The Prodigal Son: El Salvador's Poor

Lectionary reflections for Lent 4 (C)

by Richard A. Bower

Readings for Lent 4, Year C, Mar. 21, 2004

Joshua 5:9-12

2 Corinthians 5:17-21

Luke 15:11-32

The story of the Prodigal Son is most often seen in personal, psychological ways, as a story of family pathos. A self-centered child runs away from home, sows his oats, and later returns willing to be accepted on any terms. His brother is outraged, and his father is overcome with joy. How many of our personal stories are reflected in these three characters of the story? Probably, there are many indeed.

But the story of the father and his two sons begins with the words, “Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to hear [Jesus]. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling. . .” That is, the story begins with the familiar clash between the rigidly orthodox, exclusive religious leaders and Jesus' practice of gathering around him all sorts of non-kosher folks.

Rather than being a story of a personal journey, it is a tale of social justice. . . The religious leaders wanted an ordered society where every person knew his or her place, and where justice was seen as making sure everyone followed the rules. The rules, as usual, were set by and for the rule-makers.

Rather than being a story of a personal journey, it is a tale of social justice. Whole sectors of contemporary society were being written off, marginalized and exploited in Jesus' time. The powerful set the rules, and the weak suffered the consequences. The religious leaders wanted an ordered society where every person knew his or her place, and where justice was seen as making sure everyone followed the rules. The rules, as usual, were set by and for the rule-makers. Many of the poorer classes in first century Palestinian society had neither the time nor money to follow the rules.

And so Jesus tells a story about a new kind of society, a society where justice rolls down like water. . .or like a grand celebration!

The young son of the family, an experimenter, a bit rebellious, feeling tight and constrained by the farm life of his family, wants to split, find out about life, and have an adventure or two. He asks ahead of time for his share of the family inheritance. As the younger son, his allotment is much smaller than his elder brother's, the first-born carrying the most responsibility to protect the family lineage and wealth. The older son is a person of privilege, inheritor of the major share of the family wealth, and bearer of the family's name and honor.

Asking for one's portion of the inheritance before the death of the father was a painful slap in the face. It was like wishing the father's death.

The son leaves on his adventures, the anxious father grieves, and the dutiful son goes joylessly about his work. So far the story weaves a well-known tapestry of family life.

Eventually, the younger son returns, having spent and hit bottom. But he returns not knowing how or if he will be received. “Maybe I will be able to work as one of my father's indentured servants. At least I could be near the family I abandoned.”

The story says that the father sees his son while the son is still far away. The father had been waiting day-by-day, knowing deep within himself that the son would come to no good, and would need to be restored. And so the father had waited the sorrowful, painful wait of love.

The response to the young son's return was joy and celebration. The father recognizes the gift:   his son, who was dead, has come back to life. Life is more important than punishment, and so the celebration is royal and extravagant, fit for a resurrection.

On the hillsides the older son – the real heir – sits fuming, watching the festivities back home with disgust and not a little anger. He had followed all the rules and deserves praise, or at least some recognition. Instead, his father stops in the midst of his life and celebrates the son who has caused him such sorrow. The father knows life when he sees it, and rejoices over it with abandon.

Justice: celebrating the return of what was lost, rejoicing at the life that comes out of death. The rule-makers/followers could not make sense of this. It was unjust! Bad behavior should be punished, or at least made to pay. And so the joy that the waiting father has, and the new life that the young son discovers, brings the dutiful son only bitterness and anger.   For him the world is unfair.

This is exactly the point Jesus wants to make. Surrounded by “prodigal sons,” sinners, tax collectors, persons of dubious repute, the poor who could not measure up, Jesus (the waiting parent) welcomes them, celebrates with them, and calls them his sisters and brothers. Jesus prefers life to rule-keeping. He sees a new dream, a time when those who have been weak will be made strong, when those who have been lost will be found, when the lowly ones will be raised up, the hungry filled with good things, the forgotten remembered.

Justice is the option to seek and serve those who were lost. It is not to reward those who have always done their duty and who expect to be honored for doing so.

It is easy to see in the older son the religious leaders of Jesus' day. It is easy to see in the son the multitudes of marginalized poor, many of whom had given up hope and lived their lives in the ragged way they could. It is easy to see in the waiting father the God of grace who not only waits for us to come home, but also actively hounds us to return.

So often the church is like the elder son, jealous for its prerogatives, its purity, its need to determine the thoughts and behavior of its members, expecting obedience and conformity. So often the church is judgmental toward outsiders, uncomfortable with the prodigal questioners and experimenters.

So often the church is like the elder son, jealous for its prerogatives, its purity, its need to determine the thoughts and behavior of its members, expecting obedience and conformity. So often the church is judgmental toward outsiders, uncomfortable with the prodigal questioners and experimenters. Conformity to the expectations of the powerful, and unquestioning uniformity, is the desire. The church seldom rejoices over the welcome of the stranger, the person who is different.

Nor do the other powers, the new economic oligarchy, the new imperial rulers: none tolerate the questioners, the opposition, the cry of the voiceless to be heard.

This coming Sunday, March 21, 2004, the people of El Salvador will hold their presidential election. This time, for the first time, the opposition – the Left – has a chance to win the election. For the past 10 years, the FMLN – who were the guerrillas in the mountains during the long civil war, and are now a legal and open political party – have proven their ability to lead in national life with a vision of justice for the poor. The vast majority of alcaldes (local mayors) are and have been from the Frente (FMLN), and have earned trust. And now polls show that the FMLN candidate, Handel Shafic, has a 50% chance of winning.  

The older, rightist and ruling party is terrified of losing its generations of privilege. The U.S., which has publicly promised neutrality, has been supporting the Right, helping in the defaming of the Left. The U.S. and the Salvadoran Right have sowed fear.   Threats of a return to communism and of U.S. disfavor are made daily.  

The FMLN candidate, with a reputation of honesty and compassion, has proposed changes in the way this happens in El Salvador that will seek to lift up the lowly and fill the hungry with good things. But the powerful fear change, and sow fear in the minds and hearts of the poor.

The people of El Salvador need our prayers this week.   The weak and forgotten want to return home. The rich and haughty want to maintain their historic privilege. And many who dream of justice and equity want to prepare a table of celebration where no one will go hungry.

The people of El Salvador need our prayers this week.   The weak and forgotten want to return home. The rich and haughty want to maintain their historic privilege. And many who dream of justice and equity want to prepare a table of celebration where no one will go hungry.

The parallels between El Salvador and the United States in this moment are manifold. Political and economic power tries to hang on. Fear is sown among the people so that they will prefer security to freedom and justice. Corruption and greed mark the halls of privilege.

Jesus' story speaks against those who wanted to maintain the status quo, hang on to their privileged places, and find their worth by demeaning those below them.

Justice is the welcoming home of the prodigal, the finding a place and voice for the excluded, the shedding of privilege and power to make room for the weak.

Justice is the making of a choice, an option. Justice chooses the weakest and lifts them up, finds the broken and works for reconciliation. Justice always looks for life as its sign. Where sickness and death reign, justice is to be found where people live in solidarity and compassion, longing for God's dream to be realized.  

Justice waits and looks far off, and throws a great fiesta when the lost is found, when those who are dead are brought back to life.

The Very Rev. Richard A. Bower is executive director of Fundación Cristosal , a solidarity ministry with the Anglican/Episcopal Church in El Salvador. He is a board member of the Episcopal Church Publishing Company ( The Witness ), and is dean emeritus of St. Paul's Episcopal Cathedral in Syracuse, New York, Dick lives in Ludlow, Vermont, and may be reached by email at rabvt@together.net .