The Parable of the Prodigal Son

“Father, today I am Your Son again. I will arise and return to You.”

Listen well to the Parable of the Prodigal Son…

"A certain man had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, 'Father, give me the portion of goods that falls to me.' So he divided to them his livelihood."

The younger son asks for his inheritance early. He wants what is his. He wants it now. He wants to go.

In the tradition of the Royal Art, we call this figure the Prince. He dwells in the Kingdom with his Father the King. All that the Father has is his — he lacks nothing, wants for nothing, is denied nothing. And yet something stirs in him. A restlessness. A curiosity. A desire to know what lies beyond the walls of the castle, beyond the borders of the realm.

This is the moment before the Fall. The tiny mad idea, as A Course in Miracles calls it. The thought: What if I could be on my own? What if I could have my inheritance and spend it as I please? What if I could be my own master?

The Father does not refuse. Love does not imprison. The Son is given what he asks for.

"And not many days after, the younger son gathered all together, journeyed to a far country, and there wasted his possessions with prodigal living."

A far country. This is the world. This is where we are now — all of us, reading these words, living these lives. We have journeyed into a far country, so far from home that we have forgotten there ever was a home. We have forgotten the Father's face. We have forgotten that we are sons and daughters of the King.

The word prodigal means lavish, extravagant, wasteful. The son spends everything he has on things that do not last. Pleasures that fade. Possessions that crumble. Experiences that leave him emptier than before. He squanders his inheritance on the valueless glittering distractions of the dream-world that promise fulfillment and deliver only hunger.

Is this not our condition? Do we not spend our days — our youth, our energy, our attention, our very lives — on things that cannot satisfy? We pursue wealth, and it does not fill us. We pursue pleasure, and it leaves us wanting. We pursue recognition, power, security, and at the end of each pursuit we find ourselves no closer to peace than when we began.

We are prodigal. We are lavish in our waste of what is precious.

"But when he had spent all, there arose a severe famine in that land, and he began to be in want. Then he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country, and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would gladly have filled his stomach with the pods that the swine ate, and no one gave him anything."

The famine comes, and it always comes. The world cannot sustain us because the world is not our home.

And we find ourselves in want — deep, existential want. A hunger that no earthly food can satisfy.

The Prince has become a swineherd. The heir to the Kingdom grovels in the mud, feeding pigs, so desperate that he would eat their slop if he could.

And notice: no one gave him anything. The world does not save us. The citizens of the far country do not care for us. We are alone in our exile, orphans in a land that was never meant to be our home.

Many people become bitter and angry and jaded because they look for sustenance and support in an illusory world, and in not finding it in the world they then believe it is not to be found anywhere - for the world is all they know.

A sense of separation from God is the only lack you really need correct.

All the other lacks — the lack of money, of love, of meaning, of peace — are symptoms. The disease is separation. The disease is the belief that we are far from home, cut off from our Source, alone in an alien land.

Repentance

"But when he came to himself, he said, 'How many of my father's hired servants have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, and I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants."'"

When he came to himself.

This is the beginning of awakening. This is the moment a ray of light enteres and the dream begins to dissolve. He remembers. He remembers that he has a father. He remembers that there is a home. He remembers that even the servants in his father's house live far better than he lives now.

And with the dim memory of a long lost Home comes the thought: I will arise and go to my Father.

This is repentance - simply a turning around. The word in Greek is metanoia: a change of mind, a reversal of direction. He had been walking away from home. Now he turns totally in the opposite direction and begins walking backwards, retracing the long outward journey back to the origin.

Notice what he plans to say: I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants. He believes he has sinned so grievously that he has forfeited his sonship. He hopes only for a servant's place — some crumbs from the table, some small corner of the house. He does not dare to hope for full restoration and he even expects some punishment for his sins.

This is how we feel. This is the voice of guilt and shame that tells us we have gone too far, stayed away too long, done too much damage. It is this guilt that prevents us from repenting and turning back, for we fear only judgement and damnation if we were to face our Heavenly Father openly.

