This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them. Luke 15:1, 2 Christ's influence with the masses W. E. McKay. The masses were drawn to Christ's teachings. I. THE REASONS FOR THIS ADMIRATION. 1. All lack of affectation — no parade of greatness, no false assumption of humility. His manner was what beauty is to the landscape, what the sublime, majestic repose of the ocean is to the ocean's greatness. His manner ever reflected the moral grandeur of His being. 2. The originality of His methods. 3. The grandeur and claims of His doctrines. 4. The authority with which He spoke. 5. The adaptation of style and matter to the people. 6. His profound earnestness. 7. His scathing denunciation of the hypocrisy of the ruling sects. II. THE EFFORTS OF THE SCRIBES AND PHARISEES TO UNDO THIS INFLUENCE. Not because they loved men, but because of caste, of pride, and cold-hearted selfishness. III. CHRIST'S MANNER OF MEETING THIS OPPOSITION. He takes every opportunity to overcome their prejudice, and enlighten their minds, seeking to impress upon them the superior glories of the new disport. sation. ( W. E. McKay. )

Benson Commentary Luke 15:1 Then drew near unto him all the publicans and sinners for to hear him. Luke 15:1 . Then drew near unto him all the publicans and sinners — That is, some of all the different classes of publicans, or all those of that place, and some other notorious sinners; for to hear him — Being influenced to do so through the condescension and kindness which he manifested toward all descriptions of persons, the most abandoned not excepted. Some suppose they came by a particular appointment from all the neighbouring parts. But as Luke goes on in the story, without any intimation of a change, either in the time or the scene of it, it is most probable that these discourses were delivered the same day that Christ dined with the Pharisee, which, being the sabbath day, would give the publicans, who on other days were employed in their office, a more convenient opportunity of attending. And the Pharisees and scribes murmured, &c. — Thinking this behaviour of our Lord inconsistent with the sanctity of a prophet, they were much displeased with him for it, and murmured at that charitable condescension, which ought rather to have given them joy. Luke 15:2 And the Pharisees and scribes murmured, saying, This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them. Luke 15:2-7 . And he spake this parable — That he might justify his conversing freely with sinners, in order to their reformation and salvation, he spake the parable of the lost sheep, which he had delivered once before, and also two other parables, which all declare, in direct contrariety to the Pharisees and scribes, in what manner God receiveth sinners. What man having a hundred sheep, &c. — See note on Matthew 18:12-15 . Doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness — Where they used to feed. All uncultivated ground, like our commons, was by the Jews termed wilderness, or desert, in distinction from arable and enclosed land: and go after that which is lost — In recovering a lost soul, Christ, as it were, labours. May we not learn from hence, that to let them alone, who are in sin, is both unchristian and inhuman? And when he hath found it — After a long and tedious search, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing, as a man in such circumstances naturally would. And calleth together his friends and neighbours — Who had been informed of his loss, and grieved on account of it: saying, Rejoice — With me, for my labour and search have not been in vain; I have found my sheep which was lost — To my great joy, especially as I was ready to despair of finding it. Likewise joy shall be in heaven — First, in our blessed Lord himself, and then among the angels of God, and the spirits of just men, perhaps informed thereof by God himself, or by the angels who ministered to them; over one sinner — Over one gross, open, notorious sinner; that repenteth — That is thoroughly changed in heart and life; more than over ninety and nine just — ???????? , righteous persons, who need no repentance — No such universal change of mind and character, having been the subjects of it in their childhood or youth. It cannot, as Dr. Doddridge justly observes, be our Lord’s meaning here, that God esteems one penitent sinner more than ninety and nine confirmed and established saints; (who are, undoubtedly, the persons spoken of as needing no repentance, or no universal change of heart and life, in which sense the word ???????? is commonly used;) for it would be inconsistent with the divine wisdom, goodness, and holiness to suppose this. But it is plainly as if he had said, “As a father peculiarly rejoices when an extravagant child, supposed to be utterly lost, is brought to a thorough sense of his duty, and is effectually reformed; or, as any other person who has recovered what he had given up for gone, has a more sensible satisfaction in it than in several other things equally valuable, but not in such danger: so do the holy inhabitants of heaven rejoice in the conversion of the most abandoned sinners. Yea, and God himself so readily forgives and receives them, that he may be represented as having part in the joy.” It must be observed, however, that, as the design of the parable is to represent divine things by images taken from the manners of men, what is here said must be understood as spoken with allusion to human passions, which are much more sensibly affected with the obtaining of what was long and vehemently desired, or with the gaining of that which was looked upon as lost, than with the continuance of the good long enjoyed. And when such passions are ascribed to God, they are to be taken in a figurative sense, entirely exclusive of those sensations which result from the commotions of animal nature in ourselves. Luke 15:3 And he spake this parable unto them, saying, Luke 15:4 What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it? Luke 15:5 And when he hath found it , he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing. Luke 15:6 And when he cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neighbours, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost. Luke 15:7 I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance. Luke 15:8 Either what woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one piece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it ? Luke 15:8-10 . Either what woman — As if he had said, To illustrate the matter by another obvious similitude, that it may yet more powerfully strike your minds, what woman, having ten pieces of silver — Though each of them but of the value of a drachma; or about seven pence halfpenny, and the whole only about six shillings three pence sterling money: if she lose one piece — Out of her little stock; doth not light a candle, &c. — Will not immediately make search for it, and take all possible pains to find it. And when she hath found it, calleth her female friends — To acquaint them with her good success, concluding it will be agreeable news to them. It might seem hardly worth while to ask the congratulation of her friends on so small an occasion as finding a drachma; but it is represented as the tenth part of her little stock, and the impressible and social temper of the sex may, perhaps, be considered as adding some propriety to the representation. Likewise, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God, &c. — We may conclude from hence, that, at least in some extraordinary cases, the angels are, either by immediate revelation, or otherwise, informed of the conversion of sinners, which must, to those benevolent spirits, be an occasion of joy; nor could any thing have been suggested more proper to encourage the humble penitent, to expose the repining Pharisee, or to animate all to zeal in so good a work, as