Narrator: The Pharisees and teachers of the law muttered among themselves, "This man welcomes sinners and even eats with them." This complaint, a mix of disgust and religious superiority, was the spark that ignited one of the most famous stories ever told. Most people know it as the Parable of the Prodigal Son, a tale about a rebellious younger brother who squanders his inheritance, hits rock bottom, and is welcomed home by a forgiving father. But this common understanding misses the story's explosive, hidden meaning. In his book, The Prodigal God, Timothy Keller argues that Jesus wasn't primarily speaking to the rebellious outcasts. He was aiming his story directly at the self-righteous, morally upright people who were complaining—the elder brothers of the world. Keller reveals that this parable is not just about one lost son, but two, and that both represent a profound and dangerous way of being lost.

Narrator: Jesus tells the parable of the two lost sons in direct response to the criticism from the Pharisees. They are offended that he, a supposed man of God, would associate with tax collectors and prostitutes—the "younger brothers" of their society. Jesus’s audience, therefore, is not the irreligious crowd but the religious insiders. He crafts the story to hold up a mirror to their own spiritual condition.

The parable features two sons, and Keller argues that they represent the two primary ways people try to find happiness and meaning apart from God. The younger son seeks self-discovery through rebellion and breaking the rules. He demands his inheritance, an act akin to telling his father he wishes he were dead, and leaves to pursue a life of personal freedom and pleasure. The elder son, in contrast, seeks moral conformity. He stays home, works hard, and meticulously follows all the rules.

The shocking twist of the parable is that both sons are equally alienated from the father. The younger son is lost in a distant country, but the elder son is just as lost in his own backyard, simmering with resentment and a sense of entitlement. Jesus’s point is radical: both breaking the rules and keeping the rules can be ways of avoiding a true relationship with the father. The parable is designed to make the religious elder brothers in the audience see that their moral record and rule-keeping have not brought them closer to God, but have instead become a source of pride that blinds them to their own need for grace.

Narrator: Keller argues that the parable radically redefines sin. It’s not just about doing bad things, as the younger brother did. It’s about the motivation behind our actions, whether good or bad. Both sons wanted the father’s things, but neither truly wanted the father himself. The younger son wanted the father's wealth to spend on himself, while the elder son wanted the father's wealth as a reward for his good behavior. Both were using the father for their own self-centered ends.

This reveals a deeper definition of sin: putting yourself in the place of God. It is the attempt to be your own savior and lord. The younger brother does this by declaring his own moral code, while the elder brother does it by trying to control God through his obedience. He believes his good works create an obligation for God to bless him.

To illustrate this "elder brother" sin, Keller points to the story of the composer Antonio Salieri in the play Amadeus. Salieri makes a bargain with God, promising a life of virtue and service in exchange for fame as a great composer. He keeps his end of the deal, living a morally upright life. But when the vulgar and immature Mozart appears with a far greater God-given talent, Salieri is consumed by rage. He feels God has betrayed him. His "goodness" was never about loving God; it was a business transaction designed to control God and get what he wanted. This is the heart of elder-brother lostness: using morality as a strategy to put God in your debt.

Narrator: While the younger brother’s lostness is obvious—it leads to poverty and shame—the elder brother’s lostness is more subtle and, in many ways, more dangerous because it is so easily mistaken for righteousness. Keller identifies several key symptoms.

The first is a deep-seated anger and superiority. When things don't go their way, elder brothers feel that life, and God, have been unfair. They believe their moral efforts entitle them to a smooth, blessed life. This leads to a joyless, slavish obedience. The elder brother complains he has been "slaving" for his father. His service is not born of love or delight, but of a grim sense of duty aimed at a future reward. This fear-based morality is ultimately self-centered and leads to an inner emptiness.

Furthermore, elder brothers lack a deep assurance of their father’s love. Because their acceptance is based on their performance, they are never sure they have been good enough. They are devastated by criticism, haunted by an irresolvable guilt, and their prayer life is often dry and transactional, focused on petitions rather than intimate communion. This self-righteousness often manifests as social injustice, as seen in the author's anecdote about students from conservative churches who flee their faith. When these students encounter kindness from the "sinners" they were taught to fear, and then face judgment and bigotry from their own "moral" communities, they reject the elder-brother faith that produces such ugly fruit.

Narrator: The parable ends with a question mark. The father pleads with the angry elder son to come into the feast, but we never see his response. Keller suggests this is because the story lacks a crucial character: a true elder brother. The elder son in the parable is unwilling to sacrifice anything for his brother's return; in fact, he resents the cost of the celebration.

Keller explains that forgiveness is never free. When the younger son returns, the father absorbs the cost. He endures the public shame, he pays for the robe, the ring, and the fatted calf. This points to a deeper truth about salvation. For humanity to return from its exile, someone must pay an astronomical price.

This is where Jesus steps into the story as the true Elder Brother. He is the one who, unlike the brother in the parable, leaves his Father’s home to seek us out in our lostness. He pays the ultimate price, not just with his wealth, but with his life on the cross. He experiences the exile we deserved so that we could have the homecoming we did not. The story of the American soldier who traveled to Vietnam during the war, risking his own life to search the jungles for his missing-in-action younger brother, provides a moving picture of this concept. He was known simply as "the brother," a man willing to pay any cost to bring his sibling home. Jesus is that brother for all of humanity.

Narrator: Accepting the work of the true Elder Brother transforms a person's life from a state of slavish duty or rebellious self-indulgence into a feast. Keller argues that this salvation is not just a legal declaration but is meant to be experiential, material, individual, and communal.

It is experiential in that faith is not just intellectual assent but a "taste" of God's goodness, a felt sense of his love that changes our hearts. It is material because God cares about the physical world; salvation includes the promise of a renewed creation where there is no more death or pain. This motivates Christians to work for justice and serve the poor now. It is individual because each person must personally embrace the gospel, allowing it to restructure their identity and motivations. Finally, it is communal because a feast is meant to be shared. We cannot grow into the likeness of Jesus apart from a community of love and accountability.

Keller concludes with the story of Babette's Feast. In a joyless, religiously strict Danish village, a refugee named Babette spends her entire life savings to cook one magnificent French meal for the aging, bickering community. The feast is an act of prodigal grace. Under its influence, old grievances melt away, forgiveness is shared, and the community is healed. The meal is a glimpse of a different reality, where duty and joy meet. This, Keller argues, is a picture of the gospel. It is the feast of the Father, bought at an infinite cost by the Son, offered freely to anyone—younger or elder brother—who is willing to come inside.

Narrator: The central message of The Prodigal God is that the Christian gospel is not a call to become a better person through moral effort. It is a radical declaration that both the path of the rule-breaker and the path of the rule-keeper are dead ends. Both are strategies for self-salvation that ultimately leave us alienated from God. The only way home is to recognize our own spiritual bankruptcy and accept the scandalous, costly grace offered by the true Elder Brother, Jesus Christ, who paid our debt to bring us to the Father's feast.

The book leaves us with a profound challenge: to examine the deep motivations of our own hearts. Are we, like Salieri, trying to be "good" in order to control God and secure the life we want? Or have we been so moved by the sight of what it cost to bring us home that our duty has finally become our delight?