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The Prodigal Son – how grace trumped mercy

The Prodigal Son – how grace trumped mercy
First published in Open Bok, The Sight Magazine, 28 Nov 2025

The familiar Parable of the Prodigal Son is riddled with cultural questions about what did not happen. It epitomises the difference between earthly retribution and “as it is in heaven”.

Luke Chapter 15 starts by setting the scene with the cultural context: The Pharisees and the scribes murmured, saying, “This man receives sinners and eats with them”.

The law of Moses stipulates that the firstborn inherits a “double share” (Deuteronomy 21:17).

The father could have declined the disgraceful request and observed the Jewish wisdom to “wait until the last moment of your life, when you are breathing your last, and then divide your property among your heirs” as contained in the Jewish Book of Sirach (33:23). But he “waived” what was culturally right and “divided his property between them”, granting a third to his younger son.

Because the son had effectively treated his father as dead, the brother wrote off “this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes”.

If the brother knew about the son’s exploits, he probably heard murmurs that the son had fallen into desperate times, resorted to feeding “unclean” pigs (Leviticus 11:7) for a Gentile, and worked on the Sabbath (Exodus 20:8-11). Others may have arranged to eliminate this sin-soaked son before he further disgraced the family’s reputation.

When the son “came to his senses”, he rehearsed a three-part speech: “I have sinned against Heaven and against you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.”

When the father saw him “still a long way off”, he was “filled with compassion” rather than wrath.

King David offers a lofty explanation for the father’s heart: “You have searched me, Lord, and you know me…you perceive my thoughts from afar…Before a word is on my tongue, you, Lord, know it completely…and you lay your hand upon me.” (Psalm 139:1-6).

Instead of shunning the son, waiting for the grovel or expecting the reverent hand-kissing, the opposite happens. It is the father who publicly disgraced himself by running out to the sinner – to give grace! It is the father who hastened to embrace and kiss his son. It is the father who gestured forgiveness before a word was spoken.

When the son delivers his three-part speech, the father refuses to hear part three about treatment as a servant. Again, the father waived that third of what was culturally right.

Again, the opposite happens. The father asks the servants not only to “bring the best robe” but to “put it on him”, as if to cover the scars of his sins. For the murmuring Pharisees and Scribes, this imagery would have evoked the angel replacing Joshua’s filthy clothes with fine garments (Zechariah 3:4), especially as royal robes were traditionally preserved for a noble prince (Esther 6:8-9).

By putting a ring on his son’s finger, the father is immediately and publicly restoring the son’s status in the family. The signet ring was traditionally engraved with a family crest for a wax seal, akin to a credit card! For the murmurers, this would have evoked the ceremony when Pharaoh promoted Joseph with a signet ring (Genesis 41:42).

As servants traditionally walked barefoot, the sandals reinforced the father’s rejection of part three.

At best, the son was hoping for mercy after sequential stages to redeem himself. Instead, he was greeted with immediate grace.

Instead of the father becoming angry and turning his back, it is the brother who “refused to go in”.

The brother cannot understand the hasty celebration, after all the shame and disgrace that the son has caused. Surely, the father has skipped a few stages – a process akin to our Western justice system.

Our justice system may entail a protracted process of charges (breaches of Mosaic law), prosecution, trial, plea bargaining, evidence, witnesses, cross-examination, victim impact statements, sentencing, proportional retribution, compensation of victims, public shaming and mandatory rehabilitation.

Similarly, Baptist minister Dr Gary Chapman co-authored The 5 Apology Languages which maps out the popular and progressive stages of regret, responsibility, restitution, repentance then forgiveness.

Perhaps the brother expected more grovelling and healing before he was ready for clemency.

But the father sprinted straight to forgiveness.

Given that the brother had already received his ‘double share’ of inheritance prematurely, perhaps he was ‘eyeing off’ the full share of his father’s remaining property. The regrafting of the son may jeopardise this.

Perhaps this is why the father explicitly placates him: “everything I have is yours.”

Is it a coincidence that the parable ends by circling back to the opening murmurs?

Indeed, the father embraced his son to erase the shame and so he “receives sinners”.

The father hosts a celebratory homecoming dinner for this ‘sinner’ and so he “eats with them” too.

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Do we need sarcasm emojis to grasp the parable of the shrewd manager?

