The Evangelical Universalist Forum

The Return of the Prodigals

Evangelical Universalism
#1

What do you think? Did the prodigal really repent? Did the elder brother eventually give in and follow dad into the party? What happened next? Don’t miss this week’s episode of “Bible Stories of the Young and Restless!”

Seriously though, the parable of the Prodigal Son (or perhaps more aptly, the Loving Father) is an important one to us, I think. Who does the prodigal son represent in the parable? And to whom would we compare him today? What about the elder brother? Did he have a legitimate gripe? What did it mean for him to refuse to join the party? Why did the old patriarch run? What did the prodigal REALLY want from his pop?

I started to join the discussion here: [Hello All) but then I thought it might be better to give it its own heading so folks could find it. For clarity and continuity I’ll reproduce the posts that have already been posted here:

#2

Allan,

I think that in the original parable the prodigal probably represented the outcasts of Israel – those sinners and tax collectors Jesus was always having dinner with, you know – and in a broader sense probably also “the nations” separated from God. The elder brother I see as the Pharisees and priests who fancied themselves close to God, but who were as worldly and far from His heart as any sinner – maybe farther.

Based on that, I suspect we in the church are more in danger of being identified with the elder brother who insisted on insulting and shaming his father by refusing to join the party welcoming his naughty little brother home. It would have been his place to host, and questions would be asked – the whole village would be buzzing – the father “should” have commanded the elder son to come, or should have severely chastised him for refusing. Instead he leaves the party and his guests to go and plead with his son to receive his brother back. Shameful, for a patriarch to act like that. Shameful for him to run to receive his younger son instead of driving him away.

Our God is shamefully merciful. I wonder whether that might not be part of the reason some (not all, certainly) people reject the idea of universal reconciliation?

#3

It’s an annoying thing about parables: you can never quite tell if and when you’ve got the message! Maybe it’s a good thing, especially if it’s not all about getting messages.

Was the prodigal son conniving or sincere on his return? Are we conniving or sincere on our return to God, in our love for him and each other? Would we be on God’s side even if we knew he would lose in the end with all heaven falling into darkness and ruin? The fires of Ragnarok. What if there really was nothing in it for us but to die with him?

Was it Job who said, “Though he kill me, yet will I love him.”

As Daniel’s friends: “Our God can save us from the fire, but even if he doesn’t, we will not bow down to your idols.”

And Puddleglum: “I’m on Aslan’s side, even if there isn’t any Aslan…”

I’ve always liked Bonhoeffer’s poem:

Men go to God when they are sore bestead,
Pray to him for succour, for his peace, for bread,
For mercy for them sick, sinning, or dead;
All men do so, Christian and unbelieving.

Men go to God when he is sore bestead,
Find him poor and scorned, without shelter or bread,
Whelmed under weight of the wicked, the weak, the dead;
Christians stand by God in his hour of grieving.

God goes to every man when sore bestead,
Feeds body and spirit with his bread;
For Christians, pagan alike he hangs dead,
And both alike forgiving.

What does it mean to stand by God in his hour of grieving? If we Christians thought more about bringing God comfort in his suffering and less about being comforted ourselves, I can’t help thinking the world would turn a deal more smoothly.

#4

Wow! Great points, Allen. I think you bring up an important consideration. Before I believed in UR I used to feel the need to comfort Father whenever I heard of someone who had died, apparently without repenting. How grief-stricken He must be. Now I know that He grieves as I grieve for lost children, though He KNOWS they will return. While I wish I DIDN’T know how He must feel (according to my small, small ability), I’m also grateful to have some idea of it. It’s hard to explain how one could grieve over something (someone) who isn’t ultimately lost. But you can and DO grieve over lost children as long as they’re lost. You just do.

But regarding the prodigal son, I wonder if it isn’t kind of like what Paul said; we love Him because He first loved us. The prodigal returning maybe (probably?) didn’t come home with honorable intentions but rather with his raw need, and was won over by his father’s scandalous love . . . or is being won . . . or will be won. Maybe you’re right after all. Certainly at least some in the established church ARE the prodigal returning, but not yet in love with the Father. I really think the older son is the tougher nut to crack. Of course some of the prodigals are pretty clueless . . . .

#5

And I would think, “It’s so sad that God didn’t choose to save that person.” :open_mouth: To think that God intentionally doesn’t save many people has a negative effect on one’s ability to really love all people. At least it did for me. When I began to believe UR, my view of others changed dramatically. I think Allan said something like that recently in another thread.

Perhaps God is willing to take us however we come? If we come to Him, He can begin to teach us? He can also discipline us if we will not be taught.

Sonia

#6

Wow! No kidding! I never knew what “reformed” even meant until recently. The idea that some folks believed God didn’t choose to save some was completely new to me as recently as a couple of years ago. (I grew up a Methodist and then went to the AoG – have never attended a Calvinist church except an occasional visit to the Baptists for a special speaker (Corrie Ten Boom for one, and she didn’t talk about double predestination!))

I can see how that would be a major stumbling block to someone who also took seriously God’s command to love our enemies (not to mention our unbelieving friends and all those unsuspecting people who die never having heard His name!)

I agree with Allen, too. It’s a wonderful joy to drive downtown looking at the people and not feel afraid for them or worry about their bad choices and to KNOW they are irrevocably my brothers and sisters whom I will come to know and love. Aside from the love of our Papa, what could be better? :smiley: And yes, coming home is better than not coming home. Always. Even if it takes a LONG time to begin to see true love.

#7

For extra bonus fun, watch standard interpreters struggling to figure out where Christ is supposed to be in the parable! :wink:

(It’s easy to identify the father as God, but there is no Christ-figure per se. That’s surely a warning against interpreting parables based on what they don’t talk about.)

#8

I think it’s mistake to try to align the prodigal and the brother with any section of society. Anyone can reject God, anyone can come back anyone can be accepted.

I agree with the point about everyone praying in extreme circumstances. From a short story that made it to runner-up in the Jim Baen memorial contest:

*I’d spoken to the astronauts who were going to operate the experiments but, since I’d just about made everything automatic, there was hardly any briefing for me to do. All I had to do was look pretty for TV and use my laptop to analyse the data as it came in.

There are no atheists during a launch. When people you know and like are sitting on top of a few hundred tons of sudden, fiery death and the launch sequencer is ticking down, even the most hardened unbeliever will try to put in a few words with him upstairs. I know I did.

It went, as good launches should, with minimum fuss. The shuttle left the pad with a flash and a roar, the SRB’s fell away, the tank followed them and the orbiter slid effortlessly into space. Then there was a producer talking in my earplug and I got down to work.*