Or perhaps we think: Perhaps God will take me back, but surely not as a son. Surely not with full inheritance. The best I can hope for is to be a servant.

But this son truly must have exhausted his prodigalness. See what happens next:

"And he arose and came to his father."

He does not merely think about returning. He does not merely wish or hope or plan. He arises. He comes.

The Father's Embrace

And now the heart of the parable. The moment that reveals the nature of God:

"But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him."

When he was still a great way off.

The son has not yet arrived. He has not yet made his confession. He has not yet proven himself. He is still far away, still covered in the filth of the pig sty, still carrying the shame of his wasted years.

And the father runs to meet him.

In the ancient Near East, it was considered undignified for an older man to run. A patriarch would walk slowly, with gravity. But this father throws dignity aside. He gathers his robes and runs toward his lost son. He does not wait for the son to come to him. He does not fulfill our image of the wrathful God of scripture and stand at the door with arms crossed, demanding explanations. He runs to meet us out upon the path back.

And when he reaches his son, he does not punish or lecture. He simply falls on his neck and kisses him.

This is the nature of God.

This is what the Course means when it says:

"God wants only His Son, because His Son is His only treasure. He wanted nothing else."

The father does not want the money back. He does not want compensation for the wasted years. He does not want groveling or punishment or penance. He wants only his son. The son himself is the treasure.

He only wants his Son to return to him and to the glory that is his birthright. Only to be in communion and relationship with his only begotten beloved child.

The Pesikta Rabbati, an ancient Jewish text, has a similar story:

"A king had a son who had gone astray from his father on a journey of a hundred days. His friends said to him, 'Return to your father.' He said, 'I cannot.' Then his father sent word, 'Return as far as you can, and I will come the rest of the way to you.' So God says, 'Return to me, and I will return to you.'"

You do not have to make it all the way home on your own strength. You only have to turn around and start walking. The road may seem long and arduous, but He will send his angels to minister to you.

And once you get close enough, The Father will come the rest of the way.

The Restoration

The son begins his prepared speech:

"And the son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight, and am no longer worthy to be called your son.'"

But the father does not let him finish. He does not let him get to the part about becoming a servant. He interrupts:

"But the father said to his servants, 'Bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet. And bring the fatted calf here and kill it, and let us eat and be merry; for this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' And they began to be merry."

The best robe, the lineage’s signet ring, he cothes his feet with sandals, and selects the best food available for a feast.

The father does not demote his son to servant status. He restores him fully to sonship. More than restores — he celebrates. He throws a feast.

This my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.

This is what awaits you. Not judgment or punishment, but full restoration. The robe of royalty placed on your shoulders. The ring of authority placed on your finger. The Kingdom that is your rightful inheritance returned to you as if you had never left.

All is forgiven. Better than forgiven, for it never actually happened at all.

Because in reality you never did leave. The separation never actually occurred. You dreamed of exile, but you never left the Father's house. You imagined yourself in a far country, but you were always safe at home in your Queen-sized bed, always at rest in the Kingdom.

The Course says:

"You dwell not here, but in eternity. You travel but in dreams, while safe at home."

The return is an awakening from a dream. And when you wake, you find that nothing was lost, nothing was damaged, nothing needs to be repaired. The inheritance was never squandered — it was only dreamed to be.

The Elder Brother

But there is more to the parable:

"Now his older son was in the field. And as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked what these things meant. And he said to him, 'Your brother has come, and because he has received him safe and sound, your father has killed the fatted calf.'

"But he was angry and would not go in. Therefore his father came out and pleaded with him. So he answered and said to his father, 'Lo, these many years I have been serving you; I never transgressed your commandment at any time; and yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might make merry with my friends. But as soon as this son of yours came, who has devoured your livelihood with harlots, you killed the fatted calf for him.'"

The elder brother. He never left. He stayed home. He followed the rules. He did everything right.

And he is furious.

Who is this elder brother? Perhaps he represents those who think they can earn the Father's love through obedience, through works, through being good. They keep the commandments. They never stray. And they resent those who wandered and are welcomed back without having to earn it.