endeavouring to promote the repentance and conversion of others. Indeed this part of both these parables is finely imagined. The angels, though high in nature, and perfect in blessedness, are represented as bearing a friendly regard to, and as having exact knowledge of, many things done here below. Thus, from men’s conduct in the common affairs of life, described in these parables, Christ proves it to be the general sense of mankind, that every sinner should be sought after by the teachers of religion. For, as men are so moved with the loss of any part of their property, that they seem to neglect what remains while they are employed in endeavouring to recover what happens to be missing; and, when they have found it, are so overjoyed, that, calling their friends, to whom they had given an account of their misfortune, they tell them the good news, that they may rejoice with them; so the servants of God should labour with the greatest solicitude to recover whatever part of his property is lost, namely, his reasonable creatures, who, having strayed from him, are in danger of perishing eternally. And they have powerful encouragement to do so, as the reformation of a single sinner occasions more joy in heaven than the steadfastness of ninety and nine righteous persons. By this circumstance, likewise, he insinuated that the Pharisees, who pretended to more holiness than others, instead of repining at his conversing with, and instructing sinners, ought to have imitated the example of the heavenly beings, and to have rejoiced to find these men delighted with his company and discourses, who enjoined them a much stricter life than they hitherto had been used to, inasmuch as this was a certain token of their repentance, and seemed to promise a speedy and thorough reformation. The drift of both parables is to show, that the conversion of sinners is a thing highly acceptable to God, and, consequently, that whatever is necessary thereto is so far from being inconsistent with goodness, that it is the very perfection and excellence of it. Daniel 12:3 . Luke 15:9 And when she hath found it , she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost. Luke 15:10 Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth. Luke 15:11 And he said, A certain man had two sons: Luke 15:11-12 . And he said, &c. — Christ delivered next the parable of the lost or prodigal son: “which of all his parables,” says Dr. Macknight, “is the most delightful, not only as it enforces a doctrine incomparably joyous, but because it abounds with the tender passions, is finely painted with the most beautiful images, and is to the mind what a charming and diversified landscape is to the eye.” In this parable our Lord pursues the same design as in the two preceding ones: namely, that of vindicating himself in conversing with publicans and sinners, of reproving the envy of the Pharisees, and of encouraging every sincere penitent, by moving representations of the divine mercy. A certain man had two sons — Now grown up to manhood; and the younger of them — Fondly conceited of his own capacity to manage his affairs, and impatient of the restraint he lay under in his father’s house; said to his father, Give me the portion of goods that falleth to me — As I am now come to years of discretion, I desire thou wouldst give into mine own hands that portion of thine estate, which, according to an equitable distribution, falls to my share. See here, reader, the root of all sin, a desire of disposing of ourselves independently of God! And he divided unto them his living — Gave them his chief stock of money, reserving the house and estate in his own hands. “It is plain no significant sense can be put on this circumstance of the parable, as referring to the dispensations of God to his creatures. It is one of those many ornamental circumstances which it would be weakness over-rigorously to accommodate to the general design.” — Doddridge. Luke 15:12 And the younger of them said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me . And he divided unto them his living. Luke 15:13 And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living. Luke 15:13-16 . And not many days after, the younger son gathered all together — Having gotten possession of his fortune, he lost no time, but, gathering together all he had, took his journey into a far country — That he might be wholly from under the eye of his parent, who was a person of great piety, and be freed from the restraints of religion, he went into a distant land, among the heathen, ( Luke 15:15 ,) where was neither the knowledge nor worship of God, choosing such companions as were most agreeable to his vicious inclinations, and, connected with these, he wallowed in unbounded riot and debauchery. Thus sinners, through a spirit of infidelity, independence of God, pride, self-conceit, and the love of pleasure, soon go far from God, far from his favour and image; far from the fear and love of him, and all design and desire of pleasing him: and in this state of alienation and distance from him, employ to his dishonour the time and talents he had intrusted them with, to be used for his glory, ?????? ?????? , living intemperately, imprudently, foolishly, as the word implies, not considering that God will call them to an account for their abuse of his gifts. And when he had spent all — When this wretched course of intemperance, riot, and folly had clouded his understanding, weakened his memory, vitiated his affections, brought infirmity and disease upon his body, and he had squandered away the whole property he had received of his father, it so happened, through the righteous judgment of God upon him, that there arose a mighty famine in that land — Where he sojourned; and he began to be in want — Of the very necessaries of life. Observe, reader, in that country which is far from God; in that state of heart and life, in which men are alienated from the knowledge and love of him, and shut out from all intercourse with him, they will ere long find a mighty famine arising, and will be in extreme want of every thing calculated to make them happy. And went and joined himself to a citizen of that country — Finding no shelter or relief among those who had been his associates in vice, and had shared in the spoils of his substance; and yet being unable to brook the mortification of returning home in such circumstances; to keep himself from starving in the famine, he went still farther into the country, that was far from his father’s house, and submitted to accept the most disgraceful employment that a Jew could be engaged in; he hired himself to a person, who, thinking such a worthless creature unfit for any better post, sent him into his fields to feed swine, an employment to which, however mean and disagreeable, this unhappy youth, who had once lived in so much plenty and splendour, was forced to submit. Thus sinners, by wandering far from God, into the ways of vice and misery, join themselves to Satan and his servants, the genuine citizens of that country which is far from God, where they are employed in ministering to the lusts and pleasures of others, that is, in feeding the devil’s swine. And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks, &c. — The wages he earned by this ignominious service were not sufficient, in a time of such great scarcity, to purchase him as much food of any kind as would satisfy the cravings of his appetite. Being half starved, therefore, he often looked on the swine with envy as they were feeding, and wished that he could have filled his belly with the husks which they devoured; a circumstance this, which beautifully and forcibly shows the extremity of his misery. And no man gave unto him — There was none that took so much pity upon him as to give him one morsel of food; so sparing did the famine make them, and so much did every one despise this foolish and