Thread by @Delafina777

Okay, as promised, let's take a Twitter look at all the weird Christian commentary and claims about first-century Jews centered around the father (and hypothetical villagers) in the prodigal son story.

https://twitter.com/Delafina777/status/1489149919420026882

For those who haven't been playing along at home, we've also looked at their wacky claims about Jews and shepherds, both that Jews hated shepherds and that Jewish shepherds broke lambs' legs to teach them not to stray. (?!)

https://twitter.com/Delafina777/status/1357234758175002629

And the preceding page on my site talks about a LOT of weird claims in Christian commentary on the story of the woman who loses her coin (although it looks like I didn't actually do a Twitter thread on those; I should).

So let's talk about the weird claims about Jewish fathers Christian commentators make when talking about the parable of the prodigal son, or as I prefer to call it, the parable of the father who had two sons.

So by FAR the claim I saw most often, in almost every place I looked, was that the father's behavior upon seeing his son was somehow extraordinary, far outside the norm.

And if you *start* from the assumption that the father represents God, I guess that makes sense. If the whole point of this is about how God loves people, you gotta do something to make the dad look extraordinary.

But starting from that assumption is incredibly silly.

Like, if you start from the assumption that you already know what the point of a parable is, what's the point of reading it? A one-line summary does you as much good and takes less time.

Start by approaching the story as a STORY.

So if you stop assuming the father is God and just look at him as a human father, I'm not sure he comes off all that well, frankly.

First off, who lets their son wander off without a plan to keep in touch, and just gives him up for dead as soon as he's out the door?

Second, when the son you thought was dead comes home unexpectedly and you throw a giant party to celebrate, who *doesn't bother to tell your other child what's going on*?

The elder son is out working in the field and only knows there's a party because he hears the music.

As Amy-Jill Levine notes, tartly, in one of her lectures, Dad had time to hire caterers and a band, but not to tell his other child what was happening?

This guy you want to be God?

This is the final story in a trilogy, and the father's role parallels that of the sheep owner in the first and the woman in the second.

"You have 100 sheep... a woman has 10 coins... a man had 2 sons."

So the sheep owner in the first story has 100 sheep milling around and yet manages to notice when one of them goes missing.

That's an incredible feat! Most of us can't tell the difference between 80 moving animals and 100 on sight.

The woman in the second story has 10 coins and notices when one of them goes missing.

That's a little less remarkable. Like, that's a normal human level of perception, noticing when 10 stationary objects go down to 9.

And Dad in story #3?

He only has 2 sons and seems unable to keep track of either of them. He notices, I guess, when the younger one leaves but seems unaware that he's losing the elder.

Moreover, when the sheep owner notices that one of his sheep is missing, he risks everything he has--he leaves the 99, who, y'know, are also likely to stray without supervision--to go find it.

The woman searches the entire house to find her missing coin.

What does the father do when he loses his younger son? Squat. Just gives him up for dead.

He does take action with the older son, when the older son expresses anger at being forgotten, I guess, so maybe he learned something.

But seriously, this guy's your allegory for divine love?

Sorry, I had a father who made me breakfast every morning, who never missed a school event, who was thrilled at the chance to help me with projects.

When I went to a faraway place to start my adult life...

...he drove with me. He stayed to help me get settled. When it was time for him to leave, he asked me if I wanted him to stay longer. He held me and wept at the airport.

You better believe he wouldn't let me starve.

I'm supposed to be impressed by the dad in the story?

Like, I'm supposed to see this guy's love as "radical"? I'm supposed to believe he's shockingly better than human fathers?

Phbbt.

I don't think this trio of parables is about divine love. I think it's a call to *awareness.*

It's a reminder to pay attention and make sure no member of your family, your community, your people gets lost.

As Levine describes it, these are parables about counting. Who aren't we counting? Who's being made to feel like they don't count?

There's no call to action in three examples of divine love.

There IS a call to action in three stories of people who lose something or someone.

But since Christian commentators almost universally assume the father is supposed to be God, they also feel compelled to demonstrate that his love is somehow radical.