Or perhaps — and this is subtler — the elder brother represents a part of ourselves. The part that says, "It's not fair. I've been trying so hard. I've been doing the work. Why should grace be given so freely to those who didn't earn it?"

The father's response is gentle but clear:

"And he said to him, 'Son, you are always with me, and all that I have is yours. It was right that we should make merry and be glad, for your brother was dead and is alive again, and was lost and is found.'"

Son, you are always with me, and all that I have is yours.

This is the truth the elder brother has forgotten. He was never earning anything. The inheritance was already his. The Father's love was already complete. He was living in the Kingdom and didn't know it — working as a servant when he was always a son.

Both brothers needed to awaken. The younger needed to return from his wandering. The elder needed to recognize what he already had and to let go of ideas of “worth” or “earning” or “deserving”.

Perhaps there is something in the younger son's journey — the daring, the risk, the fall, the suffering, the return — that produces a different kind of knowing. He has tasted exile. He knows what it is to be lost. And so his gratitude at being found is deeper, his joy at return more complete.

But both are sons. Both inherit everything. The father's love excludes neither.

And the deeper truth is that God has only one Son, thus any ideas of separation and deserveablity among them are meaningless.

The Exiled Prince & the Return of the King

In the Royal Art, this story is the same. The Prince drinks a potion of forgetfulness and becomes orphaned from the realm, wandering penniless in the Wasteland. He forgets his royal nature. He squanders his inheritance on the meaningless pursuits of the dream-world. He ends up crawling in the mud, as a lowly peasent feeding swine, scratching out a living as something barely human.

Then he begins to remember and awake. He sets forth on a great quest. He begins the long journey home that leads through many test, trials, and experiences that teach him of who he is and bring him closer to Home.

And as he gets closer, his Father the King runs to meet him. The robe of royalty is placed on his shoulders. The crown is set upon his head. The throne is prepared, and the Kingdom that was always his is returned to him.

The Course in Miracles calls the Holy Spirit "a Guide through a far country" — the Voice that whispers to us in our exile, reminding us of home, showing us the way back. We are not alone in our wandering. The Guide was placed in the dream at the moment we seemed to fall asleep, ensuring that we would eventually wake.

And when we wake — when we finally arise and return — we find that nothing was ever lost. The separation never occurred. We are, and have always been, at home in the Father's house. A house which is a mansion of many rooms.

The Prayer

So let this be your daily prayer.

I will arise and go to my Father.

And when doubt comes, when guilt whispers that we have gone too far, when shame insists that the best we can hope for is a servant's place — let us remember the father running toward his son, falling on his neck, kissing him before a single word of confession is spoken.

And let us remember the Workbook lesson 234 from A Course in Miracles whose central thought is simply this:

"Father, today I am Your Son again."

Not tomorrow. Not when we have earned it. Not after sufficient penance. Today.

Today I am Your Son again.

This is the end of exile, the culmination of all your wandering. This is the return that was always certain, because the Father never stopped loving, never stopped waiting, never stopped running toward us the moment we turned our faces home.

As soon as you left home he sent his call, his voice, and his guide The Holy Spirit to follow you and be present in your mind. To always whisper the simple and direct path Home.

The robe and ring are ready. The welcome feast is prepared. The Kingdom awaits your claim.

Father, today I am Your Son again.

I will arise and return to You.

——

Seth Balthazar scribes The Royal Art, a living Magnum Opus that is the restoration of the Western Mystery Tradition, from the Wizard's Tower.

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The lost, exiled, prodigal Son.

Listen to the story of the prodigal son, and learn what God’s treasure is and yours: This son of a loving father left his home and thought he squandered everything for nothing of any value, though he did not know its worthlessness at the time. He was ashamed to return to his father, because he thought he had hurt him. But when he came home the father welcomed him with joy, because only the son himself was his father’s treasure. He wanted nothing else. God wants only His Son, because His Son is His only treasure. - A Course in Miracles,

The Prodigal Son is the third and final parable of a cycle on redemption, following the parables of the Lost Sheep and the Lost Coin.

