Complaint of the Prodigal’s Brother
By Stephen Carter on Nov 2, 2006
Last Sunday my two twin brothers gave their farewell speeches at sacrament meeting. The first brother to speak (I couldn’t tell them apart as I was sitting at the back of the gym) gave 21-minute talk (yes, I timed it). It wasn’t an amazing talk (he only spent an hour and a half preparing it the night before), but it was passable. He had lots of quotes and lots of scriptures. He’ll do fine in the mission field.
Then my second brother got up and said, “Well, I prepared a talk, but I need to say something else.” Then he launched into a touching two-minute talk (yes, I timed it). His basic point was that he had experienced some bumps on the road to missionaryhood – bishop-type bumps – and that he was grateful for the power of the atonement. It was an effective ending to the meeting.
But then I started thinking, when people look back on this meeting, how will they remember it? Undoubtedly the star of the show will be my second brother. For all my first brother’s straight arrowness and perfectly good talk, his performance will be the least memorable. We’ll all remember my second brother. The one who apparently went astray and came back.
There are some parables about that, right? The one about the wandering sheep, and how the shepherd was willing to leave the 99 in order to bring back one? The one about prodigal son for whom a fatted calf was killed after he blew his inheritance on riotous living, while his workhorse brother watched from the shadows?
I admit it, I hate those parables.
I was the prodigal’s brother too; the guy who did his best to stay on the straight and narrow, who stuck around and did his work (for the most part). My little brother, he was the one who “made merry” (the Bible is a great place find euphemisms, you “know” 
).
I first started feeling the pangs of being the prodigal’s brother early in my teenage years when my mom was talking about my little brother. She said something along the lines of, “He’s having a hard time now, but that’s because he has a great spirit. You just watch, he’ll outstrip us all one day.”
This took me aback. It made me remember all those prodigal stories: Alma the elder, Alma the younger, the sons of Mosiah, Saul/Paul. Then why in the heck was I mucking around in my nondescript righteousness? It seems that my type are the footnotes, while the prodigals are the ones the stories are written about.
I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Decades. And I may have some up with something useful. Mainly this.
Maybe we prodigal’s brothers aren’t actually righteous. Maybe we’ve just sacrificed imagination and creativity for a comfortable, if anonymous, place in the kingdom. We’ve conflated righteousness with conformity. We’re hiding our light beneath a bushel.
So what happens to the prodigal son’s brother? Let’s say that justice prevails and he does inherit his father’s entire estate. Let’s say he stays on the estate his whole life, he raises his children there, and he’s financially successful. I wonder if one day he’ll wake up with the realization that his entire life was written by someone else. I wonder if he won’t wonder why he let his life be taken over by a story that wasn’t his own.
Is he condemned to never have his own identity, having allowed it to be consumed by the expectations of the people around him? At least his prodigal brother gave life a shot.
I’m thinking I want to set that bushel on fire.
Even when I was an active member of the church, I had this nagging suspicion that the LDS model of skating through life with as little deviance as possible was inherently flawed. From time to time, general authorities assure members that while there is repentance, one is far better off never having “sinned” at all. Such an approach, however, makes the supposedly dire results of “sin” a mere textbook theory. Mormonism calls for each person to take their own bite of the proverbial apple, specifically in order to discern the bitter from the sweet. There are many “prodigals” who would be far less compassionate, forgiving, and wise, had they not at some point strayed from the “ideal” path.
I like your question about whether the “good” brother will one day “wake up with the realization that his entire life was written by someone else” and that he may “wonder why he let his life be taken over by a story that wasn’t his own.” I’ve been there. I put aside someone else’s concept of how I should live my life, because it wasn’t working for me. Doing so frankly angered a number of people who endorsed that concept. I chose, however, to finally discover my own story, and to live it. Despite all the prophesies of peril that I was subjected to, this one choice has brought me far more peace and joy than twenty-six years of trying to walk the path defined for me by others.
Comment # 1 by Nick Literski | Nov 2, 2006 | Reply
The whole point of the parable of the prodigal son is to show that repentance is grand but a sometimes hard process and that slows one down in his progression back towards the Kingdom. The good brother has already all that the father hath meaning that he is already there while the prodigal son has to essentially start over or from a farther back point. In the end though, both brothers will be given the same reward as is told in the parable of the vineyard and the workers getting the same pay even though some worked harder than the rest.
