Prodigal

For as many times as I’ve read the story of the Prodigal Son, (Luke 15:11-32) I’m never certain how the story will strike me.  Today, I share may latest reflection live (as in hive) and in composition from HI’s chapel.

Prodigal … spending resources freely and recklessly, wastefully extravagant, giving on a lavish scale.

“Where’s the fire?”  A reclining servant questioned as others raced chaotic as ants with mission and purpose.

“Remember our master’s young son?”  A field worker reminded him.

“Yeah, the one always drinking, whoring our women, thinking he was better than everyone else.  Ran off with daddy’s money.” 

The field worker nodded.  “Saw him earlier, today.”  He shared as if he was the first to know.  “While channeling water to the wheat, I didn’t recognize the rogue walking up the road off some distance away, but our master came down the road past me in a hurry, determined.  He had no doubt.  No guards, no weapons.  Hell, I could have killed him.”  Mud creased his dimples as if he’d committed a noble act.

The reclining servant sat up, attentive.  Unknown to the servant, the farmer hated him especially after he was elevated in privilege over the farmer.  However, the servant waited to understand the flurry of activity that had erupted around him.  The farmer appeared visibly confused with the father’s actions.  Why tell the servant, a man he loathed?  He didn’t deserve to know.

The farmer recounted what he’d seen.  “The kid smelled like swine, his hair tangled, matted filth with the mange.  His bare feet swollen, callused, toenails blackened.  His skin hung like hide on a rack, nearly naked except for rags he wore.”

“Whoa…  He got less than he deserved!”  The servant interrupted.  “Appeared greed consumed the son of a bitch and spit him back out.  Surprised a landlord along his trek home didn’t indenture him into labor or beat him to death for sport!”

“You would think.”  Servants scurried carrying fine linen and ornate pottery.  “But with tears of joy in his eyes, our lord embraced the stench and dressed him in a fine robe … and gave him a ring!”

            “He gave the bastard a lordship’s ring; one he can seal contracts?”

            “Yes.” 

            “Where’s the justice?  All hell’s going to break loose!  Doesn’t make sense.  The master should have him beaten, cast into darkness, eat the slop of our cattle, wear scraps from the servants’ quarters.  He was given his father’s wealth, gifts.  The boy is done!  His father must throw him off his land, sell him to another lord.”  The servant stood with pronouncing judgement.  He warned.  “Others among us will see this wasted kindness … such ridiculous extravagance.  These actions will ruin the father.  People from within and from other lands will see him as weak.  They will plot to ransack him, kill him.  The older son is now justified in overthrowing his own father!”

            “His ways are obviously not your ways.” The farmer reminded him of their positions of servitude.

            The servant sat again thus refusing to join preparations for the rebellious son’s homecoming.  “Screw the spineless master and his stupid son.  I’ve already put in a hard day mending rock fence for cattle.”

            “You’re not the only one …”  The farmer paused.  His mind struggled to unravel the entangled mess.  “The older son is pissed.  He’s jealous, demanding his father elevate him above his brother.”

            “What’d I just tell you?  The master’s kingdom is already unraveling.  This celebration is all smoke and mirrors.”  He paused, eyes slit to those of a viper.  “I bet the master is setting his younger son up so that he can beat the shit out the thankless wretch in front of all of us, relatives and servants alike, to reestablish, reinforce his power.  Punish the reckless kid before us all.  Show us his strength, his might.  The older son is more than justified.”  The servant stood and casually moved toward the enormous wine jugs.  “I want to see this.  There is going to be satisfaction for everybody except the errant son.  Our master is a cunning, wise man.  He knows where power comes from and how to maintain it.  Strike fear in us all!  Either fall in line or be banished.”

            “You’re going to be disappointed.”  The wheat farmer told him what he knew to be true.  “The master recognized his son from a far greater distance, far sooner than I.  I saw mercy and gratitude in our master’s eyes for his son choosing to come home.  His son returned, shamed, guilty, embarrassed…  Since the boy was a child, his father has remained the same man.   But I imagine the son desires to know his father in a new way for I heard him admit ‘I have sinned against you.’  It seems to me; the father is punishing his son through loving him more.  I don’t understand it!  I hope the older son can appreciate his father’s mercy and reconcile with his brother.”

            “You got shit for brains!  You’re in for one hell of a surprise!”  The man circled behind a wine jug to secure a grip.

            With callused hands, the farmer approached him.  “Remember when our chief servant flogged me?  Ripped open my flesh and bled me before all the servants.  Then threw salt into my deep cuts.”  The farmer leveraged his weight down upon the servant’s jug.  “You were there.  You thought I didn’t know it was you who stole the salted meat!  You accepted an elevated position over me.  I have hated you for that.”

            The true thief froze mentally arranging his defense, preparing to lie.

            “The scars I can not erase…”  The farmer eased his force on the jug.  “Your act of betrayal is behind me.  From today on, we mend our relationship…  You think the father foolish.  I find him to be a man of exceptional wealth!”

Who is the prodigal son in the parable?

The servant thought the father to be a fool, a man of abundant wealth who gave it away to a thankless son and … even more foolish to accept his son back.  On the other hand, though confused, the farmer followed the actions of the father, his master.  He realized the father is the prodigal Son, our Father, one who gave his real wealth, his love freely and recklessly, wastefully extravagant, lavishly to transform and restore not only his son, but all who encountered him. What is your response as the father notices you from a distance and races to greet you?