Everybody's Got One
A blog. An opinion. An elimination orifice. A dream. An agenda. A past. A hidden talent. A conceptual filter. A cross. A charism (often the same). A task. A wound. A destiny. A lost love. A blind spot. A bad habit. A secret. A passion. A soul ... okay, maybe not everybody ...
Monday, March 31, 2003

 

The prodigal's elder brother would not enter the house where he heard the rejoicing. He complained to his father, this son of yours ... has squandered your property in dissolute living with prostitutes ... [or as I once heard it wonderfully misread, in desolate living.]
How did he know that?

How did he know his brother hadn't returned home a success, to celebrate his good fortune with his family? Had he been keeping tabs from a distance? Did he simply assume, once a wastrel, always a wastrel? Or had the servant he asked for information taken the opportunity to gossip, and recounted the whole smarmy story, perhaps with embroideries?

If the latter, there are more problems in the father's household than his sons.

posted by Kelly | 3:28 PM link
archives
email
links