scandalous prodigal. Thus sinners would fain satisfy themselves with carnal pleasures and worldly comforts, the husks which the swine eat, but the endeavour is vain and fruitless, for the enjoyment of no creature can give true happiness to the intelligent and immortal mind of man, formed and designed to find it in God only. Luke 15:14 And when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land; and he began to be in want. Luke 15:15 And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. Luke 15:16 And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat: and no man gave unto him. Luke 15:17 And when he came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my father's have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! Luke 15:17-18 . And when he came to himself — When the infamy and distress of his present condition began to lead him into serious consideration; and he so far recovered the use of his reason, which had before been dethroned and extinguished by the mad intoxication of sensual pleasure; when the great distress he was in brought him at length to think and reflect on his unhappy condition, and to retrace the steps that had brought him into it; he said — Namely, in his heart; How many hired servants of my father’s — The meanest in his family, the very day- labourers; have bread enough and to spare — Have more meat than they can use. Even the hired servants in God’s house are well provided for; the meanest that will but hire themselves into his family to do his work, and depend upon his reward, shall have all things and abound: the consideration of which should encourage sinners, that have gone astray from God, to think of returning to him: and I perish with hunger — I, his child, who have known so many better days, am even ready to die with want, not being thought worth my food by this unkind master, to whom I have hired myself. Observe, reader, 1st, All who have wandered from God, and endeavour to satisfy themselves with earthly things, whether riches, honours, or pleasures, with worldly pursuits and carnal gratifications, living without God in the world, may really be said to be beside themselves, for they act like persons deprived of their reason. Observe, 2d, Sinners will not come to Christ, and enter into his service, till they are brought to see themselves just ready to perish in the service of sin. And though we be thus driven to Christ, he will not therefore reject us, nor think himself dishonoured by our being forced to him, but rather honoured by his being applied to in a desperate case. I will arise and go to my father — Whatever be the consequence, I am resolved that I will no longer remain in this miserable condition, but will immediately set out on my way home, if all my little remaining strength can but bring me to the end of such a journey. And I will say unto him, Father, I have sinned, &c. — That I may be received again, I am resolved to go in all humility, and confess my crimes to my father, acknowledging that I am utterly unworthy to be owned as a son, and will pray to be taken into his house, only as a hired servant, and will be contented for the future to labour and fare as the servants do, so I may but live in his sight. In saying, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, he meant, that God was injured in the person of his earthly father. And certainly nature itself teaches this, that whoever is insolent or disrespectful to his parents, rebels against God; who, by making them the instruments of communicating life to their children, has imparted to them some of his own paternal honour. In saying, I am no more worthy to be called thy son, he shows, that the idea of his undutiful behaviour was strongly impressed on his mind, whereby he was sensible that he had no title to be treated at home as a son. At the same time he knew that it never would be well with him till he was in his father’s family again; so with joy he entertained the thought of occupying the meanest station in it. Thus, while the liberality of the great Parent of men makes them wantonly run away from his family, the miseries which they involve themselves in, often constrain them to return. By the natural consequences of sin, God sometimes makes sinners to feel, that there is no felicity to be found anywhere but in himself. Luke 15:18 I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, Luke 15:19 And am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants. Luke 15:20 And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. Luke 15:20 . And he arose and came to his father — Having taken the resolution of returning to his father, he put it immediately in execution; setting out just as he was, barefooted, and all in rags, and being obliged, doubtless, to beg his way. But did his father receive him? Was he welcome? Yes, heartily welcome. And, by the way, we have here an example, instructing parents, whose children have been foolish and disobedient, if they repent and submit themselves, not to be harsh and severe with them; but to be governed, in such a case, by the wisdom that is from above, which is gentle and easy to be entreated. Herein let them be followers of God, and merciful as he is. The passage, however, is chiefly designed to set forth the grace and mercy of God to poor sinners, that repent and return to him, and his readiness to forgive them. But when he was yet a great way off — Having only come within sight of home, and his nakedness, and the consciousness of his folly, probably, making him ashamed to proceed further, his father — Happening to be looking that way; saw him — Before any of the rest of his family were aware of the circumstance; and had compassion — ???????????? , his bowels yearned, to observe the wretched condition he was in; and immediately, as if he had forgotten the dignity of his own character, and all the injuries he had received, he ran to his child, and fell on his neck and kissed him. The son advanced diffidently and slowly, under a burden of shame and fear; but the father ran to meet him with his encouragements. This shows our heavenly Father’s desire of the conversion of sinners, and his readiness to meet them that are coming toward him. His eyes are on those that go astray from him, he is continually looking to see whether they will return to him, and marks and cherishes the first inclinations which they manifest so to do. Luke 15:21 And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son. Luke 15:21 . And the son said — The perturbation which the aged parent was in, with ecstasy of joy, hindered him from speaking; so the poor, ragged, meager creature, locked in his arms, began and made his acknowledgments with a tone of voice expressive of the deepest contrition. Father, I have sinned against heaven, &c. — As it commends the good father’s kindness, that he showed it before the prodigal expressed his repentance; so it commends the prodigal’s repentance, that he expressed it after his father had showed him so much love. When he had received the kiss, which sealed his pardon, yet he said, in a spirit of deep contrition, Father, I have sinned. Observe, reader, even those who have received the pardon of their sins, and the comfortable sense of their pardon, yet must have in their hearts a sincere sorrow for them, and with their mouths must make a penitent confession of them, even for those sins which they have reason to hope are pardoned. David wrote the fifty-first Psalm after Nathan had said, The Lord hath taken away thy sin: thou shalt not die. Nay, a comfortable sense of the pardon of sin should increase our sorrow for it; and that is ingenuous, evangelical sorrow, which is increased by such a consideration. Thus Ezekiel 16:61 ; Ezekiel 16:63 , Thou shalt be ashamed and confounded when I am pacified toward thee. The more we see of God’s readiness to forgive us, the more difficult it should