Commentary on the Text of Luke 15.20-24
by Lee Magness
15.20
And he rose and came to his own father. καὶ ἀναστὰς ἦλθεν πρὸς τὸν πατέρα ἑαυτοῦ.
The resolve to return becomes reality with these words. The action is described with a participle (“having arisen”) and a verb (“he went” or “he came,” depending on whether we are viewing events from the perspective of the far country or from home). Together the words imply two separate but related actions that are part-and-parcel of each other—“he arose and went.” The expression suggests sudden movement, as if once the resolution was made there was no stopping him. There would have been precious little to pack, no loose ends to tie up, no friends to find for a fond farewell. He rose and went.
And where does he so suddenly go? Not home, although home would have been the antithesis of and the antidote for the far country in which the son had been wallowing for some time. And not to his family, although family would have been the antithesis of and antidote for the friendless, foodless loneliness he endured among the swine. No, he went to the father. He is returning to a person not a place. And not just any father, but ”his own” father. Some readers of Luke think this emphatic reflexive adjective means nothing more than “his.” But there has been a steady progression: from “a man” (verse 11) to “the father” (verse 12) to “my father” (verse 18) and now to “his own father” (verse 20). The adjective reinforces the reality of a powerful relationship that lies at the heart of the return.
Do we learn anything from this simple description of the son’s actions?
1) Whatever we may make of his motives, the son acted on his resolve. The sudden action may strike some as
impetuous, as self-centered or desperate or as ill-conceived as the flight from his father had been. He does
indeed act decisively, but it is an action in the right direction, father-ward. This parable describes the
movement of son toward father, even as father moves toward son.
2) He may have been thinking of his finances or food or his family or the old home place, but it is to his father that he
returns. This parable reminds us that, although there may be “no place like home,” there is no person like the
father, our own father, no one like God.
And while he was still far away his father saw him
and he was overcome with compassion and ran and fell on his neck
and began to kiss him.
ἔτι δὲ αὐτοῦ μακρὰν ἀπέχοντος εἶδεν αὐτὸν ὁ πατὴρ αὐτοῦ
καὶ ἐσπλαγχνίσθη καὶ δραμὼν ἐπέπεσεν ἐπὶ τὸν τράχηλον αὐτοῦ
καὶ κατεφίλησεν αὐτόν.
Although this sentence emphasizes the actions of the father, it begins with its focus still on the son. The word for “far” away is the same as the word for the “far” country. The phrase not only pictures a father, hopefully scanning the horizon, leaning his eyes down the long lane, in eager anticipation of his son’s someday return. It also suggests that the father is with the son while he is still far away, headed in the right direction but separated by distance and disposition. The father does not wait for the full return of the son, much less his full repentance, to reach out in hopes of reestablishing his relationship with the son.
The language picks up speed along with the parable. The father sees and feels and runs and falls and kisses, as if this cluster of actions was one overwhelming emotional and physical response to the sight of the son. He sees because he was seeking the son, just one glimpse. He is moved with compassion because ever since the son’s departure the father has felt that pitiful knot in the pit of his stomach, that mercy-shaped memory like a missing piece of his mind. He runs because he has waited too long and must shorten the distance between himself and his son. He embraces him because there is no longer any room for space between them. And he kisses him because his affection for his son has not abated even in his son’s abandonment.
Another important implication of this sentence is that all these extraordinary actions, all these evidences of grace, come well before the son has reached home or reached out to the father, long before any words of regret or repentance or reconciliation. Yes, the son has headed home, a decision that we must not diminish even if it flows from mere desperation rather than sincere repentance. But the father seizes the initiative at the first sign of return. He acts and acts and acts and acts, his actions unmatched, unreciprocated, in one great gush of grace.
How might we apply this passage in our attempts to internalize the parable?
1) The son senses the father while he is still in the far country and the father sees the son while he is still far away.
This parable anticipates the insight of Paul that Christ died for us “while we were still sinners,” still far away
(Romans 5.8).
2) Every action of the father conveys grace, every movement expresses mercy. Even before his words of welcome
he speaks in the sign-language of forgiveness. This parable models for us not only a life that verbalizes mercy,
but one that acts out mercy, breathes mercy.
3) Although we were created to “search for God and perhaps grope after him and find him” (Acts 17.27), God’s grace
takes the initiative over our groping. This is the parable that proclaims God’s grace not as a begrudging
reaction to our repentance and confession of sins, but as the constant flow of compassion and forgiveness into
which we step when we turn to God.