Which means they have to contrast it to human love.

And so of course Jews become a negative foil for the father in the story.

This story must have been s h o c k i n g to its original (Jewish) listeners, somehow, which means that what seems like a normal thing--a father is glad to see the son he thought was dead--must be NOT how Jewish fathers would have reacted.

So the thing BY FAR that I saw the most was claims that the father's running to greet his son was something that would have shocked Jewish listeners.

A fairly typical articulation of this comes from Bekgaard:

"The father's running, and hugging and kissing him, was a breach of tradition and unbecoming a man of his age and position."

Alyce McKenzie manages to come up with something even worse:

"This is more maternal behavior, as is the kiss. Here the father exposes himself to humiliation to prevent his son from being humiliated. "

You might be asking, since this appears to take place on the family's property, "humiliated in front of WHOM?" the servants? his brother?

oh no, dear reader, it's far worse than that

But before we get to that, I want to examine this assumption that Jewish men would never be caught dead running to greet anyone, that Jews would find such behavior "shameful" or "humiliating."

I mean, Abraham runs to greet visitors, and that's understood as a GOOD thing.

Laban runs to greet Jacob, because that's how you greet a family member you didn't expect to see. When Esau sees Jacob after years of estrangement, he runs to greet him.

Family members run to greet each other all over the Torah.

So, where does this idea that a Jewish father would never run to greet a son he hadn't seen in years come from? Why is everyone assuming Jewish fathers were abnormally cold toward their children?

Schottroff traces it to Jeremias, but it's not that simple.

Blomberg cites two sources, Ruth Etchells and Robert H. Stein.

So I decided to look them up and see what they said.

I wasn't able to get a copy of Etchells's "A Reading of the Parables of Jesus," so I don't know exactly what she said.

I did find out that she was a poet and school principal, not a historian or anthropologist or archaeologist. So probably not a great source for info on...

...first-century Near Eastern child-rearing practices.

Stein says this:

"Throwing aside Oriental behavioral conventions, Jesus has the father run to his son in order to show God's love, joy, and eagerness to receive outcasts."

What's his source? Ben Sira 19:30.

"The way a person dresses, the way he laughs, the way he walks, tell you what he is."

I mean, okay...? That doesn't tell us that running to greet a family member or guest is undignified.

Blomberg also claims that a normal Jewish father would have required a "full display of repentance" before greeting his son.

Repentance for...?

Last I checked, the son asked his father for money and his father gave it to him to spend as he wanted to.

Here's Blomberg:

"All of these details strongly suggest that Jesus wanted to present his audience with more than a simple, realistic picture of family life. Rather he used an extraordinary story to illustrate God's amazing patience and love for his ungrateful children."

Like, I dunno, I'm not clear on what in this story is unrealistic or extraordinary.

For this paragraph, Blomberg cites Bailey:

"An Oriental nobleman with flowing robes never runs anywhere. To do so is humiliating. Ben Sirach confirms this attitude. He says, "A man's manner of walking tells you what he is."'...

"... Weatherhead writes, "It is so very undignified in Eastern eyes for an elderly man to run. Aristotle says, 'Great men never run in public.'" The text says, "He had compassion.""

So, again we've got the Ben Sira quote that doesn't actually say what all of these commentators are making it out to say. And we've got Aristotle, who's neither Jewish nor from the right time period.

Bailey also cites Bengel's "Gnomon of the New Testament" (1742) which says, "Parents are not ordinarily disposed to run and meet their children."

It doesn't cite any sources for that claim.

Bailey also cites, as proof, an anecdote about a pastor he knew whose congregation didn't respect him because he walked too fast.

No, I'm not kidding.

This is his source for the norms of 1st century Jewish society: 20th century Christians.

Levine cites even more bonkers claims:

Scott: Jewish fathers "were remote and figures of authority"

Buttrick: "He has left his honor behind, his position, his community standing.”

Gotta go do a thing, but when I get back, we'll dig into the commentary weirdness around the younger son's request to his father.