Howard Thurman and the Parables: What Do Parables Want? (PART III, Chapters 5 & 6)

 

Part III: Two Sons and Their Father: A Parable about Us 

Chapter 5: Listening for the Whisper of God: “Thou Hast to Churn the Milk” 

Introduction 

The General Context in Luke 

The Departure (Luke 15:11–13a) 

Reading the Parable 

Insights from Howard Thurman’s Interpretations

 

Dissolute Living (Luke 15:13b–16) 

Reading the Parable 

Insights from Howard Thurman’s Interpretations 

The Prodigal “Comes to Himself” among the Swine (Luke 15:17–19) 

Reading the Parable 

Insights from Howard Thurman’s Interpretations 

• Thurman’s View of the Three “Lost” Parables: The Beginning of Community 
• The Prodigal Discovering Who He really is 
• The Prodigal Discovering Who He really is . . . that God is within Him 
• The Prodigal Son and “the Sound of the Genuine” 
• The Relationship between the “Inner” and the “Outer”
• There must be Community 

Chapter 6: A Father’s Love; A Brother’s Anger Return and Reception (Luke 15:20–24) 

Reading the Parable 

Insights from Howard Thurman’s Interpretations 

• The Prodigal Son and the Jewish Love-Ethic in the Religion of Jesus 
• The Prodigal Son and the Restoration of Community through Love 

The Older Brother, the Father, and the Prodigal (Luke 15:25–32) 

Reading the Parable 

Insights from Howard Thurman’s Interpretations 

• What is God Like? The Restoration of Community with God 
• What is God Like? The Restoration of Human Community 

Conclusion: (Love your enemy)

Howard Thurman and the Parables: What Do Parables Want? (PART IV, Chapters 7, 8, & 9)

Part IV: The Compassionate Samaritan: An Apostle of Sensitiveness

Chapter 7: Trauma on the Road to Jericho 

Reading the Parable: General Context in Luke 

The Good Samaritan Parable: The Trauma and Lack of Response (10:30–32) 

Reading the Parable 

Insights from Howard Thurman’s Interpretations 

• Identifying with the Wounded Man 
• The Love Commands 
• Modernizing, Humanizing, and Applying the Parable 

Chapter 8: Compassion, Mercy, and Hospitality: The Samaritan attending to the wounded man (Luke 10:33–34a) 

Reading the Parable 

Insights from Howard Thurman’s Interpretations 

• The Love-Ethic of Jesus 
• Compassion: Its Source and Implications for Human Society
• Compassion: Relating One-on-One as Children of God 

Chapter 9: Compassion, Mercy, and Extended Hospitality: The Samaritan bringing the Wounded Man to the Inn (Luke 10:34b–37) 

Reading the Parable 

Insights from Howard Thurman’s Interpretations 

• Hospitality 
• The Ultimate Source of Empathy is God 
• Creating Community One-on-One 
• Becoming “Apostles of Sensitiveness” (or “Eccentric Apostles”)
• Establishing Community through Practice 
• Affirmation Mysticism and Social Change 
• Love, Empathy, and Community 

Conclusion: The Good Samaritan as Parable 

With Whom do We Identify?

Howard Thurman and the Parables: What Do Parables Want?

Here is the current outline of my next book: What Do Parables Want?: Howard Thurman, the Parables, and the Quest for Common Ground. 

The book argues argue that the parables of the Prodigal Son and Good Samaritan are foundational to Thurman’s life and thought, fundamental to his understanding of the religion of Jesus, and, in our continuing search for common ground, exemplify a path toward community with God and our fellow human beings. 

 

It hopefully integrates several different aspects into a coherent whole, based on Thurman’s example:

• NT scholarship on the historical Jesus, the parables, and Thurman's Jesus and the Disinherited.
• Visual art both to illustrate “how parables work” in Chapters 3–4 (which also help explain Jesus and the Disinherited) and, primarily in the forthcoming Study Guides, following Thurman’s example, using the fine arts to raise spiritual awareness and create community.
• Analyses of the parables of the Prodigal Son and Good Samaritan parables and how Thurman’s perspectives on them fit into his life and thought.

 

The ultimate goal is by exploring what these parables want and using the insights of Howard Thurman, to continue the quest for common ground, for community, for, to paraphrase his words, “a friendly world of friendly human beings.”