15.21
And the son said to him, Father,
I sinned against heaven and before you,
no longer am I worthy to be called your son.
εἶπεν δὲ ὁ υἱὸς αὐτῷ, Πάτερ,
ἥμαρτον εἰς τὸν οὐρανὸν καὶ ἐνώπιόν σου,
οὐκέτι εἰμὶ ἄξιος κληθῆναι υἱός σου.
These words should sound very familiar to us. They are identical to the words the younger son rehearsed in the far country. We read them in verses 18-19. What do we make of the fact that he speaks the same words? Weren't those the sentiments of separation, expressing the attitudes of alienation, the language of the far country? Hasn't everything changed? Isn't he home now? Hasn't the father already embraced him, covered him with kisses, showered him with unexpected and undeserved compassion? Yes, but these words are all the more appropriate. In fact, even though they are the same words, they have a very different significance. Even if, as some say, the son's well-planned speech was insincere, mere remorse at the best and manipulation at the worst, not true repentance, the context and therefore the meaning of the speech has changed. Now, in the face of forgiveness, with the father's mercy unmasked, the words are a true confession of sinful behavior, unworthy of his son-like relationship to his father. However the words were planned, they have poured out as repentance.
Yes, the son who had treated his father in an unfatherly manner now calls him, Father. Yes, his father's compassion has highlighted his sin, against God and in the sight of his father. And yes, his father's unmerited favor spotlights his violation of his relationship with his father as his true sin. But remember, the son hard thought all these thoughts and said all these words while he was still in the far country, still in the pigpen, still in sin. Although his position and his pasture have changed, the son's sense of his relationship has never wavered. Although his actions did not always honor that relationship, the son was always aware of it.
Another thing to notice in verse 21 is that the son does not finish his well-rehearsed speech. He had planned to add, "Make me as one of your hired hands." Why are those words omitted here? There are two possible explanations, which are not necessarily mutually exclusive. First, the father may have interrupted his son's speech. Before the son was able to suggest the only solution his humble repentance could imagine (or the more cynical explanation, the only solution his manipulative, unrepentant heart could conceive of), the father cut him off. Enough of this! I'm calling the shots here. My compassion will determine my conduct, not your repentance or your manipulation. Second, the son may have realized that in the face of his father's forgiveness, in the context of his overwhelming compassion, the rest of his speech was unnecessary, non-sensical. The father's actions had already made it clear that he viewed and planned to relate to the prodigal as the son he was, not as the hired hand he was willing to be. Enough said! His compassion will determine my conduct. I won't say anything to contradict his compassion.
What do we learn from the son's rehearsal of his planned speech?
1) This is the parable that teaches us that repentance is not what we do to earn or elicit God's grace but what we do in
response to God's overwhelming and amazing grace.
2) This is the parable that reminds us that sin may mar but it does not utterly annihilate our relationship with God, a
relationship of which God and we remain aware no matter our circumstances.
3) This is the parable that teaches us to view our selves and our relationships in the light of God's evaluations not our
own, to accommodate our human solutions to our sinful situations to God's divine plan.
15.22
And the father said to his slaves,
Quick, bring the best robe and dress him,
and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet.
εἶπεν δὲ ὁ πατὴρ πρὸς τοὺς δούλους αὐτοῦ,
Ταχὺ ἐξενέγκατε στολὴν τὴν πρώτην καὶ ἐνδύσατε αὐτόν,
καὶ δότε δακτύλιον εἰς τὴν χεῖρα αὐτοῦ καὶ ὑποδήματα εἰς τοὺς πόδας,
When the father speaks, it is not to his son but to his servants. Why doesn't he respond verbally to his son's speech about sin and sonship? Actions have already spoken louder than words--running, embracing, kissing. And actions--"quick" actions, actions which illustrate the father's compassion and eliminate any further need for the son's solution--will continue to speak louder than words--bring, dressing, slaughtering. By the way these servants are household slaves, close at hand to do the master's bidding. They are not the hired hands the younger son had once thought of working among.
