Last Sunday at church, our pastor Leon included in his sermon, reference to one of the most famous parables of Jesus, the story of the prodigal son. It is one of those stories that no matter how many times you read it, it always seems to contain something new. Leon spoke about how scandalous it was for a respected man to run, it would have meant him lifting his robes to avoid tripping over them.
As we were meeting with our house group during the week, discussing and sharing our thoughts on Leon’s message, I was reminded of a piece I wrote a few years ago on this story, having spent some time looking into the cultural background. I shared with our group some bits that I could remember, but I have been thinking about the story the last couple of nights as I have been drifting off to sleep, so I have spent time revisiting my journal and have added some fresh thoughts which I want to share.
In first century Middle Eastern culture, a respectable man would never, ever run! If he were to run, he would have to hitch up his robes, so as not to trip. If he did this it would result in him showing his bare legs. In the culture at that time, it was humiliating and shameful for a man to show his legs.
If it was shameful for a man to run in that culture, why did the father run when his son returned home? What possible motivation did the father have to publicly humiliate himself in this way?
To understand the reasons, we need to understand a Jewish custom from this time. If a Jewish son lost his inheritance amongst gentiles and then returned home, the local community would perform a ceremony called the “Kezazah”.They would break a large pot in front of him and yell “You are now cut off from your people!” He would be totally rejected by the whole community.
So coming back to the question of why the father ran, it seems obvious that he wanted to get to his son before he enters the village. He shames himself, in an effort to get to his son before the local community can get to him, to stop his son experiencing the shame and humiliation of their taunting and total rejection. The villagers would have followed the running father, they would have witnessed the meeting of father and son, they would have seen and heard the father’s forgiveness and him putting his ring on his son’s finger. After this emotional reuniting of the prodigal son and his father, it would have been clear to all that there wasn’t going to be a “Kezazah” ceremony today, there would be no rejecting this son, despite all that he had done. The son had repented and returned to the father. The father had taken the full shame that should have fallen upon his son and had clearly demonstrated to the whole community that this was his son and that he was welcome to come home.
Thinking back to earlier in the story, when the son had spent all his inheritance and had reached rock bottom, taking probably the most degrading job a good Jewish boy could ever do, looking after a herd of pigs. He eventually comes to his senses and thinks that if only he can go home and beg his father to allow him to be a servant, he’d be in a much better position than he was. I was reminded of Psalm 84:10 “Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere; I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked.” It just seems like it was written by the prodigal son, as he most definitely would prefer to be a servant rather than continue the life he was leading.
The son was prepared to risk everything. He would have been aware of his probable fate if the villagers saw him first, but he was willing to risk total rejection by them, because no matter how small a chance it was, there was still a chance that he could get to see his father first, and have an opportunity to seek forgiveness from his father and acceptance as a servant.
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