The consists of 10 chapters (of about 6000 words each) in 5 parts, and I'll start from the back so they appear in order on the blog:

Part V 

Chapter 10: “We’re Connected” 

Introduction 

Main: Creating Community 

Why Should We be Good?: Because It is Good 

Why Should We be Good?: Because We are All One 

Why Should We be Good?: Because It Ultimately is for our own Good

Thurman’s Vision: A Prodigal Son Experience must lead to becoming a Compassionate Samaritan 

“Frighteningly Idealistic” and Unrealistic? 

Afterword: “We all do Better when We All do Better” 

A Religious or Secular Universal Ethic? 

There is no Sane Person in Hell 

A Web of Mutuality 

A Solidarity Dividend 

A Virtuous Spiral: The Relevance of the Prodigal Son and Good Samaritan Parables as a Compassion-in-Action, Justice, and Extending Community 

The Call to Respond Because or in Spite of It All

What Are They Saying About the Parables?: Greco-Roman Contexts (Chapter 6, Part 2): The Parables, Greek Fables, and Ancient Rhetoric

 

The Parables, Greek Fables, and Ancient Rhetoric 

Adolf Jülicher noted that “the majority of the parabolai of Jesus, the ones bearing a narrative form, are fables, such as the ones of Stesichoros and of Aesop.” Jülicher’s judgment did not gain wide acceptance, especially since his arguments primarily relied on the discussion of fable in Aristotle’s Rhetoric. Often when scholars do raise the issue of Greek fables, they are dismissed with a distinction between parable and fable such as the one used by T. W. Manson: parable tends to depict human relations by inventing cases analogous to what happens in real life. Fable, on the other hand, is “pure fiction,” which often invests animals, birds, and plants with human attributes. Madeline Boucher, for example, echoes Manson’s sentiments, but she adds that fables have a “prudential lesson,” whereas parables have a “religious or moral lesson” which is “typically Semitic.” 

Rhetoric, however, was pervasive throughout Hellenistic-Roman society by the first century C.E., and rhetorical modes of argumentation saturated everyday discourse in almost every form of oral and written communication. The most important rhetorical influences to the formation (and interpretation) of the gospels are the progymnasmata (or “preliminary exercises”), compositional textbooks used in secondary education that represent widespread educational practice for those who read/spoke/wrote Greek. These rhetorical handbooks, such as the ones by Aelius Theon of Alexandria (middle-to-late first century C.E.) and Hermogenes of Tarsus (second century C.E.), functioned in secondary education to instill the fundamental rhetorical skills to prepare students for more complex forms of oral and written composition: longer speeches and narratives. The parables, as well as other elements of composition in the gospels, reflect this progymnastic level of rhetoric and rhetorical training. 

Mikeal Parsons notes that the chapter in Theon’s Progymnasmata on the fable provides fertile yet under-tilled soil for examinations of the parables of Jesus, specifically where Theon states, “It may be possible for one fable to have several conclusions (or morals), if we take a start from each of the matters in the fable.” With this understanding in mind, the seemingly disparate applications of the parable of the dishonest steward (Luke 16:1–8a) in 16:8–9, 16:10–12, and 16:13 can be seen as a rhetorical unity instead of being evidence of “different traditions.” 

In antiquity the term fable denotes several kinds of brief narratives, including those stemming directly from human experience. Aelius Theon, for example, defined fable more generally as “a fictitious story picturing a truth,” a definition endorsed by the classicist Ben Edwin Perry. In fact, many fables are about humans and the Gods; thus they can convey religious truths (xxiv). In contrast to David Flusser’s claim that the mashal was dependent on the Greek environment (e.g., Greek philosophy, Aesop’s fables), Perry argues the reverse: The Greek fable had its literary-historical roots in the Semitic East. In fact, Perry claims, the Hebrew mashal is the precursor of the Aesopic fable.

Next up: Mary Ann Beavis and Joshua Stigall.

What Are They Saying About the Parables?: Greco-Roman Contexts (Chapter 6, Part 1)

 

Although Jesus was a first-century Jewish teacher and wonder worker, the parables, in their present contexts, are in Greek. The Jewish heritage of the Jesus portrayed in the Synoptic Gospels merges with Hellenistic-Roman forms of speech, thought, and action, so that the “Synoptic Jesus” speaks and acts in roles that combine Jewish and Hellenistic-Roman modes of words and deeds. Because Hellenistic culture influenced all Diaspora Judaism and Palestinian Judaism to a certain extent, the Jewishness of the Synoptic Jesus does not preclude the existence of Hellenistic elements. A careful reading makes clear that the gospels merge biblical patterns with Hellenistic patterns and conventions; they—and the Jesus they portray—are intercultural. 