The first gift to be brought to the returned son is a robe. The Greek word is the source of our word "stole," a long stately robe worn in Jesus' day by priests and scribes and anyone wealthy or honored. English translations call it the "best" robe, suggesting that this is the robe of status. The son is no slave, no servant, not even a hired hand; he is a person of status, despite his recent renegade lifestyle, he is the son. This idea of status is borne out by the Greek phrase, "first" robe. But there is another way to translate the Greek word "first." It can also mean "former." In that case, the word denotes not only status but reinstatement. The robe confers on the prodigal son a reinstatement of his original place within the family. Either way, the robe is not to be hung on the wall as a trophy or symbol, it is to be worn immediately. No further meritorious action by the son is needed.
The second gift is a ring for his finger. This ring was no simple piece of jewelry, no mere adornment of his body. It is the symbol of his authority. Signet rings were worn by rulers and leaders. They usually bore the emblem of the ruler--either a carving of their likeness or their initials or some other symbol of their person. They were used by impressing them into hot wax to confirm a command or seal a significant communication. So the father is restoring not only the son's status (the robe) but his authority to make wise and authoritative decisions (the ring) within the family structure, all without proving his worthiness to rule.
The third gift is sandals for his feet. Whatever footwear the son wore as he began his journey must by now be gone or in a state of ruin. There would be a practical need for a good pair of sandals. But sandals stood for much more. Slaves went barefoot as one symbol of their servitude, their loss of freedom. So a gift of sandals was a conferral of freedom, a recognition of the son's full rights as a free heir of the father, in contrast to the very slaves who were bearing these gifts. This gift completes the full restoration of the son's sonship--his rank, his rule, his rights, his status, his authority, his freedom.
A final word about these gifts. The father gives the son gifts the son has not asked for. All he could imagine were bread and a job as a hired hand. What he receives are a lofty rank, and responsible rule, and freedom. The father gives gifts the son assumes he does not deserve, and in fact he does not.
What insights into the father's response to the return emerge from this verse?
1) This parable teaches us that when it comes to compassion, in relation to reconciliation, actions often speak louder,
and better, than words.
2) This parable reminds us that in salvation God's grace bestows on us a reinstatement of our status as heirs, of our
significant role in the reign of God's kingdom, and of our freedom from law, sin, and death, our freedom to freely
serve.
3) This parable reveals that God's response to our return is more than forgiveness, as wonderful as that is; God
responds with a full restitution of our intended rank, responsibility, and rights.
4) This parable confirms the teaching of Jesus that God gives us what we don't even realize we need, other than we
want, more than we need, better than we desire.
15.23-24
And bring the calf, the grain-fed one, slaughter it,
and let's eat and celebrate,
because this my son was dead and came back to life,
he was lost and was found.
And they began to celebrate.
καὶ φέρετε τὸν μόσχον τὸν σιτευτόν, θύσατε,
καὶ φαγόντες εὐφρανθῶμεν,
ὅτι οὗτος ὁ υἱός μου νεκρὸς ἦν καὶ ἀνέζησεν,
ἦν ἀπολωλὼς καὶ εὑρέθη.
καὶ ἤρξαντο εὐφραίνεσθαι.
The next order to the household slaves is to slaughter the calf that was being saved for a special occasion. This one that had not been left to graze on the dry scrub brush of Palestine. It had been fed by hand with the riches grains and most nutritious grasses so that its meat would be tender and tasty. Only the best gifts and now only the best dish. All this comes at a price of course, a slaughter, a death, but more on that when we discuss the theological significance of the parable.
What about the statement that the son has been dead and has now come back to life? Is that a hyperbole? And exaggerated, dramatic way to describe the younger son's long absence from the family circle? Perhaps. But it may represent the fact that any son who had acted so insultingly toward his father would have been considered legally dead, even though he was physically alive. The actions of the father that restored the status of sonship would have reversed that legal "death."
And what about the notion that the son has been lost. This metaphor of alienation and separation clearly ties the parable of the sons back to the parables of the sheep and coin, two objects that were literally lost.
The last order in response to the return of the son is the command to eat and celebrate. These two actions are grammatically inseparable because they were culturally inseparable. Eating was by nature celebratory, and celebrations always involved eating. And this was at least one command of the father's that was obeyed--"and they began to celebrate"--or was it?
What do we learn from this passage in which we reach the climax of the saga of the younger son?
1) This parable sheds light on a terrifying fact: that sin, separation from God, a broken relationship with God creates a
kind of spiritual death in the midst of our physical existence that can only overcome by a death that brings life.
2) This parable should convince us that the God of salvation is the God of celebration, of finding, of feasting. The joy
of the shepherd and of the woman is shared by the father and it is the joy of God.
