Or are we wasting our inheritance like the prodigal son? What was the prodigal son’s actual sin?
That question popped into my head as I heard the Gospel reading that I’ve heard countless times. The obvious answers — essentially, sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll — seemed unpersuasive this time. Is this really just a story saying that if you go and do the really common bad things that people tend to do, then God will still forgive you?
Well, yes! It’s definitely that. Jesus, in telling this parable, was showing the Pharisees and scribes that he hung around with sinners because he wants to forgive them and be reconciled with them.
But here’s something odd: The prodigal son says that he has sinned against God and against his father. Obviously, fornicating and getting drunk are sins against the Ten Commandments, and thus sins against God. But what sin has he committed against his father?
The sin of squandering. What an evocative word. His father had something good, and he gave it to his son as a gift so he could use it for some particular purpose. But, instead, he squandered it. That’s worth looking at because it also sheds light on the part of the story that troubles many people: the father’s attitude toward his other, obedient son.
So what’s so terrible about squandering an inheritance?
First, it’s clearly terrible for the son himself. He burns through his money and ends up humiliated and starving. It was a bad plan, and it bit him in the butt.
It was also bad for the father. He very likely wanted to help set his son up with a homestead of his own so his wealth would flourish and grow. A young man with a sizable inheritance could easily marry, likely have children of his own, and bring joy and delight to his father.
His sin was also bad for the community. By squandering his inheritance, he refused to enrich the land or make jobs for the next generation. I know how tediously modern that sounds — “His great sin was that he failed to engage in community development!” — but it’s true! Things haven’t changed that much. When you get something good, you’re not supposed to waste it. You’re supposed to use it to help yourself, show respect to the person who gave it to you, and help other people. That’s what good things are FOR.
But on every count, the prodigal son did the opposite.
Using our many gifts for good
When we are assessing our lives (a very good practice during Lent!), it may or may not be helpful to ask ourselves, “Am I sinning?” It will probably be fruitful, though, to look at what good things God has given us, and to ask ourselves what we are doing with it. Are we using that inheritance well? Or are we squandering it?
An obvious example of an inheritance is money. If we have it, are we spending it on dumb or bad stuff that hurts ourselves and other people? That’s squandering. But using it to help other people would be using it for its intended purpose.
There are less obvious examples. Gifts of time, energy and health are all things we can either squander or use well. Even our personalities can be an inheritance. If we have been given the gift of a quick wit and sharp sense of humor, what do we use that for? For being nasty to other people and humiliating them? That’s squandering it. For making people laugh and helping them take life lightly? That’s putting it to good use.
Or maybe we’re naturally confident and charming, and we find it easy to persuade and influence others. Some people use this gift to get their way, and finagle themselves into situations they haven’t really earned and can’t really manage. That’s squandering. But some people use the gift of charisma well, buoying up everyone around them, bringing out their best and leading them down good paths.
You get the idea. Whatever it is you have in life, whatever strengths you possess, whatever talents you can claim, whatever skills and abilities you have, these are your inheritance. You can accept God’s help to get yourself set up in a thriving life that makes him proud and benefits everyone. Or you can stuff whatever gifts you have in your pocket, run far away from your father’s land and squander it all. And you see where that second choice lands you. Sooner or later, you’ll be wishing you had it as good as a pig.
The elder brother’s sin
So what about the elder son? In the story, he didn’t run through his inheritance. He obeyed his father and did his work, and when his loser brother comes crawling back, he’s indignant at how thrilled their father is. The elder son comes across, at first, as innocent and justified.
But listen to how Jesus tells it. He says the father pleaded with his son, who is refusing to come into the house where the party is in full swing. The father doesn’t wave him away; he takes the time to try to get his older son to see the situation as he does. I get the impression this is not the first time they’ve had this conversation, where the father is dismayed at how little his son understands and is trying hard, once again, to change his heart.
There is more than one way to squander a gift. You can use it poorly. Or you can refuse to use it at all.
Living sheltered in his father’s household, doing what he is obligated to do, the older brother sees himself as a good son; yet when he sees his father rejoicing with delight, he won’t even come in the door. How much could he love his father if he can’t even feel some relief on his behalf? Notice he is even denying himself the chance to enjoy the party. The way the elder son uses his father’s inheritance, no one benefits.
Imagine if the father had been out for the day when the younger son came home. It’s not hard to imagine the older brother closing the door on him. It’s not hard to imagine the older brother growing up and having a son of his own, and refusing him any mercy if he does mess up.
It’s not hard to imagine the elder son eventually receiving his inheritance and squandering it just as surely as his younger brother did — not in dissipation, but in miserliness and hardness of heart, something which separates you from the father just as surely as booze and prostitutes, no matter how outwardly obedient you are. And that is, in fact, where the elder son puts himself: out of his father’s house, refusing to come in.
The choice is ours
The story demonstrates one thing very plainly: We all have a choice. Do we want to be in or out?
I have a lot of sympathy for the elder brother, and I have argued before that Jesus does, too. But there’s a reason the father stops to try to persuade him. He can see that his obedient son doesn’t know what obedience is for.
Because obedience, too, is a gift. Used well, it enriches you, pleases your father and helps everyone around you flourish. But it’s also possible to squander obedience, to use it poorly, so that it makes you smaller, angrier, darker, less generous — and yes, separate from your father who loves you. Obedience is not a final word; it’s a beginning. It’s meant to lead to something bigger.
I will give you one more example of what might be called an inheritance: suffering. Even suffering can be a gift if it’s used rightly. But it can most definitely be squandered. Some people, when they emerge from trials, come out bitter and self-righteous, refusing to acknowledge that anyone but them even understands what suffering means. This is how you squander suffering.
The alternative is to let suffering crack you open, like a grain of wheat, so that you will grow and bear fruit. And that is how to use it well.
Our Father will plead with us to come into his house, and see what it’s like when gifts are used well. But, ultimately, it’s up to us. Everybody gets an inheritance, one way or another. And everybody gets a choice on how to spend it.