The Pesikta Rabbati has a similar story:

A king had a son who had gone astray from his father on a journey of a hundred days. His friends said to him, 'Return to your father.' He said, 'I cannot.' Then his father sent word, 'Return as far as you can, and I will come the rest of the way to you.' So God says, 'Return to me, and I will return to you.'

The Parable of the Prodigal Son

Luke 15:11–32 (NKJV)

“Then He said: ‘A certain man had two sons. And the younger of them said to his father, “Father, give me the portion of goods that falls to me.” So he divided to them his livelihood. And not many days after, the younger son gathered all together, journeyed to a far country, and there wasted his possessions with prodigal living. But when he had spent all, there arose a severe famine in that land, and he began to be in want. Then he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country, and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would gladly have filled his stomach with the pods that the swine ate, and no one gave him anything.

‘“But when he came to himself, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, and I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants.” ’

‘“And he arose and came to his father. But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him. And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and in your sight, and am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

‘“But the father said to his servants, ‘Bring out the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand and sandals on his feet. And bring the fatted calf here and kill it, and let us eat and be merry; for this my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ And they began to be merry.

‘“Now his older son was in the field. And as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked what these things meant. And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and because he has received him safe and sound, your father has killed the fatted calf.’

‘“But he was angry and would not go in. Therefore his father came out and pleaded with him. So he answered and said to his father, ‘Lo, these many years I have been serving you; I never transgressed your commandment at any time; and yet you never gave me a young goat, that I might make merry with my friends. But as soon as this son of yours came, who has devoured your livelihood with harlots, you killed the fatted calf for him.’

‘“And he said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that I have is yours. It was right that we should make merry and be glad, for your brother was dead and is alive again, and was lost and is found.’ ”

I have recklessly forgotten Your glory, O Father; And among sinners I have scattered the riches which You gave to me. And now I cry to You as the Prodigal: I have sinned before You, O merciful Father; Receive me as a penitent and make me as one of Your hired servants. - kontakion hymn of the Eastern Orthodox Church

Luke 15:11-32

“I will arise and go to my father” (Luke 15:18 [KJV])

“Father, today I am Your Son again.” - The main idea of Workbook Lesson 234 of A Course in Miracles

“Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son” (Luke 15:18-19, 21[RSV]).

“Sin is the home of all illusions, which but stand for things imagined, issuing from thoughts which are untrue. ²They are the “proof” that what has no reality is real. ³Sin “proves” God’s Son is evil, timelessness must have an end, eternal life must die. ⁴And God Himself has lost the Son He loves, with but corruption to complete Himself, His will forever overcome by death, love slain by hate, and peace to be no more.”

• ACIM, [CE W-WI.4.3]

You feel as an orphan here.

The Father grieves that his Son suffers

“The Holy Spirit abides in the part of your mind that is part of the Christ Mind. He represents your Self and your Creator, Who are one. He speaks for God and also for you, being joined with both. And therefore it is He Who proves them one. He seems to be a Voice, for in that form He speaks God’s Word to you. He seems to be a Guide through a far country, for you need that form of help.” - ACIM, CLARIFICATION OF TERMS

“And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living. - Luke 15:13 (KJV)

The Holy Spirit “seems to be a Guide through a far country” and we are all the prodigal son.

The Pangs of Separation

This begins to give us some idea of how utterly lacking and empty we felt as a result of the separation. For God had been everything to us, our Mother, our Lover, our Brother, our Father.? In Heaven He had been “my Source of life, the life within, the air I breathe, the food by which I am sustained, the water which renews and cleanses me.”? Apparently cut off from Him, from our home, and from our creations, our heaven- ly children, we felt severed from our own being, from our own whole- ness. As the Course says, we quite naturally experienced “depression, a sense of worthlessness, and feelings of impermanence and unreality.’\* “And where, you wonder, does your strange uneasiness, your sense of being disconnected, and your haunting fear of lack of meaning in yourself arise?” - Robert Perry

‘A sense of separation from God is the only lack you really need correct.”

the father’s statement to his eldest son in the parable of the prodigal son: “Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine” (Luke 15:31 [KJV])