And he rose and came to his own father. καὶ ἀναστὰς ἦλθεν πρὸς τὸν πατέρα ἑαυτοῦ.
The resolve to return becomes reality with these words. The action is described with a participle (“having arisen”) and a verb (“he went” or “he came,” depending on whether we are viewing events from the perspective of the far country or from home). Together the words imply two separate but related actions that are part-and-parcel of each other—“he arose and went.” The expression suggests sudden movement, as if once the resolution was made there was no stopping him. There would have been precious little to pack, no loose ends to tie up, no friends to find for a fond farewell. He rose and went.
And where does he so suddenly go? Not home, although home would have been the antithesis of and the antidote for the far country in which the son had been wallowing for some time. And not to his family, although family would have been the antithesis of and antidote for the friendless, foodless loneliness he endured among the swine. No, he went to the father. He is returning to a person not a place. And not just any father, but ”his own” father. Some readers of Luke think this emphatic reflexive adjective means nothing more than “his.” But there has been a steady progression: from “a man” (verse 11) to “the father” (verse 12) to “my father” (verse 18) and now to “his own father” (verse 20). The adjective reinforces the reality of a powerful relationship that lies at the heart of the return.
Do we learn anything from this simple description of the son’s actions?
1) Whatever we may make of his motives, the son acted on his resolve. The sudden action may strike some as
impetuous, as self-centered or desperate or as ill-conceived as the flight from his father had been. He does
indeed act decisively, but it is an action in the right direction, father-ward. This parable describes the
movement of son toward father, even as father moves toward son.
2) He may have been thinking of his finances or food or his family or the old home place, but it is to his father that he
returns. This parable reminds us that, although there may be “no place like home,” there is no person like the
father, our own father, no one like God.
And while he was still far away his father saw him
and he was overcome with compassion and ran and fell on his neck
and began to kiss him.
ἔτι δὲ αὐτοῦ μακρὰν ἀπέχοντος εἶδεν αὐτὸν ὁ πατὴρ αὐτοῦ
καὶ ἐσπλαγχνίσθη καὶ δραμὼν ἐπέπεσεν ἐπὶ τὸν τράχηλον αὐτοῦ
καὶ κατεφίλησεν αὐτόν.
Although this sentence emphasizes the actions of the father, it begins with its focus still on the son. The word for “far” away is the same as the word for the “far” country. The phrase not only pictures a father, hopefully scanning the horizon, leaning his eyes down the long lane, in eager anticipation of his son’s someday return. It also suggests that the father is with the son while he is still far away, headed in the right direction but separated by distance and disposition. The father does not wait for the full return of the son, much less his full repentance, to reach out in hopes of reestablishing his relationship with the son.
The language picks up speed along with the parable. The father sees and feels and runs and falls and kisses, as if this cluster of actions was one overwhelming emotional and physical response to the sight of the son. He sees because he was seeking the son, just one glimpse. He is moved with compassion because ever since the son’s departure the father has felt that pitiful knot in the pit of his stomach, that mercy-shaped memory like a missing piece of his mind. He runs because he has waited too long and must shorten the distance between himself and his son. He embraces him because there is no longer any room for space between them. And he kisses him because his affection for his son has not abated even in his son’s abandonment.
Another important implication of this sentence is that all these extraordinary actions, all these evidences of grace, come well before the son has reached home or reached out to the father, long before any words of regret or repentance or reconciliation. Yes, the son has headed home, a decision that we must not diminish even if it flows from mere desperation rather than sincere repentance. But the father seizes the initiative at the first sign of return. He acts and acts and acts and acts, his actions unmatched, unreciprocated, in one great gush of grace.
How might we apply this passage in our attempts to internalize the parable?
1) The son senses the father while he is still in the far country and the father sees the son while he is still far away.
This parable anticipates the insight of Paul that Christ died for us “while we were still sinners,” still far away
(Romans 5.8).
2) Every action of the father conveys grace, every movement expresses mercy. Even before his words of welcome
he speaks in the sign-language of forgiveness. This parable models for us not only a life that verbalizes mercy,
but one that acts out mercy, breathes mercy.
3) Although we were created to “search for God and perhaps grope after him and find him” (Acts 17.27), God’s grace
takes the initiative over our groping. This is the parable that proclaims God’s grace not as a begrudging
reaction to our repentance and confession of sins, but as the constant flow of compassion and forgiveness into
which we step when we turn to God.