be to us to forgive ourselves. The son was going on with his confession and submission, but the father, grieved to see him in that miserable plight, interrupted him, and prevented his proceeding, by ordering his servants, some to bring out the best robe immediately, and a ring and shoes, that he might be clothed in a manner becoming his son; and others, to go and kill a fatted calf, that they might eat and rejoice, and all this without one word of rebuke. This kind treatment was far beyond what the prodigal did or could expect: he came home between hope and fear, fear of being rejected, and hope of being received; but his father was not only better to him than his fears, but better to him than his hopes; not only received him, but received him with respect. He came home in rags, and his father not only clothed but adorned him, putting on him, ??? ?????? ??? ?????? , the first, best, or principal robe, the garment laid by, and used only on festival occasions; and a ring on his hand — As a further token of his welcome reception into the family, and of his father’s love and regard. He returned barefoot, and with feet doubtless sore with travelling; but his father provided him with proper shoes, to render him easy and comfortable. He came faint and hungry; and his father not only fed but feasted him, and that with the best provision he had. Thus, for true penitents, who return to their duty, and cast themselves upon the divine mercy in Christ, God doth exceedingly above what they could have dared to ask or think. He clothes them when naked with the robe of righteousness, the garment of salvation, justifies their persons through faith in him who is the Lord their righteousness, and regenerates and sanctifies their nature by his saving grace, restoring them to his blessed image and likeness. And, as a token of their adoption into his family, sends into their hearts the Spirit of his Son, crying, Abba, Father, and sealing them to the day of redemption, signified by the ring put on the prodigal’s hand. Their feet also are shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace, that they may proceed forward with ease and comfort through the journey of life, however rough the road may be in which they have to travel: in other words, through faith in the gospel, and its encouraging declarations and promises, they obtain that peace and tranquillity of mind, that resignation, patience, and contentment, which enables them to persevere in the way of duty, whatever trials they may meet with therein: and they are fed with the bread of life, nay, feasted with the rich and abundant consolations of the gospel: while the whole family of God rejoices at their return to their heavenly Father’s house. Thus the father of the prodigal exhorts, Let us eat and be merry — Greek, ??? ???????? ??????????? , eating, let us rejoice, or be cheerful. The English word, merry, both here and wherever else it occurs, whether in the Old or New Testament, implies nothing of levity, but a solid, serious, religious, heart-felt joy: indeed, this was the ordinary meaning of the word two hundred years ago, when our translation was made. Luke 15:22 But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet: Luke 15:23 And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it ; and let us eat, and be merry: Luke 15:24 For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry. Luke 15:24 . For this my son was dead — Was considered by me as dead; and is alive again — “It is by a very common and beautiful emblem, that vicious persons are represented as dead, both by sacred and profane authors; and the natural death of their children would be less grievous to pious parents than to see them abandoned to such a course as this young sinner took.” — Doddridge. He was lost and is found — We looked upon him as utterly lost, but lo! he is come back again, beyond all expectation, in safety. Two things here are worthy of observation: 1st, That the conversion of a soul from sin to God is the raising of that soul from death to life, and the finding of that which seemed to be lost. It is a great, wonderful, and happy change: it is like that which passes upon the face of the earth when the spring returns. 2d, The conversion of sinners is very pleasing to the God of heaven, and all that belong to his family ought to rejoice in it. Those in heaven do, and those on earth should, rejoice. And they began to be merry — They sat down to the feast, rejoicing exceedingly at the happy occasion of it. Luke 15:25 Now his elder son was in the field: and as he came and drew nigh to the house, he heard musick and dancing. Luke 15:25-28 . Now his older son was in the field — The older son seems to represent the Pharisees and scribes mentioned Luke 15:2 . And now while every one in the family heartily joined in expressing their joy on account of the safe return of the second son, the older brother, happening to come from the field, heard the noise of singing and dancing within; wherefore, calling out one of the servants, he asked what these things meant. The servant replied, that his brother was unexpectedly come, and that his father, being very glad to see him, had killed the fatted calf, and was making a feast, because he had received him safe and sound. The servant probably mentions the killing of the fatted calf rather than the robe or ring, as having a nearer connection with the music and dancing. When the older brother heard this, he fell into a violent passion, and would not go in; the servant therefore came and told his father of it. The father rising up, went out and with incomparable goodness, entreated his son to come and partake in the general joy in the family on account of his brother’s return. This act of condescension gives a great heightening to the character of the father, and adds an inexpressible beauty and elegance to the parable; and when we consider it as referring to the love and condescension of our Almighty Father, it must certainly be very consolatory to our souls. Luke 15:26 And he called one of the servants, and asked what these things meant. Luke 15:27 And he said unto him, Thy brother is come; and thy father hath killed the fatted calf, because he hath received him safe and sound. Luke 15:28 And he was angry, and would not go in: therefore came his father out, and intreated him. Luke 15:29 And he answering said to his father, Lo, these many years do I serve thee, neither transgressed I at any time thy commandment: and yet thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends: Luke 15:29-30 . But he answering, said to his father — The kindness and respect which his father showed him on this occasion, did not soften him in the least. He stubbornly persisted in his anger, and answered the affectionate speeches of his parent with nothing but loud and haughty accusations of his conduct. These many years do I serve thee, neither transgressed I at any time — This branch of the parable is finely contrived to express the high opinion which the Pharisees, here represented by the elder brother, entertained of their own righteousness and merit. Yet thou never gavest me a kid, &c. — Perhaps God does not usually give much consolation to those who never felt the deep sorrows of repentance. But as soon as this thy son was come — The ungracious youth disdained to call him his brother, and at the same time insolently insinuated, that his father seemed to despise all his other children, and to reckon this prodigal only his son; which hath devoured thy living with harlots — Hath wasted thy property in a long course of scandalous debaucheries, to his own ruin, and the infamy of the family. Thou hast killed for him the fatted calf — And made him as welcome as if he had been the most dutiful child upon earth. And he said — With great gentleness, when he might have taken offence at his son’s unbecoming reply, Son, thou art ever