Rembrandt’s Return Of The Prodigal Son

I was an art major in undergrad, which means I took more art history classes than any human should be required to sit through. And then, because God has a sense of humor, I spent an entire semester in seminary studying one painting. One.

Rembrandt’s The Return of the Prodigal Son.

Paper after paper after paper on this. But it’s become my favorite painting of all time. Not one of my favorites. My favorite.

Rembrandt painted it right near the end of his life, the same year he passed away. In the painting, the son is kneeling. His shoes are worn through. His clothes are ruined. His face is buried in his father’s chest. He’s come a long way to get there, and you can see it. But the part that gets me every time is the father’s hands. They’re resting on the son’s back. One hand is firm, almost strong. The other is soft, almost tender. And the father isn’t pointing back toward the pigpen. He isn’t giving a lecture. He isn’t reviewing the son’s mistakes.

He’s just holding him.

And then off to the side, almost in the shadows, Rembrandt paints the older brother. Standing. Watching. Arms stiff. He’s close enough to see the grace, but he’s not in it. He stayed home the whole time, did everything right on paper, and he’s the one who can’t enter the embrace. He’s too proud to need it.

So many people who look at this painting instinctively identify with the younger son. We see ourselves as the one who wandered and came home. But the real challenge of the painting, and of the parable, is the invitation to become the one whose hands don’t push away. The one whose first instinct toward the broken person isn’t to correct but to hold. The one who doesn’t say, “Let me tell you everything you did wrong.” The one who says, “You’re home. That’s enough for now.”

To become that requires the death of pride. It requires the end of scorekeeping. It requires a humility that only comes from having been held yourself. Luke 15:20 says the father saw his son while he was still a long way off, and ran to him. That’s the picture James is drawing toward in chapter 4 when he says, “Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will exalt you.” You don’t earn your way back. You don’t clean yourself up first. You bow, and He runs. One hand strong enough to hold you. The other gentle enough to heal you.????????????????