Do we need sarcasm emojis to grasp the parable of the shrewd manager?

First published in Sught Magazine, 10 October 2025
https://sightmagazine.com.au/open-book/open-book-do-we-need-sarcasm-emojis-to-grasp-the-parable-of-the-shrewd-manager/

Read Luke 16:1-15 (NIV)

The ‘paradoxical’ Parable of the Shrewd Manager has always confounded and divided Christians. Why would the master “commend the dishonest manager”? How are “people of this world” shrewder than “people of the light”? Why would Jesus encourage us to “use worldly wealth to gain friends” so we are “welcomed into eternal dwellings”?

A cultural torch may help crack open this nut: the Levant languages are renowned for their colourful lexicon and hyperbole. I know that from my Lebanese upbringing, when my relatives sought to sharpen their point. If I visited my aunt after a long absence, she responded sarcastically: “So you remembered where we live!”

When our angry Lord spoke “out of a storm” to Job and his friends, He sarcastically quizzed them about his mysterious creation: “Surely you know, for you were already born! You have lived so many years!” (Job 38:21).

Jesus was a master of rich language: “If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away” (Matthew 5:29).

When His opponents plotted to stone him for blasphemy, He deployed sarcasm: “I have shown you many good works from the Father. For which of these do you stone me?” (John 10:32).

But there were no sarcasm emojis and exclamation marks 2000 years ago when Luke recorded this parable!

Within this cultural context, a re-reading of the shrewd manager parable does not contradict the surrounding parables about the prodigal son and Lazarus in the “bosom of Abraham“. Both of these parables juxtapose the ‘way of the world’ (rich man; selfish son) with the way of the ‘light’ (Lazarus; repentant son).

Surely, Jesus was sarcastic when He suggested that using worldly wealth to gain friends would lead to eternal dwellings. There is only one eternal dwelling: “in my Father’s house” (John 14:2). Moreover, Jesus tells us “do not store up for yourselves treasures on Earth” (Matthew 5:19).

At the end of His parable, Jesus pivots His focus to the sneering Pharisees: “You are the ones who justify yourselves in the eyes of others, but God knows your hearts”. He knew that they “loved money” and became “people of this world” when they should have been “people of the light”.

Jesus concludes: “no-one can serve two masters”. The shrewd manager knew exactly how to navigate the way of the world so that “people would welcome me in their houses”. Like the shrewd manager, the Pharisees knew the rule book when “dealing with their own kind”.

After the sarcasm has landed on the sneering Pharisees, Jesus leaves us with a serious challenge: do we who ostensibly serve the true master know the rule book of ‘our own kind’ to shrewdly navigate our way to eternal life?

The shrewd manager knew the way to the heart of the master he serves. He hastily concocted a win-win-win situation for “people of this world”. The debtors received an instant discount and closure. The master would be hailed a hero for his unwitting charity. The manager set up a contingency plan to be welcomed among these debtors “when I lose my job here”.

In the honour-shame culture of this world, the manager spared himself from the public shame of begging, and bestowed public honour on his master.

As ‘people of the light’, how well do we know the way to the heart of the master we serve?

What is unspoken by Jesus in this short parable may have been culturally odd to his Levant audience.

The master declares, “you cannot be manager any longer”, but does not ask the manager to balance the books first.

The master does not reveal who informed him of the mismanagement.

The master does not send the manager to prison or slavery for “wasting his possessions”.

The manager, meanwhile, does not defend himself, demand witnesses or plead by hand-kissing.

Unlike the prodigal son, he does not offer himself as a “hired servant” (Luke 15:19).

The wasteful manager does not know what each debtor owes, so he asks them.

He does not call for an urgent group meeting with debtors, perhaps because ‘people of this world’ (unlike people of the light) protect themselves by scheming privately, behind closed doors.

He does not evoke a long (family) history and loyalty of working for the master.

The debtors do not know that the manager has already been fired.

The manager’s eye was set on his earthly prize: retaining ‘my job.’

As people of the light, we have a different set of rules to reach the eternal dwelling place in the heavenly kingdom.

When we understand the sarcastic speech and the cultural context, this parable is not paradoxical. It is consistent with all that Jesus teaches: we are people in this world, but not of this world (John 17:16-18).