Mark’s Gospel calls us, as community and Church who need it more than others, and who are so reluctant and slow to put out into the deep of discipleship. We tread the circle of the Good News of God in the world, circling home through the heart of this beloved Son, home with all the Father’s children. As we go, we learn a new step or two in the Spirit’s way of dancing home, around and around and around. Amen.

—from St. Anthony Messenger’s “Mark: The Gospel of Conversion“
by Megan McKenna

Prodigal son, forgiving father, resentful brother: there is something here for each of us.

Jesus is a storyteller—a master storyteller.

But the stories he shares are not the kind we are used to hearing. Jesus uses parables, a form not often told in Western cultures. We’re accustomed to stories that have a beginning, a middle, and an end “happily ever after, ” if possible. A parable, on the other hand, sets the scene, continues with an odd detail here and a subtle hint there, and, just when we expect it to end it doesn’t. It leaves us hanging waiting, hoping, wondering. Parables are meant to throw us off-kilter, to make us wonder “if, ” to call us to conversion.

Most of us have heard the parable of the prodigal son, also known as the prodigal father, the merciful father, the lost son(s). Each title reveals something about the story. But these titles focus on the middle of the story. When it comes to parables, the beginning and the end are the places of power and deepest insight.

The prodigal son is the third story in a triad that focuses on God’s concern for those who are lost. It follows the parables of the lost sheep and the lost coin. The beginning of Luke’s narrative provides a context for understanding these parables and gives us important insight about the audience for whom the stories are intended.

Luke situates these stories at a feast, a public meal. Jesus celebrates and eats with tax collectors and sinners outcasts and those on the fringe of acceptable religious society. Many would think he shouldn’t be seen with these people, much less share a meal with them. Luke sets the scene:

“The tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to listen to him, but the Pharisees and scribes began to complain, saying, ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.’ So to them he addressed this parable ” (15:1-3).

The three parables are directed, like an arrow to the heart, to the self-righteous who criticize Jesus’ behavior and his dinner companions, refusing to join them for the meal.

A Familiar Tale

The parable of the prodigal son begins simply, disarmingly so: “A man had two sons. ” This is a story about the father’s relationship with both of them and, more importantly, their relationship with each other. We know from hearing the story so often that both have terrible relationships with their father and are estranged from each other.

As we listen, we tend to decide which son we are like: the one who wants his inheritance now (in effect saying, “I want you dead and gone “) or the one who says, “I’ve slaved for you my whole life, and I have nothing to show for it. “

In the time of Jesus, the elder son would inherit everything from his father. In turn, it was his responsibility to care for the other members of the family, carry on his father’s name, and honor him. Usually, after the initial inheritance, the elder son would give a portion to his siblings.

But the younger son wants his share now! And from the very first action of the father, things start to get strange. Instead of following the tradition of the Jewish community by passing on the full inheritance to the elder, the father splits it in half and gives the younger son an equal share.

Jesus’ listeners would be shocked. What kind of Jew and father is this man? From the onset, the actions of the father are about one thing, which becomes more obvious toward the end of the story: getting his children to realize how much he loves them, and to reconcile with each other.

A Calculated Plan?

We know the gist of the parable. The younger son squanders his share of the inheritance on “a life of dissipation. ” He has cut his ties not only to his father and family, but also to his race, his country, and his God.

Then he falls on hard times, reduced to the lowest level of survival, taking care of swine. He’s so hungry, he wants to eat the pig slop, but nobody offers him any.

He finally “comes to his senses. ” We tend to interpret this as repentance, but it is nothing of the sort. It’s a coldly calculated plan to take care of his basic needs. He will return home, “eat humble pie, ” and offer to resume working on the estate to be paid as an ordinary hired hand, nothing more.

This would widen the gulf with his older brother, who has lost half his inheritance and now has to pay his wayward brother while he stays at home.

A Family in Turmoil

When the younger son sold his birthright and inheritance, he betrayed his community, his religion, and his God. On his route back he will have to face his angry neighbors and other Jews. They will probably throw dung and garbage at him, if not stones.

The geography of small communities followed the same pattern. The houses were in the heart of the town, then the public areas, marketplaces, the well, synagogue and other buildings, then the outlying fields owned by all the extended families. He would have to work his way back into his father’s house.

