Parsing the Prodigal – Part 1

Jesus’ parables were all composed for hearers who were sensitive to symbols and structure. The famous allegory of the prodigal son is no exception.

Most Christians are entirely unaware of the use of literary structure in the Bible. For scholars who are aware of it, structure is merely decorative; although some basic observations are drawn from antithetic parallelisms and symmetrical correspondences within chiasms, even the largest chiastic structures are considered to be little more than cleverly-fashioned ornamental chains.

But for the authors of the Scriptures, the use of structure as an allusion was the key to the text. If the chiasm was a recapitulation of a pattern found in earlier texts, then the key to its full meaning is actually outside of the text itself. Jokes often function in a similar way: they rely upon some knowledge which the audience already possesses and leaving this crucial piece of information out means that the hearer has to personally make the connection. This makes the joke even funnier.

The “allusive” use of structure is also a means of hiding the deeper meaning of a text in plain sight. The text has an exoteric meaning but also an esoteric one. The basic requirement for truth as “food” is provided in the literary “bread,” but there is also literary “wine” to be had in even the most basic Bible stories. This means that the same stories through which children come to know Jesus take on greater significance as the saints grow up. We ourselves mature but the stories never grow old. Their significance only deepens, and so does our understanding of God.

This hidden dimension does not mean that a failure to apprehend the types in the text, and indeed, the text itself as a “type,” renders the text completely enigmatic, but it does mean that paying attention to the contents and the deliberate arrangement of the text will likely render many of the diverse opinions concerning its finer details redundant.

The good news is that the Bible really only has one pattern, and, although it appears in a number of variations which relate to the domains in which they function, the fundamental process is the same: a growth to maturity and greater office—through a process of refinement and qualification—under the fatherhood of God.

Every book, chapter and stanza is composed according to the same pattern, stamped with the same “brand.” That signature is a tune that is played out in multiple registers and at various speeds, much like the “frequencies” of the orbits of the planets around the sun. Each instance of the sequence is a veiled allusion to the fundamental pattern of the biblical covenant. This not only means that every text has a “legal” import; it also means that, since every sequence can be aligned with every other sequence, no passage can be fully interpreted in isolation. Each is not only a leaf from a book; it is a leaf on a literary tree.¹See The Bible is a Fractal.

Let us apply this to Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32), and observe what results concerning its interpretation as part of His “legal” case against the rulers of Jerusalem.

Firstly, the passage follows the “T.H.E.O.S.” steps of the biblical covenant sequence, which is as follows:

The reason that these are presented here in a “V” shape is that a biblical covenant is quite literally “a mission from God.” The delegate goes out in God’s name and comes back with either plunder or plagues, depending upon his faithful obedience under the Ethics of the covenant. The “priestly” son will obey the Father and receive the kingdom. The “kingly” son who ignores the Law will lose even what he had (Matthew 25:29).

However, before we begin to analyse the parable, we must first observe this pattern in a passage in Deuteronomy, which is the instance of its use that Jesus is alluding to in His allegory. (Also note that each five-line stanza follows the tenfold pattern of the Decalogue.)

You will notice that this passage works through the sequence twice. This is because the execution of any individual required a minimum of two legal witnesses. The men who sat in the gate of the city were its judges. If a domestic matter could not be solved under domestic authority (Oath), it became a matter for the state to deal with (Sanctions). Because this law was for Mosaic Israel (an isolated Church-State with a mission to represent the Gentiles before God), such sins were to be nipped in the bud. The same process governs the book of Revelation, where Jesus deals with the Gentile pastors as governors of their respective churches, and then shows them the judgment of the city of Jerusalem, a place where the same sins had been allowed to grow to maturity (James 1:13-15). Because the elders of the city had failed to deal with its sins, they themselves would be cut off. The prophecy ends with a description of a gated city, a new Jerusalem, in whom corruption is not found (Revelation 21:27; 22:14-15).²For more discussion, see Michael Bull, Rescuing Revelation.

Now, of course, these executions were not always carried out. What many critics of the Old Testament Law fail to understand is that although these laws sound brutally absolute, not only were they entirely just and good but there was also room for mercy. The “must surely be put to death” justice of Leviticus is the same as the “shall surely die” of Genesis 2. Adam was given access to the “priestly” tree of life but was told that he would die on the day that he ate of the “kingly” fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (judicial wisdom). However, as we know, he did not die. His “shall surely die” sin was atoned for with substitutionary blood. Likewise, King David was not stoned for committing adultery and murder, and that was not entirely because he was the king. Saul, also a king, was rejected for lesser transgressions and driven by God to his doom. The difference was that Saul refused to repent. Cain was the firstborn “kingly” son and was spared most likely because kings, as lawmakers and judges, are inevitably above the law as it applies to common men, but they are instead subject to direct judgment from God. Even God refrains from the immediate slaying of a king since it encourages regicide. These are the reasons why David refrained from personally removing Saul. If he were to sit on the throne, it would be God’s judgment call. He would not seize kingdom like Adam but receive it like Jesus.