This all ties in with the Kingdom of heaven and the realization that none of our works themselves boast of any strength towards receiving a reward without Christ. In His kingdom all will share in might, power, & dominion meaning that all will have the rights of the Holy priesthood which is indeed the power of God.
Going quite the other way from your story is what about the extreme of hearing about those who were chosen to do great and marvelous works and being called to all the cool positions in the church? Are they greater than the sinner turned good? Does the prophet of the Church always hold the greater power over me now and forever just because he was called to a different job than myself?
I believe the true answer to it all is that we must all learn to be humble and respectful of others and be more like Alma the younger and the sons of Mosiah, not because they are great because they returned from their great spiritual fall but because they were willing to see that although they were seen by the people as better than themselves they truly saw themselves as mere servants on equal ground with those they saved or were trying to save.
One last analogy- If I wait in turn in line at the fair for a really good ride and it takes 3 hours of standing in the sun and then my friend comes up right at the last and asks to butt in line, will we both enjoy the ride? Yes, but he who sat in the sun will receive a greater joy at first until the other comes to have the same joy of knowing the love the other had for waiting for so long for him. It is all relative. Christ suffered for our sins and yet we do not have to suffer for them and still be able to have the same fulness of joy because we both glory in the same thing from different angles.
Comment # 2 by Rob Osborn | Nov 2, 2006 | Reply
Stephen asks, Is he condemned to never have his own identity, having allowed it to be consumed by the expectations of the people around him?
I’ve asked that question many times, as my last post suggests. Certainly, Mormonism has no shortage of doctrinal and cultural expectations.
When one subsumes the self too much to the expectations of others, he/she will probably experience an identity crisis. Wikipedia identifies seven common identity crisis factors. A few of them are instructive here:
Self-Certainty: Do you feel consistent in your self-image and the image you present to others?
Role Experimentation: Have you tried different roles in search of the one that feels right to you?
Ideological social, philosophical, or religious values: Does your community’s social, philosophical, and/or religious values reflect your inner outlook on life?
Rob Osborn’s 3-hour-wait-in-line-for-a-ride example in Comment #2 is interesting… I see roughly four groups of people waiting in line. Some born-in-the-faith Mormons, by virtue of their DNA and/or life experience, naturally “fit” the portfolio of Mormon expectations better than others. These people — I’ll call them the first group – happily wait in line for the ride. The next three groups are the “Prodigals”: Group 2) those that leave and never come back (they’ve found a better ride); Group 3) those that leave and come back; and Group 4) those that want to leave but stay in line.
I personally think the first three groups are ultimately more happy than the fourth group. All three groups live their lives according to their conscience. The fourth group lives their lives based somewhat on the collective conscience and expectations of the first group. The first group tells the fourth group they’ll be happy like them if they wait in line: “Don’t worry, you’ll see… by the end of this wait it will all be worth it.” So the fourth group puts their faith in the testimony of the first group, hoping they are right. The second two groups have a testimony as well — they’ve tried other options and chosen the one that works best for them. The fourth group has no testimony, only faith.
Comment # 3 by Matt Thurston | Nov 2, 2006 | Reply
Stephen, you’ve nailed it!
I took a another peek at your prize-winning England Memorial essay and chuckled again at its last line: “…a…filament…trailed…” and knew that you knew.
This parable is arguably the best known, if not the greatest of all the stories Jesus gave us. I personally know that pig’s stye and what it feels like to be down and out AND to be disdained and shunned by all those worthy, righteous elder brothers. Yes. Who but a prodigal can ever truly know the love of our Father! That elder son never did (despite all the stuff he inherited)–nor did he ever know his own. So many among our people are so afraid to make a mistake for fear of missing experiencing this love that they miss the whole point!–the point of having let someone else choose their path. That kind of fear simply doen’t work! It’s the BIG LIE of our culture. It merely keeps them at home (beautiful and orderly they all might be) and blind to the adventure and the purpose of this lilfe.
I think of my favorite line spoken by the stout man in Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress: “Set down my name, Sir!” he says, after which the man takes his sword and cuts his way into heaven, giving and receiving many blows. What happens then? He is welcomed into eternal life.
