Two Ways to Go to Hell

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Two Ways to Go to Hell

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The lectionary Gospel passage this coming Sunday is everyone’s favorite parable. The Parable of the Prodigal Son. Or, is it better understood as the Parable of the Prodigal Father? For that matter, which of the father’s two sons is truly the lost boy?

If you read Luke 15 closely, it’s the party that sets him off. Whatever resentments the older brother was harboring, whatever anger lay buried inside him already, it’s the singing and the dancing and the feasting and the rejoicing that send him over the edge. Why shouldn’t it?

Ancient Judaism had clear guidelines for the return of a penitent.

Ancient Judaism was clear about how to handle a prodigal’s homecoming. There was nothing ambiguous in Ancient Judaism about how to treat someone who’d abandoned and disgraced his family.

It was called a kezazah ritual, a cutting off ritual.

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Just as they would have done when the prodigal left for the far country, when he returned home members of his community and members of his family would have filled a barrel with parched corn and nuts. And then in front of everyone, including the children- to teach them an example- they would smash the barrel and declare ‘This disgrace is cut-off from us.”

Having returned home, thus would begin his shame and his penance. So you see, by all means, let the prodigal return, but to bread and water not to fatted calf.

By all means, let him come back, but dress him in sackcloth not in a new robe. Sure, let him come back, but make him wear ashes not a new ring. By all means let the prodigal return, but in tears not in merriment, with his head hung down not with his spirits lifted up. Bring him to his knees before you bring him home. It’s the party that sets him off.

Here’s the thing.

The elder brother— he’s absolutely right.

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Everyone calls this the Parable of the Prodigal Son. Everyone always has, but Jesus doesn’t steer this story so you’ll be confronted by the younger brother. Jesus leaves this story deliberately hanging…

With the elder brother standing outside the celebration, refusing to join in, refusing to swallow his pride, choosing to be right rather than rejoice with the Father.

The prodigal’s sin is obvious. We don’t need a warning story to teach us that it’s wrong to wish our father dead and burn through his fortune on DraftKings. At least, most of us don’t need that kind of warning.

The other brother’s sin is harder to spot, but it’s also closer to home. And Jesus wants us to know that it’s just as treacherous.

I’ve done enough pre-marital, marital, and divorce counseling to know. I’ve planned enough funerals. I’ve led enough small groups and Bible studies to know.

Just about every one of you could tell a story...

about outstanding grievances

about someone who if you saw their name on the invite list you’d say “no thanks” and turn back the other way

about someone who hurt you

or broke something in your life

or took something from you that can never be given back.

Every one of you could give this parable your own details and cast it with the characters in your own life and stage it around your own dining room table. Every one of you could tell a story about a relationship that was left to flounder or half-heal because contrition is still past due.

And I’m sure you’re a good person. You’re probably right in most cases.

I’m sure you have your reasons and your justification. I won’t argue with that. But you should know. You should know what Jesus wants you to know.