The parable of the Lost Sheep ends with: “I tell you, in just the same way there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who have no need of repentance.”  The parable of the Lost Coin ends with: “In just the same way, I tell you, there will be rejoicing among the angels of God over one sinner who repents.” On one hand, that presents an absurd image. The idea of a sheep repenting is only slightly less absurd than the idea of a coin repenting.

Richard Jensen (Preaching Luke’s Gospel, p.167) suggests “The only possible action in this story that could constitute repentance is the finding of the lost. Repentance, therefore, may be defined as our acceptance of being found. Jensen goes on to write, “Repentance is our acceptance of the reality that God has found us in Jesus Christ. This means, of course, that we acknowledge our own “lostness.” [p. 169].  He points this out specifically in the case of the prodigal son: “The father simply gives him back his sonship as an act of grace. The son accepts. He repents: he accepts being found!” [p. 175]

The story would be complete as it stands with the return of the prodigal son and the father’s open-armed acceptance. But another story interlocks with this one. The elder son’s anger and self-righteousness make him resentful; not even the return of his brother will make him share the family celebration. The tragedy here is that while the older son has never left home, never disobeyed, and has “slaved” faithfully – he has also never felt rewarded and thus resents the father’s joy at his brother’s return. In contrast to joy, the older son feels anger or rage which is freely expressed in every gesture (refusal to enter the house) and word (his responses to his father). The anger he feels for his father is transferred to his brother. The older son has not only failed to recognize his privileged position with his father, but he is also blind to the fact that his father offers him the same constant care and concern – the father comes out to him also, seeking what is being lost.

Calamity finally brings him to his senses and the story pivots in v.17. He concocts a plan that has him returning to his home and engaging as a hired servant. He carefully rehearses his speech: “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers.”  He expects to be treated with cold reserve and suspicion. But his father still loves him. 

Tashjian notes “As Westerners we cannot really understand what the father has done unless we put ourselves in the context of Eastern culture and way of thinking. The son had dishonored his father and the village by taking everything and leaving. When he returns in tattered clothes, bare-footed and semi-starved, he would have to get to the family residence by walking through the narrow streets of the village and facing the raised eye-brows, the cold stares, the disgusted looks of the town people. So when the son is still far off, before he has entered the outskirts of the village, the father sees him and decides immediately what he must do. In compassion for his son and to spare him the pain of walking through the gauntlet of the town alone, he runs to him, falls on his neck, and kisses him.”

The parable, the longest in the Gospels, consists of three main parts: (1) the departure of the younger son to a distant land where he squanders his inheritance (vv.11-19), (2) the homecoming of the son and welcome by his father (vv.20-24), and (3) the episode between the father and the older son who stayed at home (vv.25-32).  How this parable differs is that what is lost is a human person – one who has existing human relationships with his father and his brother.  The younger son’s metanioa is not simply a change of his mind in absence of these relationships. Repentance necessarily involves those relationships. 

Where is the focus of the story? Is it the younger of the two sons? Afterall the parable is known as the prodigal son (by the way “prodigal” means wasteful.) Perhaps the focus should be on the father? Or perhaps it is a family story given the opening verse of the parable is: “A man had two sons.” (v.11). Again, Joel Green [578] offers valuable insight:

“Whose parable is it? The traditional answer, that it concerns a father with two sons, has much to commend it. Most importantly, the parable begins by naming ‘a man (who had two sons),’ and goes on to underscore his conciliatory responses to the insulting behavior of both sons. Three telling observations suggest that this is not the case, however. First, the narrative has two primary segments, each allowing the same story to be recounted—fully by Jesus (vv 11–24), then in summary fashion by ‘one of the slaves’ (vv 26–27). In the first, the emphasis falls on the younger son’s ‘loss’ and his father’s celebrative response to his return, while in the latter the emphasis falls on the younger son’s loss and his brother’s indignant reaction to his return.

The parable of the “Prodigal Son” does not stand alone. It is framed by the opening verses of the chapter and the parables which come before. One must always keep in mind that the three parables (Lost Sheep, Lost Coin, and the Prodigal Son) are told in response to the complaint that Jesus welcomes and eats with “tax collectors and sinners.” The former being traitors to their religious family and the latter already standing condemned by the Laws of the family. They are people “outside the camp” – they are lost.

In the first parable when the lost sheep is found the shepherd invites others to “Rejoice with me.” (Lk 15:6). Jesus notes that there is “joy in heaven” (v.7) because – not that one was found – but that the lost one repented. In the second parable the woman invites others to rejoice with her because she has found the lost coin. Again, Jesus notes “there will be rejoicing among the angels of God over one sinner who repents.” (v.10) Again the focus is on repentance.

What is different about the third parable is that the dynamic is no longer property, but family.