ENK
Comment # 4 by Eugene | Nov 3, 2006 | Reply
Wait a minute!
My take on that parable is that the prodigal’s brother is a FIGMENT of the imagination. Christ made him UP so that we could see how ridiculous a character he is. Whatever our little brothers’ faults, failings and flailings, and however they differ from our own, the secret is. . . . EACH of us is the prodigal son!!!!! Each of us has our own painful path back to the things we have left behind in our attempts to learn good from evil. For some of us it just takes longer to see what we rejected of the things our Father was offering to us. We all take what we think is our inheritance and march off on our own paths. WE ALL DO IT!. It is the mark of our humanity.
My marching off with my inheritance took the form of absolute devotion to a static picture of the gospel. And I spent a good deal of that inheritance before I recognized that my Father was offering something else I had rejected — deeper truths about myself and others. True blue, and hardly a need for a typical confession out of my mouth, and I am the prodigal along with every brother and sister on the planet.
It’s what connects us. Forgive me, Stephen, but if you’re wishing you had your brother’s experience, GO HAVE IT! Something tells me you didn’t need his method of learning or the fallout from it that he’s suffered. That you DON’T really really want it. Am I wrong?
Comment # 5 by Lisa Tensmeyer Hansen | Nov 4, 2006 | Reply
I have enjoyed this essay and the comments.
I, too, have pondered this story. My take is a little different that all yours; I am an adult convert (have been a member for 31 years, all active) and had my choice of religions.
The wife of a former bishop of mine once made the comment that she was a “plodder.” There are a lot of us enduring to the end, plodding through our lives, being faithful, yes, but also doing the right thing because it is the right thing, not necessarily because that’s what we want to do. “The Lord loves plodders,” she finished, and I have to agree. It is true that we admire and even revere those who stray and are found, but because the Lord loves each and every one of us, regardless, he still has great appreciation and love for those who stay the course (sorry to borrow that phrase, but it applies here!)
I am also reminded of a friend’s words about settling the estate of her parents. Even though they were humble people who never had highfalutin’ jobs or large salaries, the estate was worth over half a million dollars when her mother died. These people had paid their tithing, lived righteously for many years, and had endured to the end.
We are all a sum of all our experiences. A life well and righteously lived over many years may not be as exciting or interesting as the prodigal’s, but those layers and layers of good works, kindnesses, and faithful acts gained over many years cannot be made up by the prodigal at the last minute, even if the ultimate reward is the same.
Frankly, I would rather not have the prodigal’s regrets and consequences, even if I would achieve the same kingdom as the faithful plodder.
Cari Clark
Comment # 6 by Cari B. Clark | Nov 6, 2006 | Reply
Thanks for asking, Lisa.
I’ll have to disagree with you about the significance of the prodigal’s brother as a character. I think that all the characters can profitably be interpreted a number of different ways within the framwork of the story.
To me, the prodigal’s brother embodies how many people react to life. We just let it take us along. The tradition is more vibrant than we are. Maybe Cari would call these people the “plodders.” I have to admit, being a plodder my whole life would be my definition of hell.
Eugene can correct me on this if I’m wrong, but one method of dream interpretation is to think of each character in the dream as representing yourself somehow. So what would happen if, instead of letting the prodigal hog all the intepretation, we find out a little about what the prodigal’s brother part of us feels like?
But at the same time, you’re right, Lisa. I’m not interested in living the life of the prodigal. It’s just not the way I function. I tend to live more inside my mind and heart than in the world. The thing that the parable was pointing out to me was that I may be missing out on life. Never really taking any initiative of my own, never making something interesting out of my life.
In fact, the prodigal’s story doesn’t resonate with me at all. Maybe that’s because I’m vain and prideful. But what I’ve found is that when I feel like I’m awful and no good and lost, it’s usually because I’ve swallowed some stupid piece of dogma, and allowed it to do my thinking for me. Once I let go of it, and start interacting with what is actually around me, I always feel much better. For me, it’s never a matter of returning home, humbled. It’s a matter of saying, “So this isn’t like home. So what? Let’s explore.”
Maybe the people back home will be interested in what I found. And maybe not.
