Originally published at now-defunct StandardBlogs in March
of 2014
I’m a repeat reader; if I like a novel, I’ll read it five
times. If I really like it, I’ll get
around to reading it 10 times. If it’s
among my favorite novels, I never stop re-reading it. One of the payoffs of repeat reading is
catching character or plot insights, or finally recognizing – on reading number
seven – a plot device. That happened to
me as I was repeat reading Stephen King’s “It.”
I finally noticed that one of the survivors of the fire at The Black
Spot in Derry, Maine (set by racists) was a young black cook named “Hallorann.” In fact, Hallorann was pretty much a hero in
that scene. Of course, as my brain had
missed the previous six readings,
Hallorann is a main character in “The Shining” and is also in the sequel
“Doctor Sleep.”
Repeat reading is common in religion; in the LDS church,
we’re urged to read and re-read the Scriptures, including “The Bible” and “The
Book of Mormon,” particularly the latter.
I’m sure that most other churches urge their members to read “The Bible”
more than once.
The reason for this post is that I was thinking about repeat
reading, wondering if a “lightbulb” moment could come to me as I was repeat
reading the LDS scriptures. In other
words, it was a test. I was to read
scriptures in the manner I am accustomed, sometimes focusing, often not, but
trying to keep focused.
I was in Luke, chapter 15, in the New Testament, reading The
Prodigal Son parable when the dim bulb brightened, and that was kind of
cool. The story is familiar and even
iconic. Dad has built a good farm. He has two sons; the elder works hard, the
younger takes his inheritance, goes off and blows his money in riotous living.
Destitute, now humble, he goes home and asks his father if
he can be a mere servant, so he can eat.
His dad embraces him, and they have a celebration, killing the “fatted
calf.” Meanwhile, the elder son, working
in the fields, hears of the celebration for the younger son. He’s angry and refuses to attend, reminding
his dad of his hard work and his brother’s sloth. His dad tells him that all he has is still
his, but that they should rejoice that the son, once lost, has returned.
I’ve read this parable probably a 100-plus times, lots of
Sunday Schools, Institutes and seminary lessons, and the principles of
“sorrow,” “regret,” “contriteness,” “humility,” “forgiveness,” “love,”
“reclamation,” “joy,” “happiness” have all registered. Until a few days ago, though, I had never
thought much of the elder son. He seemed
to have some justifiable outrage but was pacified by the dad in the end.
But does the elder son represent a sinner, also? Was Christ using the mechanically faithful
son to illustrate someone who does good for the wrong reasons, elevating
himself in order to put down others, losing humility in the process. I’m no expert in theology, so I went to, of
course, books, to see if my thoughts had any weight.
Because I love old pre-Correlation LDS texts, I grabbed the
1938, approved by LDS President Heber J Grant, “The New Testament Speaks,” a
680-page LDS Sunday School guide, overseen by John A. Widstoe, LDS Commissioner
of Education. I bought this tome at Deseret Industries. On page 379, analyzing
the parable, it reads:
“Then there was also the son who was lost even though his
father saw his face every day. He was the selfish, loveless one, with his
contempt for those who had strayed away. Although he never left home, he was
far away from his father in spirit. He had no love for his father in his heart,
or he would have been glad to see his father rejoice. His years of labor had
been done in a hard, mechanical way, with the thought that some day all would
belong to him. St. Augustine said that the stay-at-home son was looking toward
getting something rather than giving.”
The author prefers the title of “The Two Lost Sons” to “The
Prodigal Son.” That was a harsher assessment that I had for the elder son, but
it got me wondering if the eldest son’s role in the parable was representative
of a faction in Christ’s era. Was Christ reproving someone or something? So, I
went to an older, but still popular and contemporary LDS text, James E.
Talmage’s “Jesus The Christ,” looking for an answer.
Talmage’s assessment of the elder son is also pointed. He
writes: “There is significance in the elder son’s designation of the penitent
as ‘this thy son,’ rather than ‘my brother.’ The elder son, deafened by selfish
anger, refused to hear aright the affectionate assurance; ‘Son, thou art ever
with me, and all that I have is thine,’ and with heart hardened by unbrotherly
resentment he stood unmoved by the emotional and loving outburst, ‘this thy
brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.’”
And Talmage draws a parallel to the eldest son’s
self-righteous anger: He writes: “Pharisees and scribes, to whom this
masterpiece of illustrative incident was delivered, must have taken to
themselves its personal application. They were typified by the elder son, laboriously
attentive to routine, methodically plodding by rule and rote in the
multifarious labors of the field, without interest except that of self, and all
unwilling to welcome a repentant publican or a returned sinner. From all such
they were estranged; such a one might be to the indulgent and forgiving Father,
‘this thy son,’ but never to them, a brother. They cared not who or how many
were lost, so long as they were undisturbed in heirship and possession by the
return of penitent prodigals. …”
I guess the point of all this, or at least what I learned
after my 150th reading of the parable, is that I don’t have to be
the one who sins away comfort and security to be in peril. It was an
interesting – and suitable – defense for the practice of repeat reading,
secular or non-secular.
-- Doug Gibson
