AS in the days when Jesus was on earth, his gospel of healing is continually opposed by the representatives of hereditary doctrines to which the human mind gives the authority of precedent and law. Except for some refinements and variations, these formulations of so-called law are substantially the same as the articles of belief and the erroneous precepts which the Master was compelled to meet and master. When the Pharisees disputed with him they would often magnify the importance of their ancestral codes, in the vain attempt to disprove his understanding of law and of the commandments of God. At one time both Pharisees and scribes united in demanding a reason for the neglect of the disciples of Jesus to walk after the traditions of the elders in eating their repast.
The Master quickly recognized the hypocrisy of his interlocutors and rebuked their rejection of God's commandments, which they evaded in order that they might observe their own pagan traditions. He further told them that their dissemination of these material traditions vitiated the possible effect of the Word of God. He then, as one speaking with authority, commanded his audience to hear his answer and to understand that a man is not harmed by what he may eat, but that it is evil thought alone which injures the moral character or body. He carefully explained, upon a metaphysical basis, that the conditions of mortal man depend on thoughts proceeding from "the heart" (a material sense of life or motives), and not on the effects of asserted physical laws pertaining to the washing of pots and pans, cups and brazen vessels.
Jesus often explained that the traditional codes employed by the religionists of his period for the government of men were valueless to their well-being. He never attached any importance to material symbols in religious affairs; even the watery baptism in Jordan was permitted as a concession to the practices of the period. His whole lifework was a demonstration of the worship of God, Spirit, "in spirit and in truth," and he showed its availability to human needs by healing sickness and destroying sin. Material ordinances or a perfunctory observance of the mandates of mortals, the older thought established by the traditions of men, played no part in the theology of Jesus, nor do they to-day.
In the parable of the prodigal son, as given by Luke, which is often called "the pearl of parables" because of the rare beauty of the lessons which it teaches, the same type of traditional thought is delineated by Jesus in the angry, self-righteous "elder son." He refuses to enter into the same house, the same consciousness as the penitent prodigal, but remains outside to criticize, condemn, and vent his envious thought of the father's loving welcome extended to the long-lost brother. The question naturally arises, What does this elder brother stand for in the narrative, and what is the lesson Jesus intended to convey by introducing this shadow into the narrative of a domestic drama otherwise replete with joy and thanksgiving over the return of the wanderer?
Does not this elder son of the flesh concretely typify the traditions of men who always claim to dispute, criticize, and find fault with those who, in returning to their heavenly Father's house, are favored with some special manifestation of His truth? Was there ever an honest student of Christian Science, with consciousness illuminated by the glory of the ever-living Father, divine Love, whose first mental feasts were not immediately challenged by some friend or relative demanding to know what these things meant, and seeming to dispute the prodigal's right to the Father's bounty? It seems indeed clear that this self-righteous son, who says, "Lo, these many years do I serve thee, neither transgressed I at any time thy commandment," stands for religious tradition claiming to be right on the basis of time-honored custom. It surely represents a condition of thought which claims to be a true son of God, but which always attempts to justify the human self, is never really grateful, but is self-pitying, self-conceited; having all things, yet not actually conscious of ever having had so much as "a kid;" facile at destructive criticism and never rejoicing over the true repentance of a sinner.
It was with this type of human thought that the gentle Master took occasion to impress a lesson of the universality of divine Love; not a human affection, momentarily overjoyed with the events of the day, but the impartial grace of the unchangeable Principle, Love, always gentle, compassionate, patient, and true: "Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine." The Master indeed made the lesson transparent, that the providence and goodness of the Father are equally extended toward those who seem to criticize, condemn, and envy the children of light; that it even extended to "the unthankful and evil," and was as the rain, falling alike on 'the just and the unjust." Such being the case, how can we establish our right to an inheritance in the Father's house unless we manifest toward those bound by tradition this same patience and kindness which are so well portrayed in this parable of man's repentance and of God's gracious mercy and impartial love? The many hues of this pearl of Messianic parables blend in imperishable beauty, which will lose its significance unless we understand and joyfully welcome the lesson as it touches the elder son and our relation to him and his views.