Chapter 6 begins with a quick (and incomplete) review of scholarly views of the language(s) Jesus spoke, such as those who believed that the parables "almost certainly took shape in Greek" (Robert Funk) and opposing views (e.g., that Jesus told the parables in Aramaic). The latter is the more likely case, in my view, even though Charles Hedrick’s (and others) work seems to verify, at least in part, Funk’s arguments about the importance of euphony in the parables in Greek. 

Hedrick does not interact directly with Funk’s conclusion that the parables were initially spoken in Greek, however. Instead he notes that the form in which one analyzes the poetics of the parables will not be the language or the form of their “original audition.” While Hedrick’s investigation of euphony may give little information about the “initial” form of the parables, it does reveal much about their present characteristics in early Christian literature. In fact, one of Hedrick’s primary contributions is his innovative work of recognizing the critical nature of sound in both the structure of the parables and in the way the stories are organized.

Most of the remaining posts stemming from this chapter in the second edition will include discussions of fables and Greek rhetoric, but other aspects will be included as well.

Prodigal Son: “devoured your living (bios) with prostitutes” (pornōn)

Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, The Return of the Prodigal Son, 1667/1670. National Gallery of Art. 

An interlude before getting to the Greco-Roman contexts of parables.

While writing my current book project, What Do Parables Want?, I revisited an article by Callie Callon: Adulescentes and Meretrices: The Correlation between Squandered Patrimony and Prostitutes in the Parable of the Prodigal Son, CBQ 75 (2013) 259–78.  

It is a delight to encounter articles that drastically alter or enhance one's understanding of a puzzling text, and Callon's article is an excellent example of scholarship that accomplishes that feat. 

Skip down to the bold font below to get the main point.

In the parable of the Prodigal Son, the last section tells us that the older son had not yet been invited to the celebration of his brother's return, and, in fact, did not even know that his brother had returned: This “elder” (presbyteros) heard “music and dancing” and had to be informed what was happening by a slave boy (pais), who summarizes what had happened (cf. 15:23–24 and 15:27). 

Surely this omission adds to readers’ sympathy for the older brother, since he, once again, seems to be slighted. The older son so far appears to be hardworking and loyal to his father (e.g., he was “in the field” working when his wayward brother returned), and now his share of the inheritance is a real concern: the return of the younger son and the celebration with a fatted calf surely meant that his own share of the inheritance was already being used to support the younger son. 

[Deleted a bunch of other observations about the two sons and their father]

Once the older son appears on the stage, the parable begins to build a negative portrait of him. His refusal to enter the house and to engage in table fellowship insults his father, and the father has to come outside to plead with him—the Greek word plead can mean to invite, exhort, encourage, or comfort. Then the older son disrespectfully addresses his father without a title (even the younger son always uses the title, “father”; 15:12, 18, 21), states that he had “never disobeyed” his father’s commands (although, if true, he is rejecting his father’s entreaties now), and begins a litany of (exaggerated) complaints. He stresses his servitude to his father and complains about how his father had treated him (e.g., “me” in 15:29 is emphatic in Greek). He thus accuses his father of favoritism and attacks his younger brother by refusing any familial relationship with him—referring to him not as “my brother” but pejoratively as “this son of yours” (15:30)—and stressing and perhaps exaggerating the younger son’s failings. His claim that the younger son “devoured your living (bios) with prostitutes” (pornōn, which suggests a more negative translation than prostitute) might be questioned. How did the older son get that information, and is it accurate? 

One option cogently argues by Callie Callon is that Luke uses a “stock trope” of squandered patrimony and prostitutes: Luke, in telling a story that featured prodigality, could also avail himself of one of the stereotypical features of prodigality common in Greco-Roman comedy: “expending one’s patrimony on love interests, particularly prostitutes.” This accusation’s purpose is to defame his brother in a way that might also seem humorous to the intended audience. Another common feature in such comedies is the restoration of the prodigal through his father’s forgiveness.

What Are They Saying about the Parables?: Jewish Contexts (Chapter 5, Part 8): Reading Jesus’ Parables in their Jewish Contexts (Amy-Jill Levine)

 

What Are They Saying About the Parables? Second revised edition with three additional chapters and new content in every chapter 

A reminder: I am only selecting, editing, and revising selected sections of the book and deleting significant sections just to give a taste of what the book covers. For the full discussion--summaries and my analyses--please see the second edition of What Are They Saying about the Parables? 