with me — And art every day receiving some token of my kindness. By calling him his son, after the insolent speech he had made, the father insinuated, that he acknowledged him likewise for his son, and that neither the undutifulness of the one, nor the frowardness of the other of his children, had extinguished his affection, or cancelled the relation subsisting between them. All that I have is thine — As thou hast formerly lived in my family, and hast had the command of my property, as far as thy exigencies required; so thou art at present heir to the bulk of my estate. This is a material intimation, and suggests a strong reason against murmuring at the indulgence shown to the greatest sinners. As the father’s receiving the youngest son did not cause him to disinherit the elder, so God’s receiving notorious sinners will be no loss to those who have always served him: neither will he raise these to a state of glory equal to that of those who have always served him, if they have, upon the whole, made a greater progress in inward as well as outward holiness. Luke 15:30 But as soon as this thy son was come, which hath devoured thy living with harlots, thou hast killed for him the fatted calf. Luke 15:31 And he said unto him, Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. Luke 15:32 It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost,

Expositor's Bible Commentary Luke 15:1 Then drew near unto him all the publicans and sinners for to hear him. Chapter 21 LOST AND FOUND . IN this chapter we see how the waves of influence, moving outward from their Divine center, touch the outermost fringe of humanity, sending the pulsations of new excitements and new hopes through classes Religion and Society both had banned. "Now all the publicans and sinners were drawing near unto Him, for to hear Him." It was evidently a movement widespread and deep. The hostility of Pharisees and scribes would naturally give to these outcasts a certain bias in His favor, causing their hearts to lean towards Him, while His words of hope fell upon their lives like the breaking of a new dawn. Nor did Jesus forbid their approach. Instead of looking upon it as an intrusion, an impertinence, the attraction was mutual. Instead of receiving them with a cold and scant courtesy, He welcomed them, receiving them gladly, as the verb of the Pharisees’ murmur implies. He even mingled with them in social intercourse, with an acceptance, if not an interchange, of hospitality. To the Pharasaic mind, however, this was a flagrant lapse, a breach of the proprieties which was unpardonable and half criminal, and they gave vent to their disapprobation and disgust in the loud and scornful murmur, "This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them." It is from this hard sentence of withering contempt, as from a prickly and bitter calyx, we have the trifoliate parables of the Lost Sheep, the Lost Coin, and the Lost Man, the last of which is perhaps the crown and flower of all the parables. With minor differences, the three parables are really one, emphasizing, as they reiterate, the one truth how Heaven seeks after the lost of earth, and how it rejoices when the lost is found. The first parable is pastoral: "What man of you," asks Jesus, using the Tu quoque retort, "having a hundred sheep, and having lost one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it?" It is one of those questions which only need to be asked to be answered, an interrogative which is axiomatic and self-evident. Jesus tries to set his detractors in His place, that they may think His thoughts, feel His feelings, as they look out on the world from His standpoint; but since they cannot follow Him to these redemptive heights, He comes down to the lower level of their vision. "Suppose you have a hundred sheep, and one of them, getting separated from the rest, goes astray, what do you do? Dismissing it from your thought, do you leave it to its fate, the certain slaughter that awaits it from the wild beasts? or do you seek to minimize your loss, working it out by the rule of proportion as you ask, ‘What is one to ninety-nine?’ then writing off the lost one, not as a unit, but as a common fraction? No; such a supposition is incredible and impossible. You would go in search of the lost directly. Turning your back upon the ninety and nine, and turning your thoughts from them too, you would leave them in their mountain pasture, as you sought the lost one. Calling it by its name, you would climb the terraced hills, and awake the echoes of the wadies, until the flinty heart of the mountain had felt the sympathy of your sorrow, repeating with you the lost wanderer’s name. And when at last you found it you would not chide or punish it; you would not even force it to retrace its steps across the weary distance, but taking compassion on its weakness, you would lift it upon your shoulders and bear it rejoicing home. Then forgetful of your own weariness, fatigue and anxiety swallowed up in the new-found joy, you would go round to your neighbors, to break the good news to them, and so all would rejoice together." Such is the picture, warm in color and instinct with life, Jesus sketches in a few well-chosen words. He delicately conceals all reference to Himself; but even the chromatic vision of the Pharisees would plainly perceive how complete was its justification of His own conduct, in mingling thus with the erring and the lost; while to us the parable is but a veil of words, through which we discern the form and features of the "Good Shepherd," who gave even His life for the sheep, seeking that He might save that which was lost. The second, which is a twin parable, is from domestic life. As in the parables of the kingdom, Jesus sets beside the man with the mustard seed the woman with her leaven, so here He makes the same distinction, clothing the Truth both in a masculine and a feminine dress. He asks again, "Or what woman" (He does not say "of you," for if women were present amongst His hearers they would be in the background) "having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one piece, doth not light a lamp, and sweep the house, and seek diligently until she find it? And when she hath found it, she calleth together her friends and neighbors, saying, Rejoice with me, for I have found the piece which I had lost." Much objection has been taken to this parable for its supposed want of naturalness and reality. "Is it likely," our objectors say, "that the loss of a small coin like a drachma, whose value was about sevenpence-halfpenny, could be the occasion of so much concern, and that its recovery should be enough to call forth the congratulations of all the village matrons? Surely that is not parable, but hyperbole." But things have a real as well as an intrinsic value, and what to others would be common and cheap, to its possessor might be a treasure beyond reckoning, with all the added values of association and sentiment. So the ten drachmas of the woman might have a history; they might have been a family heirloom, moving quietly down the generations, with whole poems, aye, and even tragedies hidden within them. Or we can conceive of a poverty so dire and strait that even one small coin in the emergent circumstance might grow into a value far beyond its intrinsic worth. But the parable does not need all these suppositions to steady it and keep it from falling to the ground. When rightly understood it becomes singularly natural, the truth of truth, if such an essence can be distilled in human speech. The probable interpretation is that the ten drachmas were the ten coins worn as a frontlet by the women of the East. This frontlet was given by the bridegroom to the bride at the time of marriage, and like the ring of Western life, it was invested with a kind of sanctity. It must be worn on all public occasions, and guarded with a jealous, sacred