A lifetime ago, I had a class at BYU called "The Bible as Literature" (English 350). To this day, it rests near the top of my list of very, very favorite classes ever. We studied the literary forms of the different bible stories, how they are put together, how they are meant to be read and understood, attempted to understand better what the different elements of the author's (pop quiz; how many biblical authors can you think of that scribed multiple-Bible-books? Moses, Jeremiah, David, Luke, John...) complete works really meant. It was taught by
Steven Walker, one of the best teachers I've ever had. And I'm not just saying that because my first class with him (on J.R.R. Tolkien!) led to me meeting my wife
!That's a tale for another blog post.
One of our class assignments was to write a Psalm, to help us really understand what it means to worship in a Psalmic fashion. Brother Walker made a point of telling us he was
not assigning us to create a parable, because parables are perhaps the most difficult literary form to construct effectively. He marvelled at the expertise and craft of Jesus at making parables, and his wonder was contagious. He challenged us to find any author, anywhere, who created anything near the quantity or quality of the parables Jesus authored. There are virtually no other parables extant in the scriptures, and even the occasional parables offered by modern prophets and apostles are weak in comparison.
Most earnest students of the bible know the bit Jesus said about parables being "given unto you to know the mysteries of heaven, but unto (everyone else) it is not given...That seeing, they see not, and hearing, they hear not." Parables were a bit subversive. Jesus could communicate scathing rebukes aimed at important people, without incurring their wrath. They held forth doctrine about sensitive or exalting principles that only the worthy in heart would truly understand, because the Holy Ghost could help them interpret it.
But Brother Walker taught us about another fundamental feature of parables. A working parable is one that can be read by anyone, with the reader being able to put himself in the position of any character in the parable. So when Jesus talks about the parable of the Good Samaritan, there are lessons to be learned from the perspective of the man who gets beat up, and the priest, and the Levite, or the innkeeper and even the thieves, as well as the "Good Samaritan."
It is interesting to me, that Jesus himself never names the parables. The Lost Sheep, the Prodigal Son, The Good Samaritan, are all names we have attached to the stories, often to negative effect in my opinion. It implies that the title is the lesson, and with parables, this is never the case. The word "prodigal" isn't even in the parable of the prodigal son. It isn't even in the Bible! Do you even know what
prodigal means? It's from the same root as prodigious...
I digress, even.
In the parable of the prodigal son, most LDS readers read it from the perspective of "the good son." That's because if we are LDS, and considering the parable, we are probably active in the church, and hence, are being "good." There was a video produced by the church alluding to this parable, about a man in business with one son, who has a second son who had left home when he was young, and pretty much lived a morally bankrupt life. The second son returns, is welcomed back into the home by his Dad, and the "good" son mopes around, worried about how everyone has accepted this return.
It's a video to trouble the comfortable. Anyone who has ever had the trial of a family member dealing with substance abuse knows how dangerous a period of reformation is. Addiction is powerful, a hobbling burden. People suffering with it make destructive choices, often doing enormous harm to the people they are closest to. A family member returned home disclaiming their bad choices is often just a time bomb, which goes off catastrophically later. So we watch this film, and either
- Shake our head sadly that the big brother is so hard-hearted and unforgiving, or
- Furrow our brows in discomfort that the addict's family is so trusting at his reformation
The discomfort you might feel watching the video is the very lesson Jesus is teaching about. That's one point of the parable. Who are we to second-guess our Father, if he says a wayward child has declared repentance? Importantly, we are not supposed to judge the veracity of someone's declaration of repentance, unless we are in the
very specific circumstance of serving as a judge (if you aren't sure? yeah, that means you are NOT in a position to judge).
And that's hard. The natural man competes and bristles at the appearance of unfairness. Especially if someone else who didn't work as hard us gets the same reward. Or in the prodigal son parable, recognition that seems to ignore the possibility of deceipt. I think the emphasis of the church video, on the "good son," stems from the assumption that most viewers consider the parable from that perspective, so it probably over-emphasizes that part of the lesson;
DON'T BE JEALOUS WHEN GOD FORGIVES THE SINS OF OTHERS.
But remember, the parable isn't just about the "good son." It's about the parent, who forgives in an instant years of grief and heartbreak. We should all be parents like that, ready to show an increase of love. And, it's about the prodigal son.
Years ago (back before I started taking the
train to work, I was listening to the radio in my car, while a radio commentator related a story about his sheep ranch. A small herd of sheep went missing during a storm, and despite all his efforts to look for them, they seemed to have been lost for good in the canyons and hills on the edge of his ranch. Weeks later, on a lark, he crossed over a river that the sheep shouldn't have been able to ford, on the off-chance they'd somehow crossed anyway. He found a pasture, which was supposed to be empty of livestock, but was eaten down. He followed the eaten down grass, and found his lost sheep. They were sick, and looked awful for the lack of tending. He gathered them all up, and went back to the ranch to tend them, and share the news that they'd been found.
He ended his story with the bible quote about the joy of the shepherd at the lost sheep which returns, and I kind of shrugged in my mind at the unoriginalness of the story. I'd heard it so many times growing up, that I thought I understood it. And I thought to myself, "How unfair it must seem to all the other
unlost sheep! All the fuss about knuckle-headed sheep returning, what about all of the sheep who weren't dumb enough to get lost in the first place!"
This doesn't happen to me often, but I heard words form in my mind, an actual male voice speaking. "
Everyone gets lost." And I learned what the parable is many things at once, a call to action to look for the lost, a warning not to stray. But in that moment, I felt a loving, sheltering arm settle across my shoulders, and knew it was also this truth; God will always welcome us back. He will never stop hoping for our return. We should rejoice when a wayward soul repents and rejoins the flock, but that we all have moments, or weeks, or years of doubt or waywardness, and God rejoices when WE return to the flock.
So too, with the parable of the prodigal son. The lesson isn't just to tolerate the vows of repentance of a wayward son, but that we can expect the same reception when we repent of our own waywardness.
Thank you Brother Walker for helping me to have ears to listen.
This is my middle daughter, industriously raking leaves.
Final tally was nearly 50 bags! I had no idea it would take so many. 3 hours of (mostly) hard work.