15.21
And the son said to him, Father,
I sinned against heaven and before you,
no longer am I worthy to be called your son.
εἶπεν δὲ ὁ υἱὸς αὐτῷ, Πάτερ,
ἥμαρτον εἰς τὸν οὐρανὸν καὶ ἐνώπιόν σου,
οὐκέτι εἰμὶ ἄξιος κληθῆναι υἱός σου.
These words should sound very familiar to us. They are identical to the words the younger son rehearsed in the far country. We read them in verses 18-19. What do we make of the fact that he speaks the same words? Weren't those the sentiments of separation, expressing the attitudes of alienation, the language of the far country? Hasn't everything changed? Isn't he home now? Hasn't the father already embraced him, covered him with kisses, showered him with unexpected and undeserved compassion? Yes, but these words are all the more appropriate. In fact, even though they are the same words, they have a very different significance. Even if, as some say, the son's well-planned speech was insincere, mere remorse at the best and manipulation at the worst, not true repentance, the context and therefore the meaning of the speech has changed. Now, in the face of forgiveness, with the father's mercy unmasked, the words are a true confession of sinful behavior, unworthy of his son-like relationship to his father. However the words were planned, they have poured out as repentance.
Yes, the son who had treated his father in an unfatherly manner now calls him, Father. Yes, his father's compassion has highlighted his sin, against God and in the sight of his father. And yes, his father's unmerited favor spotlights his violation of his relationship with his father as his true sin. But remember, the son hard thought all these thoughts and said all these words while he was still in the far country, still in the pigpen, still in sin. Although his position and his pasture have changed, the son's sense of his relationship has never wavered. Although his actions did not always honor that relationship, the son was always aware of it.
Another thing to notice in verse 21 is that the son does not finish his well-rehearsed speech. He had planned to add, "Make me as one of your hired hands." Why are those words omitted here? There are two possible explanations, which are not necessarily mutually exclusive. First, the father may have interrupted his son's speech. Before the son was able to suggest the only solution his humble repentance could imagine (or the more cynical explanation, the only solution his manipulative, unrepentant heart could conceive of), the father cut him off. Enough of this! I'm calling the shots here. My compassion will determine my conduct, not your repentance or your manipulation. Second, the son may have realized that in the face of his father's forgiveness, in the context of his overwhelming compassion, the rest of his speech was unnecessary, non-sensical. The father's actions had already made it clear that he viewed and planned to relate to the prodigal as the son he was, not as the hired hand he was willing to be. Enough said! His compassion will determine my conduct. I won't say anything to contradict his compassion.
What do we learn from the son's rehearsal of his planned speech?
1) This is the parable that teaches us that repentance is not what we do to earn or elicit God's grace but what we do in
response to God's overwhelming and amazing grace.
2) This is the parable that reminds us that sin may mar but it does not utterly annihilate our relationship with God, a
relationship of which God and we remain aware no matter our circumstances.
3) This is the parable that teaches us to view our selves and our relationships in the light of God's evaluations not our
own, to accommodate our human solutions to our sinful situations to God's divine plan.
15.22
And the father said to his slaves,
Quick, bring the best robe and dress him,
and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet.
εἶπεν δὲ ὁ πατὴρ πρὸς τοὺς δούλους αὐτοῦ,
Ταχὺ ἐξενέγκατε στολὴν τὴν πρώτην καὶ ἐνδύσατε αὐτόν,
καὶ δότε δακτύλιον εἰς τὴν χεῖρα αὐτοῦ καὶ ὑποδήματα εἰς τοὺς πόδας,
When the father speaks, it is not to his son but to his servants. Why doesn't he respond verbally to his son's speech about sin and sonship? Actions have already spoken louder than words--running, embracing, kissing. And actions--"quick" actions, actions which illustrate the father's compassion and eliminate any further need for the son's solution--will continue to speak louder than words--bring, dressing, slaughtering. By the way these servants are household slaves, close at hand to do the master's bidding. They are not the hired hands the younger son had once thought of working among.
