The Shadow
The Return of the Prodigal Son (1773), by Pompeo Batoni
The story of the Prodigal Son, found in Luke 15:11-32, takes place in three acts. In Act 1, the Younger Brother receives his inheritance, devolves into a life of licentiousness and, out of desperation, returns home. Act 2 shifts focus to the Older Brother, who had been conscientious, responsible and upstanding. He witnesses his wanton Younger Brother returning home and beset with envy, objects to the Younger Brother’s feast. Act 3 then turns to the Father, who addresses both sons. The Father embraces the Younger Brother, heralding a celebration feast. To the Older Brother, the Father reminds him that all the Father’s possessions belong to him also; that it is right to celebrate the Younger Brother’s return, as he was dead to sin, but now is alive again. The story ends with the celebratory feast, with both brothers seated at the table with the Father.
I would like to turn your attention to Act 2 and the Older Brother, who objected to the Younger Brother’s return: “Look, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command, yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him!” (Luke 15:29-30). Is the Older Brother wrong? Is his objection incorrect? Well, from his perspective, no. From the Older Brother’s perspective, he correctly protests this undeserved treatment for the Younger Brother. What the Older Brother sees is a Younger Brother who fell victim to immoral extravagance, contrasted with a saccharine Father who is now falling victim to another form of extravagance: an extravagance of sentimentality. Where is the justice? Where is the fairness? Shouldn’t love be tempered with justice? One can almost hear the Older Brother saying, “What incentive would anyone have to live responsibly if, after debauchery, there was always a soft fluffy pillow to cushion the fall?”
Let’s delve into the Older Brother’s objection, which, on the surface, does not seem unreasonable. To begin, no one needed to punish the Younger Brother; he had done that to himself. The story reiterates viscerally the Biblical message that sin is a form of death. Sin beckons, then seduces and finally entraps us into a form of Hell, where the Younger Brother found himself. Consider how low the Younger Brother had descended. In Judaism, pigs are considered to be an unclean animal, yet the Younger Brother was so desperate, he was even willing to eat with the pigs. Sin had reduced the Younger Brother into almost a subhuman creature; desperate, starving and alone. To know that someone has adopted a life of sin is to know that they suffer. Christ is the model for how we should respond to such persons: with compassion and fellowship. Why couldn’t the Older Brother feel compassion for his brother? What prevented him, initially, from entering his Father’s feast?
The story indicates that the Older Brother was envious of the Younger Brother, which resulted in resentment. The Older Brother felt jealous. After all, he had followed all the rules and been obedient, while his Younger Brother had rejected all conventionality. Why should the Younger Brother get to have all the “fun,” while the Older Brother had to do all the “work”? Ironically, in contrast to the Older Brother’s initial reaction, a life of sin is no fun, as the story clearly shows. The Younger Brother would have gladly traded places with the Older Brother. So, of what is the Older Brother truly envious? Imagine this conversation between the Father and the Older Brother:
Father: Why are you jealous of your Younger Brother?
Older Brother: Because I had to do all the work, but he didn’t.
Father: Your Younger Brother descended into a subhuman existence. He would gladly trade places with you. Of what are you jealous?
Older Brother: He gets to have a feast!
Father: After starving because no one would even feed him pig slop. Of what are you jealous?
Older Brother: Because he got to do things that I can’t, or would never permit myself!
Father: So, there’s a part of you tempted to live as he did, yet you judge him?
The temptation towards sin exists within all of us, and this is our shadow. These temptations are not easy to admit. It can be difficult to peer into one’s own heart and see the shadow. As followers of Christ, it is important to remind ourselves of our own propensity towards sin; of the temptations we all face. Otherwise, we ourselves become the Pharisee. We can feel no compassion for the sinner because, strangely, but truly, the sinner offers a mirror to our own temptations. We learn about ourselves by what we judge in others. Pointing the finger at someone else obscures the mirror before our own heart. Judgment without compassion is a defense against having to face our shadow.
Both brothers needed the Father’s love. The Younger Brother required it to be redeemed. The Older Brother needed it, too, because the Father loves those parts of us that we don’t even want to see. The Father knows our shadow, the temptations we feel, what we don’t like to see in ourselves, and He offers grace to those parts, too. We don’t have to judge others as a means to escape our own internal condemnation; we can feel compassion both for the sinner, and the sinner within us. Imagine the story of the Prodigal Son occurring in one’s own mind. In one portion of our mind is the temptation to sin, while in another is the propensity to condemn others as a means to escape this temptation. Loving both portions is The Father, the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, who, knowing us from the inside-out, offers grace and a place at His table.
In Christ,
Mort Taylor