Story Of Prodigal Son Challenges Dutiful Siblings

M. REGINA CRAM, CNS

Published: September 23, 2004

The Prodigal Son. It’s one of the most powerful stories ever told, and I never liked it.

A wealthy man had two sons. One day the younger son greedily demanded his inheritance, then fled to a far country where he squandered it on wild living. When he finally came to his senses after nearly starving as a swineherd, he headed home in shame to beg his father’s forgiveness and plead to be hired as a servant.

But the father wouldn’t have it that way. He ignored the fact that his Jewish son was ritually unclean from the pigs. Instead, while the son was still a long way off, his father saw him and his heart went out to him; the father ran and fell on his neck and kissed him. The son started to give his prepared speech, but the father stopped him and called for a celebration. “For this is my son!” he cried. “I thought he was dead, and he’s alive again. I thought I had lost him, and he’s found!”

But a problem awaited them back home. The self-righteous older brother had worked hard for his father all his life, and he was seriously upset that a party was being planned for his kid brother, who had made such a mess of things.

“Look!” the older brother complained bitterly to his father. “How many years have I slaved for you and never disobeyed a single order, and yet you have never given me so much as a young goat so that I could give my friends a dinner? But when that son of yours arrives, who has spent all your money on prostitutes, for him you kill the calf we’ve fattened!”

As a dutiful older sibling myself, I could relate. I, too, used to resent the attention showered on my family’s runaway. It always seemed so unfair.

I finally began to understand after I acquired a wandering prodigal of my own: a small stuffed bunny named Susannah. When Susannah was given to my daughter Tierney as a christening gift years ago, she was clean and bunchy, with two eyes and fur in all the right places. After years of being loved, however, Susannah became gray and balding, and the stuffing bunched around the middle. And Tierney loved her dearly.

Susannah was never far from Tierney’s arms, often joining us for tea parties and grocery trips and strolls through the autumn leaves. Unfortunately, Susannah developed the bad habit of wandering off, and one day when Tierney was 8, it happened for real: Susannah got lost.

We looked everywhere, turning the house upside down and searching the neighborhood in torrential rain, without success. Poor Tierney was heartbroken. Susannah was on Tierney’s mind every night as she fell asleep with empty arms and every morning as she drowsily reached for her tattered friend before remembering that Susannah wasn’t there. For months on end, Tierney never stopped looking, and she never stopped grieving.

Then came the scream of delight when Susannah was discovered in an unused trash bin. Tierney was almost incoherent with joy as she clutched her beloved bunny and sobbed. As I watched, I could picture the father running to meet his wayward son, sobbing with joy.

It humbled me and reminded me again why Jesus was born among us. Yes, it was for dutiful older siblings but also for wandering prodigals who sometimes lose their way.

Until they come home, God never stops looking and never stops grieving and never gives up.