This is the reason his father goes out every day to seek his lost son, hoping against hope that he will return. When he does, he will serve as his shield, walking back in with him. He is willing to humiliate himself day after day, hoping the younger son returns.

This action reveals the sorry state in the family. It was the responsibility of the elder son to keep the family together. The older son should have gone after his brother. He has disregarded the first of his duties as elder son/brother, causing his father to be humiliated daily before the whole community.

The Heart of the Story

The younger man returns, but his father is a couple of steps ahead of him. He catches sight of his younger son from afar, is filled with compassion, runs to him, and embraces and kisses him. He orders the servants to quickly bring the finest robe for him, put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.

Again, this father breaks family and societal traditions. Typically the elder son would receive these items as part of his inheritance: the robe, the signet ring that bears the seal of the family, and sandals for contact in public with others in the community. The father not only welcomes the younger son back, but also gives him all of the older son’s expected authority and power as the head of the family.

The father’s next words convey the core of the story: “Then let us celebrate with a feast, because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost, and has been found. ” And the celebration begins the gathering of people, the telling of the story, the preparation of the table and food, music, and the entertainment. Phase one of the father’s plan is set in motion.

And now, we see the elder brother’s relationship (or lack of it) with his father and his brother. He’s out in the fields, tending to what’s left of his inheritance. He hears the music, dancing, and celebration and asks a servant what is going on.

In Luke, this servant represents Jesus, the obedient servant of the Father our oldest brother who preaches the good news of forgiveness. “Your brother has returned and your father has slaughtered the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound. ” The Gospel has been proclaimed!

An Understandable Reaction

Enraged, the older brother refuses to enter the house. Their father goes out again in sight of the townspeople, humbling himself, trying to lure his other son back. One had been lost in the “wilds ” of the world; the other is “lost in his father’s house. “

When his father begs him to join the family and welcome his brother home, the elder son bluntly replies:

“Look, all these years I served you and not once did I disobey your orders; yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my friends. But when your son returns who swallowed up your property with prostitutes, for him you slaughter the fattened calf. “

He sees himself as a slave to his father, and he refuses to acknowledge that the other son is his brother. The father makes it clear that he loves them both: “My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found. ” And the parable ends abruptly.

What Comes Next?

There is a saying among storytellers that “the story begins when the teller stops talking. “

This story can end in a number of ways. The elder brother can come back with his father and embrace his brother, reconciling with him. He can act as if everything is all right and still despise his brother, biding his time to get what remains of his rightful inheritance. Or he can refuse to come in and stay in the field, shaming his father even more.

The younger brother can notice they are both missing and go out and ask forgiveness of his brother. He can send a servant out with a gift, a peace offering, asking him to come in and celebrate. Or he can ignore them both and selfishly think he’s got a good thing going here.

The father can go back in, weep, and send his servant to each of them, begging them to return home (and the servant is beaten or killed by them both). The brothers can both go out and meet halfway. Or, others from the community can try to bring them together, working on the one they know from friendship and life.

This is the intent of the parable. A man had two sons who were both lost, and who refuse to live as brothers, tearing the family and the community apart. To sit together at the table is to forgive and be forgiven, to begin to reconcile and start to live in communion as the beloved sons and daughters of God, who is intent on bringing us all home together.

Our Place in the Story

We are all lost in many ways both in our worlds and in our Abba‘s house when we refuse to live in communion with our brothers and sisters. The parable is about the God in whose image we are made Father, Beloved Child, and Spirit who holds us together as the three who are One. Our relationship with God is only as good as our relationship with one another.

The story can have many names. Perhaps these will open doors of insight and action for us: “The Family Reunion: The Feast Begins! ” Or, “Time for Dinner! Come Home, Children. Come Sit at the Table, and Let’s Eat Together. “

We know in our hearts that at any meal, what’s on the menu isn’t the prime reason we’re there. What’s important is who we break bread with and who we toast with the wine we share.

Jesus’ parable, told at a meal, reminds us that all are invited to the feast. Our God wants us all at home, sitting around the table, rejoicing and dwelling in peace.

Scholars have referred to Mark’s Gospel as a passion narrative with a few introductory texts. But more to the point, it is better described as a primer on conversion.

