasion for rejoicing. The welcoming home of a lost brother is not. His friends are obviously not those of his own family.

His angry outburst includes accusations of sins not previously mentioned in the parable. Harlots? Riotous living? How does he know what his younger brother has done? Or are these accusations perhaps a projection of those things the older brother would like to do if he weren't so busy being respectable -- keeping the surface highly polished so no one will suspect what is inside.

The older brother is self-righteous. His standing with his father, he thinks, is dependant on his service and obedience. He has never missed a move in his carefully plotted good boy game plan. But he is so wrapped up in his determination to be impeccable and flawless that he completely misses his father's gracious heart. And he is shocked when his sinful brother comes home and receives the father's love in such a natural, uncalculated way.

The father speaks tenderly to his angry son. He assures him that he is not going to change the provisions of the will: "all that is mine is yours." The father doesn't say, "You hypocrite. You don't even have the courage to sin. You have stayed home and respectable only because you lack the nerve to do anything else." No. The father honors the son who served him faithfully. "You are my beloved son. You are always with me. We share everything." But he pleads for joy: "This, your brother, was dead and is alive. He was lost and is found."

The older brother says, "This son of yours did this." the father replied: "This brother of yours is home." The older brother might want to overlook the relationship but it is still there. And there is another relationship that is also there -- the relationship of the father to his children, and his authority over them. The older son is not going to be allowed to tell the father for whom he shall or shall not have a party. Rather, he invites the elder son to the party.

Again, Jesus defines sin as the breaking of a relationship -- the breaking of a heart -- rather than the breaking of a law. Again repentance is required of the older brother in the courtyard as it was required of the younger brother in the pig sty. Again we see the demonstration of the father's great sacrificial love. Again, joy is called for. Again, a son who sees himself as a slave is pleaded with that he might become a son in every full sense of the word.

Jesus closes this parable without a question. No statement. He doesn't say. "He who has ears to hear, let him hear." He doesn't say, "there is more rejoicing over one sinner who repents than over 99 saved." He just ends it. It ends with the dropping of the curtain before the climax. Everyone is waiting to hear how the older brother is going to respond to the outstretched arms of his father.

The curtain falls and the answer is not given. This is because Jesus hopes His Pharisee listeners will see themselves as the angry older brother in the courtyard, find the proper conclusion to the parable in their own hearts and come to the party.

That is the lesson for them. What are the lessons for us?

First, that while it is not good to be in the pig pen, it is equally bad to be in the courtyard angry because God has welcomed someone back from the pig pen without "giving them what they deserve."

In the words of Dr. William Barclay: "we have the amazing truth in this parable, that it is easier to confess to God than it is to many people; that God is more merciful in His judgements than many an orthodox person is: that the love of God is far broader than the love of people; and that God can forgive when people refuse to forgive."

How do we know if we are like the older brother?

Look at how you respond when you see someone coming home from the pig pen. Do you stand there with your arms folded with a disapproving scowl on your face saying, "prove to me that you are sincere"? Or do you come to the party and pass out the hors d'oeuvres? Has anyone ever been discouraged from returning to the Father's house because he or she met us first?

The second lesson for us is that it is possible to do all the right religious things and still miss what the Christian walk is all about.

The God Jesus pictures in this parable is a lover with gusto and a forgiver with abandon. Jesus shows us a God who will act way beneath His own divine dignity to reach out to us. He'll run down the road with his robe flapping behind Him or ignore his guests and come out to reason with us in our anger in the courtyard ... whatever it takes. That's what this parable teaches so clearly.

This suggests that the Christian faith isn't a formula for living. It's not a set of rules to be obeyed. It is, instead, a personal relationship with God himself.

This God didn't call us as slaves. And he doesn't want us be like the older brother in the story and start defining ourselves as slaves -- even though some people think rules are more religious.

Through faith in Jesus Christ we are sons and daughters of God. Sons and daughters. Got it? Not slaves. Not probationary employees. Sons and daughters. That also means that we are brothers and sisters.

Jesus does not finish the parable with an "all lived happily ever after" ending. Lot's of dangling loose ends make us wonder: did the older son ever go to the party? Did his attitude to his brother ever change? More crucial, was he ever able to admit his own need for his father? Jesus does not say. The final curtain comes down as the father stands there with arms outstretched calling to His older son to share his joy.