Comment # 7 by Stephen Carter | Nov 6, 2006 | Reply
Stephen,
I’m following you. I can see how the prodigal’s brother may be living the unexamined life, and that this is the primary source of his discontent. However, as he’s normally drawn, “the brother without sin” has got to be a figment. It’s one of the passages that suggests to me that Jesus had a sense of humor. He recognized that the pious persons within his hearing felt full of “holier than they” and he gave them the opportunity to see themselves in the parable. But I’m certain Jesus knew that each of them was as prodigal as anyone bathing his feet with her tears.
I really like the image of swallowing a stupid piece of dogma and letting it thereafter do my thinking for me. That’s great. And boy, does it happen. I also agree that any dogma that makes one feel as if one is not worthy to approach God is missing the essence of truth.
Being prodigal doesn’t equate to me with being humiliated, though. I’ve hoped it means being humble enough to keep listening for the calls from home. And those calls usually sound like, “Keep it up, Lisa, and did you notice so and so is needing (fill in the blank)” — like YOU say, “interacting with what is actually around me.”
Your twist of not racing home, but sticking around to explore and interact seems like a worthwhile improvement on the parable for me too. Thanks for that.
Comment # 8 by Lisa Tensmeyer Hansen | Nov 7, 2006 | Reply
I want to comment on the brother. No where does it imply the brother was holier than thou. He too had to be saved. and ask the Lord to be his Saviour. I think he worked very hard to do what he felt was right. it did not mean he was not subject to temptation or stress or sin. Perhaps the brother’s prayers were what eventually brought the prodigal back. and indeed we do need to feel happly when one returns from wrongdoing. and the father was right to say, all I have is yours. which was comfort. meaning I will continue to sustain you. But everyone needs to feel appreciated. The brother needed to ask God for grace and favor not to feel any hurt or bitterness. it was probably many years of stress over the situtation. Even many of the prophets felt depression after a spiritual success.
Comment # 9 by nancy | Feb 12, 2007 | Reply
In my view, in the prodigal son parable should be “the prodigal sons”, because both sons had their own problems. One chose to go off and whoop it up, and the other chose to stay home and let hate and pride fester in his heart.
Those of us in the church who have no desire to go off and “make merry” are just as in danger, because it is too easy to take the “holier than thou” attitude. This pride is just as displeasing to God and the scriptures say that BOTH the proud and them that do wickedly will be burned as stubble.
I have seen that pride opens a person up to be deceived by false impressions and that false impressions cause a humiliating fall in the form of terribly mistakes, and those mistakes if not repented of lead to disaffection and rebellion from the church and subsequent apostasy. This is just as scary and self-destructive as wholesale disobedience to the commandments.
Comment # 10 by Michaela Stephens | Jun 12, 2008 | Reply
Totally agree with you, Michaela (and thanks for resurrecting this year-old thread)! Sunstone in fact ran an wonderful article last year, “The Yoga of Christ,” by Phil McLemore (linked here) that talks about the lostness and brokenness of both sons.
I’d also like to highly recommend the book, The Return of the Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming, by Henri J. M. Nouwen. It’s an extended meditation on Rembrandt’s famous painting of the prodigal’s return, but in it Nouwen puts himself in the place of all three main principals of the story. And the section in which he reflects on the older brother is both heartbreaking and breathtaking. External “righteousness” is indeed even a bigger stumbling block to our “coming to (our)selves” than those thrown up by more outward kinds of sins (a point the McLemore Sunstone article also makes).
One other thing I value in Nouwen’s book is how it gives the best explanation I’ve found about the confusing verse in Luke 15:31, “”Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine.” Through his meditation on the father and grace and the divine “economy” (versus materialistic economy we are so enmeshed in here and which makes us crazy when we try to get our brains around not only the prodigal story but the parable of the workers in the vineyard and others where it seems God isn’t being “fair” to those who labor longer), Nouwen destroys the idea that this is a father’s wink to the older son that, “Hey, yes we’ll party with junior but you’re still getting the whole inheritance, not him” (something McLemore points out as the exegesis we very often hear in LDS Sunday School).
Both the article and book also remind that the context of the chapter Luke gives the prodigal son parable is the scribes and pharisees complaining about Jesus hanging with sinners. The parables of the lost coin, lost sheep, and prodigal follow. Each is a counter to the attitude of the “righteous” complainers, well represented by the elder brother in the parable of the prodigal.
Comment # 11 by Dan | Jun 13, 2008 | Reply