Amy-Jill Levine

Amy-Jill Levine’s books on the historical Jesus, The Misunderstood Jew, and the parables, Short Stories by Jesus, also explicitly seek to be a “bridge” between Jews and Christians for whom “far too long Jesus has been the wedge that drives” them apart. Both books are written in an engaging style on an introductory level, are provocative yet constructive, and are essential readings for Jews who want to learn about the historical Jesus and his message and for Christians who need to learn about Jesus’ Jewish identity. 

In The Misunderstood Jew, Levine discusses how Christians generally tend to misunderstand Judaism—which can lead to intolerance and even hatred of Jews—yank Jesus out of his Jewish context, and thereby interpret the New Testament in anti-Jewish (and also sexist) ways.  

Jesus, Levine notes, actually is in a long line “of Jewish teachers and prophets, for he shares with them a particular view of the world and a particular manner of expressing that view” (20). As Levine argues: “Jesus cannot be understood fully unless he is understood through first-century Jewish eyes and heard through first-century Jewish ears.

The book discusses several key parables, but this post will focus on Short Stories by Jesus, in which Levine examines how Jesus’ provocative parables might have been heard by first-century Jewish audiences, how they have been domesticated, and how they have been misinterpreted in anti-Jewish ways. 

Levine’s treatment of the Lost Son (Prodigal Son) parable (Luke 15:11–32) illustrates her approach. She argues that Luke “misleads” by turning this parable and the other two “lost” parables—the Lost Sheep (15:4–7) and Lost Coin (15:8–10)—into allegories about repentance. Neither sheep nor coins are capable of repentance, and it is doubtful that the prodigal son repents either (27). This rather “harmless allegory” in Luke—where the younger son represents sinners and tax collectors and the older son represents Pharisees and scribes—later becomes a dangerous stereotype when the older son is interpreted as an allegorical representation of Jews who “slavishly serve God the Father in order to earn a reward” in contrast to Jesus’ proclamation of salvation by grace from a loving father (28). In the context of Jesus’ ministry, Levine argues, the parable is not a story of repentance and forgiveness, and these and similar misinterpretations “not only get Jesus wrong, and they not only get Judaism wrong; they inculcate and reinforce bigotry” (21). 

“Biblically literate” hearers of the parable recognize the biblical patterns encouraging them to identify with the younger son (e.g., Jacob versus Esau) and also suspect that the prodigal does not repent but “connivingly” concocts an insincere plan to return to his father so that he will no longer be hungry (53–54; cf. Exod 10:16; Luke 12:17; 16:3; 18:4–5). 

Levine also questions long-held assumptions of many scholars, such as ones popularized by Joachim Jeremias’s The Parables of Jesus (128–32). She argues, for example, that the prodigal does not treat his father as if he were dead, the prodigal’s problem is hunger not uncleanness (because of feeding swine), it is not surprising that the father is compassionate, and it is not undignified or dishonorable for the father to run to his son, and other details (47–57). Many of these arguments are convincing, although a few are not (e.g., whether the parable implicitly compares the father with God--although there clearly are some problems with a simplistic representation; cf. how the son claims to have "against heaven and before"shis father).   

 Levine closes by considering what the parable of the Lost Son “wants” (68–70). In a parable in which no one really repents, exhibits remorse at hurting another, or expresses forgiveness, Levine finds a simple exhortation that is “more profound” than a message of repentance and forgiveness: Do not wait for an apology or for the ability to forgive someone who wronged you. Instead: “Do whatever it takes to find the lost and then celebrate with others, both so that you can share the joy and so that the others will help prevent the recovered from ever being lost again” (69). By doing so, you will have begun a process that leads to reconciliation and a second chance for wholeness, whether in our personal lives, or communities, or even the world. 

Levine’s Short Stories by Jesus is essential reading for anyone interested in the parables of Jesus, just as her The Misunderstood Jew is essential reading for anyone interested in the historical Jesus. Careful readings of these two volumes will help to remove blinders that prevent Christians in particular from seeing the all-too-common anti-Jewish readings of New Testament texts. Yet Levine’s primary focus on reconstructing Jesus’ cultural context and criticism of “newer approaches” that are explicitly ideological (e.g., 22) minimizes the reality that all reconstructions of the cultural context of Jesus are, in part, also ideological representations of our own social and other locations. See WATSA Parables? for further details (e.g.,  her reading of the Rich Man and Lazarus parable, for example, omits insights about the culpability of the rich man).  

The Jewish contexts are critical for understanding Jesus' parables, but Greco-Roman sources and contexts should also be an essential part of the repertoire of any parable scholar, and the next series of posts will give highlights of some of those studies (rhetoric, fables, etc.).