Once upon a time there was a king who heard the message of an itinerant holy man and was struck to the heart. Immediately the king gave up his throne, his power and possessions, and begged to become the man’s disciple. The master said the king would find it extremely hard to be a worthy disciple, because of his former position and because he must undergo a harsh apprenticeship, obeying the master without question.

The king pledged his obedience and life to the master. He was assigned to collect and empty the slop buckets, humiliating for a former king. But he performed his task diligently.

Weeks went by, and the other disciples grew uncomfortable with the way the master was ignoring the new disciple. They came to him saying: “Is the king ready yet to be one of us?” Finally, the master sent his number-one disciple to test the king’s readiness. The master told the head disciple to spill the contents of the slop buckets over the floor the king had just washed. He was to watch the king-disciple’s reaction and report back.

When the buckets were dumped, the king was livid. He turned on the disciple in rage, telling him that he was lucky. If the king were still the king, he’d have had him severely punished for his actions. When the disciple reported this, the master shook his head saying, “As I thought, he’s not ready yet.”

When the former king was tested next, he held his tongue, but his face grew red and his eyes glared. The third time, the king controlled his words and his face, but looked rigidly at the floor, struggling. When this was reported, the master knew the king was getting close.

More weeks went by, and the disciples were feeling that the master was being far too hard on someone who had once been king and yet had done so much to change. The head disciple asked to test the king again. “Please,” he said, “I think this time he will be ready.” The head disciple was given permission. This time the king-disciple did not react with anger, but merely looked the head disciple in the eye with gentleness and bowed before him. Then the king-disciple began to clean up the floor.

But the head disciple wanted to make sure. And so as the former king bent over his task, the head disciple kicked the bucket a second time. Again, the king-disciple straightened up, bowed low and went about his work. Elated, the head disciple ran to his master and excitedly told him that, yes, the king was ready to join the other disciples.

The master listened and said, “You are right. The king is now ready. He has become a disciple.”

As the head disciple turned to leave, his master’s words brought him up short. “Wait! When you go to tell him and bring him here, you must take his place.” The disciple was stunned and asked why. “Because you did not obey me. You tested him as I instructed you and then you did something on your own that was not necessary. It is time you learned obedience once again, and he will take your place as my head disciple.”

The man obeyed, chastened, seething with bitterness and confusion. The king had become a true disciple, ready to begin his new life, but the other was just beginning to learn what it means to listen, to obey, to follow the master and to know what being a true disciple might entail.

Is the king ready yet? Are we?

Discipleship Continually Refashions Us

This story is a paradigm for Mark’s Gospel. We are called again and again to learn—often the hard way—what following in the footsteps of the crucified and risen beloved Son of God might mean.

Just when we think we know, there is something to face that we never expected and did not take into account. There is the call to discipleship and to catch people in the net of the Kingdom; the call to deny one’s very self and take up the cross that is laid on us by our sharing the truth and sufferings on behalf of justice; and there is the call to community in the Resurrection.

It never ends. It is a circle that comes back around, spiraling in and down as it reforms and refashions us in the image of the beloved Child of God.

“The gospel of Jesus Christ [the Son of God]” (Mark 1:1—all quotes are New American Bible unless indicated otherwise). This is the way the first Gospel begins: blunt, abrupt, as though it were an interruption to history, to thought patterns and to all of life. And then immediately it jumps backward in time to the Prophet Isaiah and forward to John the Baptizer and to the “one mightier than I,” who “will baptize you with the holy Spirit” (Mark 1:7-8).

This is a tradition of prophetic discipleship. Before the first chapter is complete, Jesus will have continued in this vein and called his own to come after him, patterning their lives—and our own—on his way. We begin immediately with the first call to discipleship in the Gospel: the call to “Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men” (1:17)—the call to catch men and women for the Kingdom of God. And Peter, along with Andrew, James and John, turns Jesus’ way and goes off in his company.

The journey to Jerusalem, the place of reckoning for all prophets, begins with this first step, the initial call to discipleship. And for the next seven chapters Jesus will gather more into his company and teach them in word, parable, healings, associations with the poor, the outcast, the leper and the sinner, and by feeding them with bread, insight and hope.