care; for should one of its pieces be lost, it would be regarded as an indication that the possessor had not only been careless, but also that she had been unfaithful to her marriage vow. Throwing, then, this light of Eastern custom upon the parable, how vivid and lifelike it becomes! With what intense eagerness would she seek for the missing coin! Lighting her lamp-for the house would be but dimly lighted with its open door and its small unglazed window-how carefully and almost tremblingly she would peer along its shelves, and sweep out the corners of her few rooms! And how great would be her joy as she saw it glistening in the dust! Her whole soul would go out after it, as if it were a living, sentient thing. She would clasp it in her hand, and even press it to her lips; for has it not taken a heavy care and sorrow from her heart? That one coin rising from the dust has been to her like the rising of another sun, filling her home with light and her life with melody; and what wonder that she hastens to communicate her joy, as, standing by her door, after the eastern wont, she holds up the missing treasure, and calls on her neighbors and friends (the substantives are feminine now) to rejoice with her. The third parable carries the thought still higher, forming the crown of the ascending series. Not only is there a mathematical progression, as the lost fraction increases from one-hundreth to one-tenth, and then to one-half of the whole, but the intrinsic value of the loss rises in a corresponding series. In the first it was a lost sheep, a loss which might soon be replaced, and which would soon be forgotten; in the second it was a lost coin, which, as we have seen, meant the loss of what was more valuable than gold, even honor and character; while in the third it is a lost child. We call it the parable of the Prodigal Son; it might with equal propriety be called the Parable of the Bereaved Father, for the whole story crystallizes about that name, repeating it, in one form or another, no less than twelve times. "A certain man," so begins this parabolic "Paternoster," "had two sons." Tired of the restraints of home and the surveillance of the father’s eye, the younger of them determined to see the world for himself, in order, as the sequel shows, that he might have a free hand, and give loose reins to his passions. With a cold, impertinent bluntness, he says to the father, whose death he thus anticipates, "Father, give me the portion of thy substance that falleth to me," a command whose sharp, imperative tone shows but too plainly the proud, masterful spirit of the youth. He respects neither age nor law; for though the paternal estate could be divided during the father’s life, no son, much less the younger, had any right to demand it. The father grants the request, dividing "unto them," as it reads, "his living"; for the same line which marks off the portion of the younger marks out too that of the elder son, though he holds his portion as yet only in promise. Not many days after-for having found its wings, the foolish bird is in haste to fly-the youth gathers all together, and then takes his journey into a far country. The down grades of life are generally steep and short, and so one sentence is enough to describe this decensus Averni , down which the youth plunges so insanely: "He wasted his substance with riotous living," scattering it, as the verb means, throwing it away after low, illicit pleasures. "And when he had spent all"-the "all" he had scrambled for and gathered a short while before-"there arose a mighty famine in that country; and he began to be in want"; and so great were his straits, so remorseless the pangs of hunger, that he was glad to attach himself to a citizen of that country as swineherd, living out in the fields with his drove, like the swineherds of Gadara. But such was the pressure of the famine that his mere pittance could not cope with famine prices, and again and again he hungered to have his fill of the carob-pods, which were dealt out statedly and sparingly to the swine. But no man gave even these to him he was forgotten as one already dead. Such is the picture Jesus draws of the lost man, a picture of abject misery and degradation. When the sheep wandered it strayed unwittingly, blindly, getting farther from its fellows and its fold even when bleating vainly for them. When the drachma was lost it did not lose itself, nor had it any consciousness that it had dropped out of its proper environment. But in the case of the lost man it was altogether different. Here it is a willful perversity, which breaks through the restraints of home, tramples upon its endearments, and throws up a blighted life, scarred and pealed amid the husks and swine of a far country. And it is this element of perversity, self-will, which explains, as indeed it necessitates, another marked difference in the parables. When the sheep and the drachma were lost there was an eager search, as the shepherd followed the wanderer over the mountain gullies, and the woman with broom and lamp went after the lost coin. But when the youth is lost, flinging himself away, the father does not follow him, except in thought, and love, and prayer. He sits "still in the house," nursing a bitter grief, and the work on the farm goes on just as usual, for the service of the younger brother would probably be not much missed. And why does not the father summon his servants, bidding them go after the lost child, bringing him home, if necessary, by force? Simply because such a finding would be no finding. They might indeed carry the wanderer home, setting down his feet by the familiar door; but of what use is that if his heart is still wayward and his will rebellious? Home would not be home to him and with his heart in the far country, he would walk even in his father’s fields and in his father’s house as an alien, a foreigner. And so all embassies, all messages would be in vain; and even a father’s love can do no more than wait, patiently and prayerfully, in hopes that a better spirit may yet come over him, and that some rebound of feeling may bring him home, a humbled penitent. The change comes at length, and the slow morning dawns. When the photographer wishes to develop the picture that is hidden in the film of the sensitive plate he carries it to a darkened room, and bathed in the developing solution the latent image gradually appears, even to the minutest details. It was so here; for when in his extremest need, with the pinch of a fearful hunger upon him, and the felt darkness of a painful isolation surrounding him, there came into the prodigal’s soul a sweet picture of the far-away home, the home which might still have been his but for his wantonness, but which is his now only in memory. It is true his first thoughts of that home were not very lofty; they only crouched with the dogs under the father’s table, or hovered around the plentiful board of the servants, attracted by the "bread enough and to spare." But such is the natural association of ideas; the carob-pods of the swine naturally suggest the bread of the servants, while this in turn opens up all the chambers of the father’s house, reviving its half-faded images of happiness and love, and awaking all the sweet memories that sin had stifled and silenced. That it was so here, the lower leading up to the higher thought, is evident from the young man’s soliloquy: "I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven and in thy sight; I am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants." The hunger for the servants’ bread is all forgotten now, swallowed up in the hunger of the soul, as it pines for the father’s presence and for the father’s smile, longing for the lost Eden. The very name "father" strikes with a strange music upon his awakened and penitent soul, making him for the time half-oblivious to his present