The first gift to be brought to the returned son is a robe. The Greek word is the source of our word "stole," a long stately robe worn in Jesus' day by priests and scribes and anyone wealthy or honored. English translations call it the "best" robe, suggesting that this is the robe of status. The son is no slave, no servant, not even a hired hand; he is a person of status, despite his recent renegade lifestyle, he is the son. This idea of status is borne out by the Greek phrase, "first" robe. But there is another way to translate the Greek word "first." It can also mean "former." In that case, the word denotes not only status but reinstatement. The robe confers on the prodigal son a reinstatement of his original place within the family. Either way, the robe is not to be hung on the wall as a trophy or symbol, it is to be worn immediately. No further meritorious action by the son is needed.
The second gift is a ring for his finger. This ring was no simple piece of jewelry, no mere adornment of his body. It is the symbol of his authority. Signet rings were worn by rulers and leaders. They usually bore the emblem of the ruler--either a carving of their likeness or their initials or some other symbol of their person. They were used by impressing them into hot wax to confirm a command or seal a significant communication. So the father is restoring not only the son's status (the robe) but his authority to make wise and authoritative decisions (the ring) within the family structure, all without proving his worthiness to rule.
The third gift is sandals for his feet. Whatever footwear the son wore as he began his journey must by now be gone or in a state of ruin. There would be a practical need for a good pair of sandals. But sandals stood for much more. Slaves went barefoot as one symbol of their servitude, their loss of freedom. So a gift of sandals was a conferral of freedom, a recognition of the son's full rights as a free heir of the father, in contrast to the very slaves who were bearing these gifts. This gift completes the full restoration of the son's sonship--his rank, his rule, his rights, his status, his authority, his freedom.
A final word about these gifts. The father gives the son gifts the son has not asked for. All he could imagine were bread and a job as a hired hand. What he receives are a lofty rank, and responsible rule, and freedom. The father gives gifts the son assumes he does not deserve, and in fact he does not.
What insights into the father's response to the return emerge from this verse?
1) This parable teaches us that when it comes to compassion, in relation to reconciliation, actions often speak louder,
and better, than words.
2) This parable reminds us that in salvation God's grace bestows on us a reinstatement of our status as heirs, of our
significant role in the reign of God's kingdom, and of our freedom from law, sin, and death, our freedom to freely
serve.
3) This parable reveals that God's response to our return is more than forgiveness, as wonderful as that is; God
responds with a full restitution of our intended rank, responsibility, and rights.
4) This parable confirms the teaching of Jesus that God gives us what we don't even realize we need, other than we
want, more than we need, better than we desire.
15.23-24
And bring the calf, the grain-fed one, slaughter it,
and let's eat and celebrate,
because this my son was dead and came back to life,
he was lost and was found.
And they began to celebrate.
καὶ φέρετε τὸν μόσχον τὸν σιτευτόν, θύσατε,
καὶ φαγόντες εὐφρανθῶμεν,
ὅτι οὗτος ὁ υἱός μου νεκρὸς ἦν καὶ ἀνέζησεν,
ἦν ἀπολωλὼς καὶ εὑρέθη.
καὶ ἤρξαντο εὐφραίνεσθαι.
The next order to the household slaves is to slaughter the calf that was being saved for a special occasion. This one that had not been left to graze on the dry scrub brush of Palestine. It had been fed by hand with the riches grains and most nutritious grasses so that its meat would be tender and tasty. Only the best gifts and now only the best dish. All this comes at a price of course, a slaughter, a death, but more on that when we discuss the theological significance of the parable.
What about the statement that the son has been dead and has now come back to life? Is that a hyperbole? And exaggerated, dramatic way to describe the younger son's long absence from the family circle? Perhaps. But it may represent the fact that any son who had acted so insultingly toward his father would have been considered legally dead, even though he was physically alive. The actions of the father that restored the status of sonship would have reversed that legal "death."
And what about the notion that the son has been lost. This metaphor of alienation and separation clearly ties the parable of the sons back to the parables of the sheep and coin, two objects that were literally lost.
The last order in response to the return of the son is the command to eat and celebrate. These two actions are grammatically inseparable because they were culturally inseparable. Eating was by nature celebratory, and celebrations always involved eating. And this was at least one command of the father's that was obeyed--"and they began to celebrate"--or was it?
What do we learn from this passage in which we reach the climax of the saga of the younger son?
1) This parable sheds light on a terrifying fact: that sin, separation from God, a broken relationship with God creates a
kind of spiritual death in the midst of our physical existence that can only overcome by a death that brings life.
2) This parable should convince us that the God of salvation is the God of celebration, of finding, of feasting. The joy
of the shepherd and of the woman is shared by the father and it is the joy of God.