You probably already know the story of the prodigal son, one of Jesus Christ’s most famous parables. But just in case, here’s a quick synopsis:
There was a man with two sons. The younger one asked the father to give him his share of the family estate. As soon as the father gave it to him, the kid skipped town and successfully blew through his inheritance with “loose living.” Sounds like a lot of people I know.
Anyway, after spending his entire fortune, the kid decides to go home and beg his father to take him back. So he goes home and finds his dad and says, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.”
That, right there, sounds to me like the kid is overdramatizing just for effect—I mean, it’s more than obvious that he’s full of crap—but let’s move on for now.
Instead of reprimanding the kid, the father hugs him and throws a big party to celebrate his return.
Meanwhile, the other son, who’s been out working his ass off in his father’s fields this whole time, comes home to find the party in full swing.
Understandably, at least in my opinion, he’s a little ticked off and says to his father, “For so many years I have been serving you and I have never neglected a command of yours; and yet you have never given me a young goat, so that I might celebrate with my friends; but when this son of yours came, who has devoured your wealth with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him.”
The father replies, “Son, you have always been with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, for this brother of yours was dead and has begun to live, and was lost and has been found.”
Okay. I’ve been hearing this story since I was a small child, and every time I’ve ever heard it, my response has always been exactly the same: What the hell?
If you ask me, it’s a crock. The good son, the loyal one, the one who has worked hard and obeyed his father the whole time, gets punished, while the little ass who wasted all his money on booze and whores gets rewarded. It’s so unfair, it’s crazy.
And no matter how many times people try to make me see that the story is about forgiveness, that you should forgive someone for screwing up and give them another chance, I say bullshit.
I mean, look at it realistically. Where is the money for the prodigal son’s party (and the renewed inheritance we have to assume he’s going to get) coming from? Obviously, the good son is getting shafted. It’s crap.
Maybe I’ve always felt like the good son—ignored and invisible, except when somebody wants someone else to do the grunt work. So I appreciate the good son’s anger. If I were him, I would probably beat the prodigal son to death with a stick (but then we’d get into a whole big Cain-and-Abel situation, which would just be a hassle).
My point is that I have a lot of trouble believing in a God who thinks it’s acceptable—no, more than that—desirable to reward bad behavior and punish good people. If the prodigal son was “dead,” then maybe he should have stayed dead, in my opinion.
I’m just saying. If you screw up—and I don’t mean accidentally—I mean, if you screw up and you KNOW you’re screwing up, and you’re doing it on purpose, then you don’t deserve a second chance. I’ve never received a second chance (and I’ve never done anything remotely as bad as what the prodigal son did). So if I don’t get a second chance, the prodigal son sure as hell doesn’t deserve one.
Wow. I better stop thinking about this before I blow a blood vessel. I may have a few deep-seated issues with parental authority and sibling rivalry, you think?
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