wretchedness; and as Memory recalls a bright but vanished past, Hope peoples the dark sky with a heavenly host, who sing a new Advent, the dawn of a heavenly day. An Advent? Perhaps it was an Easter rather, with a "resurrection from earth to things above," an Easter whose anthem, in songs without end, was, "I will arise and go to my father," that Resurgam of a new and holier life. No sooner is the "I will" spoken than there is a reversing of all the wheels. The hands follow whither the heart has gone; the feet shake off the dust of the far country, retracing the steps they measured so foolishly and lightly before; while the eyes, washed by their bitter tears- "Not backward are their glances bent But onward to the Father’s house." "And he arose and came to his father." He came to himself first; and having found that better self, he became conscious of the void he had not felt before. For the first time he realizes how much the father is to him, and how terrible the bereavement and loss he inflicted upon himself when be put between that father and himself the desert of an awful distance. And as the bright memories of other days flash up within his soul, like the converging rays of a borealis, they all turn towards and center in the father. Servants, home, and loaves of bread alike speak of him whose very shadow is brightness to the self-orphaned child. He yearns for the father’s presence with a strange and intense yearning; and could that presence be his again; even if he were nothing more than a servant, with but casual interviews, hearing his voice but in its commanding tones, he would be content and happy. And so he comes and seeks the father; will the father-relent and receive him? Can he overlook and forgive the waywardness and wantonness which have embittered his old age? Can he receive him back even as a servant, a child who has scorned his authority, slighted his love, and squandered his substance in riotous living? Does the father say, "He has made his own bed, and he must lie upon it; he has had his portion, even to the swept-up crumbs, and there is nothing left for him now?" No, for there is something left, a treasure which he might scorn, indeed, but which he could not throw away, even a heritage of love. And what a picture the parable draws of the love that "hopeth and endureth all things! But while he was yet afar off, his father saw him, and was moved with compassion and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him." As the moon in her revolutions lifts up the tides, drawing the deep oceans to herself, so do the unsounded depths of the father’s heart turn towards the prodigal whose life has set, dropping out of sight behind wildernesses of darkness. Thought, prayer, pity, compassion, love flow out towards the attraction they can no longer see. Nay, it seems as if the father’s vision were transfixed, riveted to the spot where the form of his erring lad vanished out of sight; for no sooner has the youth come within sight of the home than the father’s eyes, made telescopic with love, discern him, and as if by intuition, recognize him, even though his attire be mean and tattered, and his step has no longer the lightness of innocence nor the firmness of integrity. It is, it is his child, the erring but now repenting child, and the pent-up emotions of the father’s soul rush out as in a tumultuous freshet to meet him. He even "ran" to meet him, all forgetful of the dignity of years, and throwing himself upon his neck, he kissed him, not either with the cold kiss of courtesy, but with the warm, fervent kiss of love, as the intensive prefix of the verb implies. So far this scene of reconciliation has been as a dumb show. The storm of emotion so interrupted the electric flow of quiet thought and speech that no word was spoken in the mutual embrace. When, however, the power of speech returns the youth is the first to break the silence. "Father," he said, repeating the words of his mental resolve when in the far country, "I have sinned against Heaven, and in thy sight: I am no more worthy to be called thy son." It is no longer the sense of physical need, but the deeper sense of guilt, that now presses upon his soul. The moral nature, which by the anodynes of sin had been thrown into a state of coma, awakes to a vivid consciousness, and in the new awakening, in the broadening light of the new dawn, he sees one thing only, and that is his sin, a sin which has thrown its blackness over the wasted years, which has embittered a father’s heart, and which cast its shadow even into heaven itself. Nor is it the conviction of sin only; there is a full and frank confession of it, with no attempt at palliation or excuse. He does not seek to gloss it over, but smiting his breast with bitter reproaches, he confesses his sin with "a humble, lowly, penitent, and obedient heart," hoping for the mercy and forgiveness he is conscious he does not deserve. Nor does he hope in vain. Even before the confession is completed, the absolution is spoken, virtually at least; for without allowing the youth to finish his sentence, in which he offers to renounce his sonship and to accept a menial position, the father calls to the servants, "Bring forth quickly, the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet: and bring the fatted calf, and kill it, and let us eat and make merry." In this peal of imperatives we detect the rapid beating of the father’s heart, the loving, eager haste to wipe out all the sad marks that sin has left. In the luminous atmosphere of the father’s love the youth is no more the prodigal; he is as one transfigured; and now that the chrysalis has left the mire, and crept up into the sunlight, it must have a dress befitting its new summer life, wings of gauze, and robes of rainbow hues. The best, or "the first robe" as it is in the Greek, must be brought out for him; a signet-ring, the pledge of authority, must be put upon his hand; shoes, the badge of freedom, must be found for the tired and bared feet; while for the merry-making which is extemporized, the domestic festa which is the crown of these rejoicings, the fatted calf, which was in reserve for some high festival, must be killed. And all this is spoken in a breath, in a sort of bewilderment, the ecstasy of an excessive joy; and forgetting that the simple command is enough for servants, the master must needs tell out his joy to them: "For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found." If the three parables were all through coincident, the Parable of the Prodigal Son should close at this point, the curtain dropping over the festive scene, where songs, and music, and the rhythm of the dance are the outward and weak expressions of the father’s joy over the son who comes back from the far country, as one alive from the dead. But Jesus has another purpose; He must not only plead the cause of the outcast and the low, setting open for them the door of mercy and of hope; He must also rebuke and silence the unreasoning murmur of the Pharisees and scribes-which He does in the picture of the Elder Brother. Coming from the field, the heir is surprised to find the whole house given up to an impromptu feast. He hears the sounds of merriment and music, but its strains fall strange and harsh upon his ear. What can it mean? Why was he not consulted? Why should his father thus take occasion of his absence in the fields to invite his friends and neighbors? The proud spirit chafes under the slight, and calling one of the servants, he asks what it all means. The answer is not reassuring, for it only perplexes and pains him the more: "thy brother is come; and thy father hath killed the fatted calf, because he hath received him safe and sound"-an answer which does but deepen his displeasure, turning his sullenness to anger. "And would not go in." They may end the feast, as they began it, without him. The festive