Religion and the Older Brother

Upon the recommendation of my good friend Adam, I recently read “Skeletons In God’s Closet: The Mercy of Hell, The Surprise of Judgement, The Hope of Holy War” by Joshua Ryan Butler

I must admit I was somewhat skeptical but curious, based on the title alone. (I suppose the publishers achieved their goal) Upon reading, I encountered perspectives that challenged my understandings on several fronts. Overall it was an enlightening read and is worthy of a re-read and deeper consideration. I hope to find an opportunity for conversation with others on the book.

A particular excerpt I found insightful and personally helpful, follows.

His father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, “Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!” “My son,” the father said, “you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.”

In this short passage, Jesus reveals two ways religion can destroy our souls. First, it can destroy the way we look at God. The religious son looks to dad as a slaveholder rather than a good father: “All these years I’ve been slaving for you . . .” He sees his dad not as a close friend, but a mean boss. Ironically, he’s been close to home geographically, but far, far away in his heart. His religious obedience has kept him distant from the overflowing graciousness of his loving father. Externally he’s been close, but inside he’s been on his own little island. His father, however, does not call him “slave,” “worker,” or “grunt,” but rather “my son.” His dad calls him not by his works, but by their relationship: “My son, you are always with me, and everything I have is yours.” The father rejects his son’s distorted perception of their relationship and calls him to intimacy. He looks upon his religious son with filial devotion and care. The second way Jesus says religion can destroy our soul is by the way we look at others. The religious son does not call the prodigal “my brother,” but rather “this son of yours.” When I would get in trouble as a kid, I remember my mom would jokingly tell my dad, “You’ll never believe what this son of yours did!” It was a way of distancing relationship. I was no longer “my boy,” but rather “your son.” Only, my mom was joking; the older brother here is clearly not. The religious son is distancing himself from his brother. He not only distances himself from his brother, he also elevates himself over his brother. He reminds dad which one’s been upholding the family name. Which one’s been taking care of the farmstead. Which one’s been contributing to the community. He lifts up his great track record (“ all these years I’ve been slaving for you”) in comparison to his brother’s illicit track record (he “squandered your property with prostitutes.”) The religious son lifts himself up . . . by pushing his brother down. And yet, the father rejects this power play. He calls the outlaw “this brother of yours.” He insists on reaffirming their family relationship. He refuses to identify the prodigal by his past behavior and instead reaffirms his present identity: “[ he] was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.” Dad rejects the religious son’s rejection of his brother. The father is for both sons. But he refuses the religious son’s exalting of himself over his outlaw brother. Tragically, the older son clings to his pride, refuses this reality, and remains sulking in the backyard.

What keeps the religious son outside the party is not the father’s refusal to let him in. He is kept outside by his own refusal to repent of his sin and self-righteousness, to let go of the pride inside his heart, to loosen his kung fu grip on the idol of himself. While the father beckons him into the party, “pleads with him” to come inside, the son prefers the backyard. He is kept outside the party by his religion. He is a slave to the sin he refuses to let go of. 

A captive to his own self-righteousness. 

He is bound by his religion.