There are only 16 chapters in Mark, and there is an immediacy that is relentless, building in intensity and demanding our response. We come along with them, wrestling with the words and presence of God in Jesus, seeking to know the truth of who this man really is who calls us out. In the words of Simone Weil in Waiting for God, it is hard to sift through our lives to the actual truth of the person of Jesus.

In the past, scholars have referred to Mark’s Gospel as a passion narrative with a few introductory texts. But more to the point, it is better described as a primer on conversion, a summons to discipleship. This discipleship is fathoms deep—with each call drawing us further and further into waters that are mysterious, fearful and wondrous.

Question of Jesus’ Identity Central

Eugene La Verdiere’s two-volume commentary on Mark (Liturgical Press) divides the text in half: Chapters 1 through 7 and Chapters 8 through 16. The turning point is Jesus’ probing question, “Who do people say that I am?” (Mark 8:27), after he has fed the 4,000 and warned his disciples about the leaven of the Pharisees.

When Peter seems to know the answer and is quick to respond with “You are the Messiah!” (Mark 8:29), he is ordered not to repeat that to anyone. Peter has his own ideas on who Jesus is and who he wants Jesus to be. In reality, Jesus will not fulfill any of Peter’s hopes. Instead, Peter will have to learn through the hard experience of failure, dismay and betrayal that this man is far beyond anything he imagined.

To the Jews, messiah often meant a political or nationalistic savior who would put the Jewish nation back on the map and free them from their oppressors. That concept not only limited who Jesus might be, but also emphasized aspects of liberation and freedom that were not helpful in coming to know Jesus’ true identity.

The fledging disciple, Peter, is ordered brusquely not to spread this erroneous idea. And Peter is caught up sharply and confused, as all of us must eventually learn in our singular and often skewed relationship to Jesus.

And then Jesus presents the heart of his message: the first teaching on how “the Son of Man must suffer greatly and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and rise after three days” (Mark 8:31). Peter vigorously argues with Jesus, resisting this teaching with every fiber of his body and soul.

This confrontation is incisive, splitting the two halves of the Gospel into who readers might have thought this man was and who he believes himself to be, insisting that we look squarely at the truth and not be mired in our own wants and intentions.

Peter begins to reject and resist at this midpoint. By the time he vehemently denies Jesus three times in Chapter 14 (verses 66-72), we shouldn’t be so taken off guard, wondering how he could have done that—he’d begun to fashion his own way of being Jesus’ disciple long before he was questioned in the high priest’s courtyard by a serving girl and a stranger.

The Demands of the Cross

Peter stumbles over the second call to discipleship: the summons to the cross, which is the stumbling block for all disciples.

Jesus said to the crowd with his disciples: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what does it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father and the holy angels” (Mark 8:34-38, New Revised Standard Version).

This chapter and Jesus’ words act as a hinge between the halves of Mark’s Gospel, a door that can either open to the possibility, fraught with the danger and demands of the cross, or close off the mysterious grace-filled way of Jesus’ revelation of himself as the beloved child and suffering servant of his Father. That revelation began at his baptism in the opening chapter.

Each step of the way opens to awareness and vulnerability, yet also presents a temptation to remake Jesus and his message and meaning into our own design that suits our own ends. It is far easier to ignore the Gospel’s hard words and warnings that Jesus consistently shares with disciple-friends who are afraid at what he might be saying, especially his suggesting that they might have to suffer and share death with him.

Call to Be Different

In Mark’s last eight chapters we hear Jesus’ teaching on how his disciples should act among themselves and how they are to differ radically from other groups in their society and culture. They are to guard against ambition and envy of anyone’s position of power, always living as servants, intent on one another’s needs, especially attentive to those in most misery or need. Jesus’ disciples are to shun riches as a danger and instead give what they have to the poor, laying up “treasure in heaven; then come, follow me” (Mark 10:21b).

They are reminded three times of the cross that looms before them, their own blindness and pettiness that cause dissension among them. Again disciples are to be characterized by being servants. “Whoever wishes to be first among you will be the slave of all. For the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:43-45).

