Maybe that’s the other brother on the left, next to the boy leading the fatted calf.

As is widely known, even among those of us not brought up in a religious tradition, Jesus told the parable of a certain man with two sons. The younger son asked for his share of what the two would inherit, cashed in, traveled to a far country, and “wasted his substance with riotous living.” Or, as his brother puts it later, “with harlots.” (Something artists have enjoyed painting.)

Then he was broke, there was a famine, the only work he could get was feeding hogs, and the hogs ate better than he did.

“[H]e came to himself,” remembered that his father’s servants ate well, and decided to go home and throw himself on his father’s mercy. “I… will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants.”

His father spots him coming, and rushes to him with open arms. The son barely gets as far as “no more worthy to be called thy son” before his father calls to the servants to bring clothes and shoes and a ring, and kill the famous fatted calf, and feast: “For this my son was dead, and is alive again…”

So they’re celebrating – music! – dancing! – (probably no harlots) – and the older son hears from the field, and comes to see what’s up. Argh! No-good baby brother is back and they’re throwing him a party! He stomps away; his father comes after him and asks him to come back.

Furious older brother complains that he has been a good dutiful son all these years, and he never got a party – whereas Mr. Hello Harlots! is getting the full red carpet treatment. How fair is that?

(Let me just pause to say that I have always sympathized with this guy. I have the natural suspiciousness of an older sibling, and while it is hard for me to imagine my sister wasting her substance in riotous living with whores, well, I have underestimated her in the past, so who knows? Plus they didn’t even invite him to the party.)

The Pleasures of the Prodigal Son (or, Eating Grapes with Musical Women)

The father says, “Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.”

The parable ends there. We don’t know if the older son says “Oh, all right,” and comes to the party. Or reserves the next fatted calf for his own party.

The prodigal son’s apology seems pretty good. He doesn’t make excuses, he doesn’t talk about his feelings. He takes the blame. He didn’t ask for the party – only for a job.

Mary Gordon, in Reading Jesus, is more critical. She says, “we aren’t even convinced of the sincerity of his apologies… He plans his words in advance; first we hear him rehearsing them, and then repeating them in his father’s actual presence.” I say there’s nothing wrong with rehearsing one’s words – if more people did so, maybe there would be fewer dud apologies.

Is he sincere? His brother might be even more suspicious about this than Gordon, but I assume that he is, because it says he “came to himself,” and because the context of the parable is how the angels are joyous “over one sinner that repenteth.”

Gordon rightly says that the apology isn’t very interesting to the father. “It is something that has to be said, something to be got through. It is certainly not something that makes possible what follows.” It’s the older brother who would really like to hear it. Over and over and over.