Satan’s desire in Eden was to use the good law of God as a weapon. That is the definition of legalism. God uses the sword of His Word to expose the hearts of men (Hebrews 4:12), especially to themselves. This is in order that He might show mercy. This is also why he called Adam to make a confession of what he had done. Adam failed once again, but in a judicial sense, Adam was still a “child.” He had failed to gain wisdom through the trial of faith.

A truly “majestic” king is a merciful king. He does not desire the death of sinners, but he does desire their repentance. This is why rulers require judicial wisdom. Solomon’s wisdom was demonstrated in his cunning use of the sword to reveal the hearts of the two prostitutes. The role of the government is to restrain evil on God’s behalf (Hierarchy), not to promote and enable bloodshed on Satan’s behalf (Romans 13:1-7). God created, established, and commissioned each of the four great “beast” empires before Christ—as earthly representations of the four great “living creatures” that guard His heavenly throne—but removed and replaced each of these “cherubim” when it turned to outright tyranny to maintain its power.

Another factor that is overlooked is that once Israel was in Canaan, God, like any good father, took a step back and allowed His “firstborn son,” once he had reached adolescence, to experience and learn from the dire long-term consequences of sin. In contrast to the “boot camp” of Israel’s time of judicial “childhood” in the wilderness, Yahweh restrained Himself from carrying out immediate judgments during Israel’s era of kingdom. This also meant that the law of God itself was vindicated as good. Once matured in the ways of God, a nation that then rebels and legislates for infanticide, or sanctions homosexual acts, will learn the evil of such abominations the hard way—by experiencing the consequences. Moreover, the text of the Bible itself often refrains from making implicit judgments upon the exploits of the people of Israel so that we, as readers, must develop some judicial discernment according to the revealed laws of God (Hebrews 5:14). In order to understand the text, we ourselves must become judges. That is exactly what Jesus does in many of His parables.

So, God loves to show mercy, but although he is long-suffering and motivated by love, He will always eventually cut off those who refuse to repent. In Jesus’ day, this explains the forty-year gap between the murder of the Messiah at the hands of the Romans and the destruction of Jerusalem at the hands of the Romans. This parable of the rebellious son is part of Jesus’ covenant lawsuit, and thus cannot be understood without a tight grip on the events of the Old Testament.

Overview

Let us now look at how this “covenantal” understanding informs the shape and content of the parable (Luke 15:11-32). The pattern is employed in its sevenfold form at three levels.

1. As a recapitulation of the “Creation-Tabernacle” sequence, the entire narrative follows a sevenfold pattern.
2. Internally, it is comprised of three sequences, each of which follows its own sevenfold pattern.
3. Each of the twenty-one steps also follows a covenantal pattern.

Thus, the seven steps of the larger pattern are each comprised of three of the smaller steps. These triplets of stanzas seem to work subtly through the Word – Sacrament – Government pattern, that is, an initial cause (Garden – word from above) followed by an immediate response (Land – food or flesh beside) and then an ultimate response (World – outcome below).

It is interesting that the “there-and-back-again” of the parable is not the geographical and moral turnabout of the prodigal. The real journey is that of the hearer who experiences every facet of the grace of God. The word “prodigal” means “extravagant.” Despite the prodigal’s betrayal of himself and his family, the story begins and ends with the extravagance of a father whose mercy humbles both the righteous and wicked. It should also be noted that the stanza at the very center of the structure (thus, under the sign of the serpent) is the honest confession of the prodigal, in whom there is no longer any guile before his father.

Since there are twenty-one steps or stanzas, they divide easily into three cycles of seven. This is where the unsettling literary genius becomes apparent. Each of the stanzas now also serves a second typological purpose as a step in these heptamerous cycles. The first concerns the departure and failure of the younger son (Word); the second his return and restoration (Sacrament); and the third the response of his older brother (Government).

	Forming Cycle 1	Filling Cycle 2	Future Cycle 3
TRANSCENDENCE Creation – Initiation	1A The Demand	2A The Plan	3A The Brother
HIERARCHY Division – Delegation	1B The Portion	2B The Journey	3B The Report
ETHICS: Priesthood Ascension – Presentation	1C The Waste	2C The Compassion	3C The Anger
ETHICS: Kingdom Testing – Purification	1D The Famine	2D The Confession	3D The Discontent
ETHICS: Prophecy Maturity – Transformation	1E The Pigs	2E The Humility	3E The Charge
OATH/SANCTIONS Conquest – Vindication	1F The Hunger	2F The Investiture	3F The Inheritance
SUCCESSION Glorification – Representation	1G The Awakening	2G The Feast	3G The Joy

Read Part 2.

If you are new to this method of interpretation, please visit the Welcome page for some help to get you up to speed.