This familiar parable is the last of three parables that Jesus uses to portray the Father's welcoming attitude towards lost or wandering 'little ones'. Yet unlike preceding parables, the ‘lost sinners’ are no longer portrayed as an animal, an object, or even as one of the servants in this wealthy man's household—but as his much-loved sons. And the elder ‘good son’ needs redemption as much as the younger ‘bad son’. Kenneth E. Bailey, drawing from his personal experiences in the Middle East,[ii] points out first of all how both sons in the parable are young adults. Both have responsibility for the family property, yet both act more like minors—like servants focused on duties and rights.

Secondly, both are afraid. The youngest is afraid to even use the word 'inheritance', as this would imply responsibility to defend family honor and guard the family ‘property’ (Bailey: 32). Even when he tries to make things right on his return—by asking to be restored as a day laborer in his father's household—he is not fully facing up to what he has done as a son. The eldest son's fear stems from his ‘severe’ view of his father, and of life in general. He is afraid to ask even for a young goat in order to throw a party for his friends because he sees his father as a master whom he must dutifully ‘serve’, even though his father's attitude of ‘all my things are yours' is apparent right from the beginning. To a Middle Eastern audience, he would also appear to have a broken relationship with his brother. For there is no mention of him playing his expected role as eldest son: to mediate between his father and his brother—to plead with the latter not to convert his share of the estate into cash and leave with it (Bailey: 34-35).

Thirdly, both sons bring dishonor to the family and to their father's good name. The youngest does this, by converting the family property into cash to use on himself. This is an insult to his father—treating him as already dead—and thus a shame to his father's clan. And no honorable person in the village would have purchased such property. No law has been broken. Yet because he has publically shamed his father, the younger son’s relationship with his father is 'dead' and his place in the house forfeit. Likewise with the eldest son—who has fulfilled the letter of the law by not ignoring any of his father's commands. Yet this ‘good son’ too dishonors his father's name, by refusing to go into his father's house to play another 'eldest son' role: serving someone his father has received as an honored guest (Bailey: 68). He further insults his father by the disrespectful way he speaks to him, undoubtedly overheard by other guests (Bailey: 71).

Besides describing sin in terms of broken family relationships and shame-producing behavior, this parable also shows us how our heavenly Father still loves us and greatly values us as his sons and daughters. Even our most shameful behaviors and failures do not dim our value in his sight, and how his eyes light up when we again draw near to him. Still thinking of us as his sons and daughters, he greets the slightest move toward repentance with exuberant joy and celebration. The father's open, vulnerable love is also exhibited in the redemptive actions he takes, towards both of his sons; and these reflect the deepest meaning of the cross. He takes the shame of the youngest son on himself by running—something no man over 30-years-old in the Middle East would do. By lifting his robe and exposing his legs—in order to run—he also publicly humiliates himself, rather than have the scorn of the village focus on his returning son (Bailey: 42,54-55). A similar act of costly redemption occurs with the eldest son. Instead of commanding him to come inside, the father again humiliates himself by going out to him—taking his son's shame on himself (Bailey: 69).

A Moroccan friend once told me that if he were to bring shame on his family, his father would have to send him away to preserve the family honor. ‘Could his father forgive him and restore him?’ I asked. ‘Yes’ he replied, ‘but he would have to love me a lot to allow me to come back; for then the shame would be on him.’ ‘Could the father do anything to remove that shame?’ I asked. ‘He would have to die’ he replied; ‘then the shame would die with him.’ In Middle Eastern cultures, the eldest son has the same responsibility for the family name as the father. Thus, God—as our Father—had to send Adam and Eve away from the Garden to preserve the honor of the family name.[iii] But then he sent his Word as our Eldest Brother to restore the family name by his sinless life. And when Jesus publicly took our shame on himself on the cross and died with it, as our kinsman-redeemer (Med.#7), our Father was ‘in Christ reconciling’ all of us to himself (2 Cor.5:19,21).

Finally, the parable reveals our Father's goal: to relate to us as adult sons and daughters. Thus, he is careful not to command our love in return for his; and he does not immediately try to close the distance between himself and us. Yet he is always ready to run to us or to come reason with us, addressing us intimately as ‘dear child’. Yet since his intent is to share everything with us, he receives us back as co-heirs with Christ—through his costly redemption—by giving us his Holy Spirit (the ‘ring' of authority).

Whatever shame you brought to your Father's name has been dealt with on the cross—which expresses also his deep commitment to you! Are you embracing it today? And also your Father's joy over you?—and over any of your brothers or sisters who take repentant steps to return to him and receive his ring of authority?