True discipleship is imaged in unlikely people: children, those without any power in society, the poor, those who struggle to live with dignity, Peter’s mother-in-law who immediately rises from her sickbed to wait on Jesus, a woman who reaches out to touch just the hem of his garment, a widow who gives a copper coin not worth a cent but gives out of her sustenance all she has to live on. All these people image Jesus, who will give his very life.

And there is a foreigner, a Syrophoenician woman who humbles herself before Jesus, begging on behalf of her daughter, surprising Jesus with her quick repartee and at the same time suggesting that he may belong to others besides the sheep of the house of Israel—perhaps he belongs to anyone in need, who is humble enough to acknowledge who he is as the beloved of God.

Another woman anoints him, publicly and ritually, with oil poured upon his head in the tradition of the priest, prophet and king. She will be remembered for her action, her alliance with him, her witness to his presence and power.

The 12 disciples who accompany Jesus keep missing the other disciples whom Jesus keeps pointing out and praising as those who believe, those who know him and those who are truly already “in his company.”

The Resurrection Challenge

The third and last call to discipleship is in the last chapter on the resurrection. After the terrible reality of Jesus’ rejection, brutalization and crucifixion, and the burial, there is only an empty tomb and the message that the disciples are to return to Galilee. There they will see him. After hearing this, the three women “fled from the tomb, seized with trembling and bewilderment. They said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid” (Mark 16:8).

Many people think this is the original ending of Mark. It falls like a stone, sinking into the sea. Is that all there is?

But that is the beauty and the ingeniousness of the text. In their fear, the three women do go to the other disciples (all those in the city for the feast, all those who traveled in his company from Galilee, and the disciples—perhaps 30-70 people).

And they go home to Galilee, a journey of 90 miles, traveling together for a week or more. We can imagine them, walking and talking their way through their bewilderment and fear. They probably share the stories and the memories of their master, their teacher, healer, companion who fed them, warned them and suffered so terribly yet strangely. They marvel that somehow he could be still alive and waiting for them.

This is the call to discipleship in the Resurrection: to walk in community, sharing the gospel with the other disciples, walking and talking through our fear and looking for him out in the world.

The disciples return to Galilee, and when we return to the beginning of the Gospel, we find that in that first chapter (perhaps we missed it before) after Jesus’ baptism, “After John had been arrested. Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the gospel of God: ‘This is the time of fulfillment. The kingdom of God is at hand. Repent, and believe in the gospel’” (Mark 1:14-15).

He appeared in Galilee and we, like the disciples, are to make our way through the Gospel again and again, in light of the cross and the resurrection. We catch what we missed before: that this Jesus is in the tradition of Isaiah, the suffering servant, John beheaded and Jesus crucified, and that we too must walk in that way, picking up our cross and coming after him, part of his company of friends, learning and relearning what it means to follow Jesus Christ, the Son of Man, the Son of God made flesh among us.

In the Beloved Son’s Company

We go around again in the paschal year’s mystery, in the Gospel readings, in our lives and times, in history and the sacramental rituals, sharing our knowledge and growing in the mystery of discipleship and wisdom of being in this beloved Son of God’s company. Company here means those who break bread together—the bread of the Scriptures, the bread of the Eucharist and our bread, our money and our resources shared among those in greatest need.

Mark’s Gospel is so densely packed, so rich in layers and unfathomable except in community. Historically, it is more than 30 years after the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. Some scholars think it is a struggling community being pressured by the Jewish community to fight with them against the Romans to protect the Temple in Jerusalem.

And Mark writes to exhort his small band of followers to remember the Temple is now the Body of Christ, the Way of the Cross is the way of nonviolent resistance to evil, and No! they are not to fight the Romans. Instead, they are to pick up their cross and walk in the way of service, never killing in the name of the Father or his beloved Son.

And yes, this is our calling, our summons and our saving grace in this year of Mark’s Good News.

Why would this God of ours summon us to be disciples of his beloved Son? In the words of a Sufi master: “I chose to call you because you need it more than the others!”

Mark’s Gospel calls us, as community and Church who need it more than others, and who are so reluctant and slow to put out into the deep of discipleship. Once again in this year we tread the circle of the Good News of God in the world, circling home through the heart of this beloved Son, home with all the Father’s children. As we go we learn a new step or two in the Spirit’s way of dancing home, around and around and around. Amen.