joy is something foreign to his nature; it awakes but feelings of repulsion, and all its music is to him a grating discord, a "Miserere." But let us not be too severe upon the elder brother. He was not perfect, by any means, but in any appraisement of his character there are certain veinings of worth and nobleness that must not be omitted. We have already seen how, in the division of the father’s goods, when he divided unto them his living, while the younger took away his portion, and swiftly scattered it in riotous living, the elder brother took no advantage of the deed of gift. He did not dispossess the father, securing for himself the paternal estate. He put it back into his father’s hands, content with the filial relation of dependence and obedience. The father’s word was still his law. He was the dutiful son; and when he said, "These many years do I serve thee, and I never transgressed a commandment of thine," the boast was no exaggeration, but the statement of a simple truth. Compared with the life of the prodigal, the life of the elder brother had been consistent, conscientious, and moral. Where, then, was his failure, his lack? It was just here, in the lack of heart, the absence of affection. He bore the name of a son, but he carried the heart of a servant. His nature was servile, rather than filial; and while his hands offered a service unremitting and precise, it was the cold service of an impassive mechanism. Instead of love passing out in living heart-throbs, suffusing all the life with its warmth, and clothing it in its own iridescent coloring, it was only a metallic mainspring called "duty." The father’s presence is not the delight to him; he does not once mention that tender name in which the repenting one finds such a heaven; and when he draws the picture of his highest happiness, the feast of his earthly Walhalla, "my friends" are there, though the father is excluded. And so between the father and the elder brother, with all this seeming nearness, there was a distance of reserve, and where the voices of affection and of constant communion should have been heard there was too often a vacancy of silence. It takes a heart to read a heart; and since this was wanting in the elder brother, he could not know the heart of the father; he could not understand his wild joy. He had no patience with his younger brother; and had he received him back at all, it would have been with a haughty stiffness, and with a lowering in his looks, which should have been at once a rebuke for the past and a warning for the future. The father looked on his son’s repentance; the elder brother did not regard the repentance at all; perhaps he had not heard of it, or perhaps he could not understand it; it was something that lay out of the plane of his consciousness. He saw the sin only, how the younger son had devoured his living with harlots; and so he was severe, exacting, bitter. He would have brought out the sackcloth, but nothing more; while as to the music and the fatted calf, they would appear to his loveless soul as an absurd anachronism. But far removed as he is from the father’s spirit, he is still his son; and though the father rejoices more over the younger than over the elder, as was but natural, he loves them both with an equal love. He cannot bear that there should be any estrangement now; and he even leaves the festive throng, and the son he has welcomed and robed, and going out, he begs, he entreats the elder brother to pass in, and to throw himself into the general joy. And when the elder son complains that, with all his years of obedient, dutiful service, he has never had even a kid, much less a fatted calf, on which to feast his friends, the father says, lovingly, but chidingly, "Son" or "Child," rather, for it is a term of greater endearment than the "son" he had just used before-"thou art ever with me, and all that is mine is thine. But it was meet to make merry and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found." He plays upon the "child" as upon a harp, that he may drive away the evil spirits of jealousy and anger, and that even within the servant-heart he may awake some chords, if only the far-off echoes of a lost childhood. He reminds him how vastly different their two positions are. For him there has been no break in their intercourse; the father’s house has been his home; he has had the free range of all: to the younger that home has been nothing but a distant memory, with a waste of dreary years between. He has been heir and lord of all; and so completely have father and son been identified, their separate personalities merged the one in the other, that the possessive pronouns, the "mine" and the "thine," are used interchangeably. The younger returns penniless, disinherited by his own misdeed. Nay, he has been as one dead; for what was the far country but a vault of slimy things, the sepulcher of a dead soul? "And should we not make merry and be glad, when thy brother" (it is the antithesis to "thy son" of ver. 30 { Luke 15:30 }, a mutual "thy") "comes back to us as one raised from the dead?" Whether the father’s pleading prevailed, or not, we are not told. We can but hope it did, and that the elder brother, with his asperities all dissolved, and his jealousies removed, did pass within to share the general joy, and to embrace a lost brother. Then he too would know the sweetness of forgiveness, and taught by the erring but now forgiven one, he too would learn to spell out more correctly that deep word "father," the word he had stammered at, and perhaps misspelt before, as the fatherhood and the brotherhood became to him not ideas merely, but bright realities. Gathering up now the lessons of the parables, they show us (1) the Divine grief over sin. In the first two this is the prominent thought, the sorrow of the loser. God is represented as losing that which is of worth to Him, something serviceable, and therefore valuable. In the third parable the same idea is suggested rather than stated; but the thought is carried farther, for now it is more than a loss, it is a bereavement the father suffers. The retreating form of the wanderer throws back its shadow across the father’s home and heart, a shadow that congeals and stays, and that is darker than the shadow of Death itself. It is the Divine Grief, whose depths we cannot sound, and from whose mystery we must stand back, not one stone’s cast, but many. The parables show (2) the sad state of the sinner. In the case of the Lost Sheep and the Lost Coin we see his perfect helplessness to recover himself, and that he must remain lost, unless One higher than himself undertakes his cause, and "help is laid upon One that is mighty." It is the third parable, however, which especially emphasizes the downward course of sin and the deepening wretchedness of the sinner. The flowery path leads on to a valley of desolation. The way of transgressors is ever a downward path; and let an evil spirit possess a soul, it hurries him directly down the steep place, where, unless the flight be checked, a certain destruction awaits him. Sin degrades and isolates. Want, sorrow, penury, and pain are but a part of its viperous brood, and he who plays with sin, calling it freedom, will find his rod blossom with bitter fruit, or he will see it grow into a serpent with poison in its fangs. The parables show (3) God’s willingness and eagerness to save. The long and eager search after the lost sheep and the lost corn show, though but imperfectly, the supreme efforts God makes for man’s salvation. He is not left to wander unrebuked and unsought. There is no forbidden path along which men insanely rush, but some bright angel stands beside it, warning back the sinner, it may be with a drawn sword, some "terror of the Lord," or it may be with a cross, the sacrifice of an infinite love. Though He could send His armies to destroy, He sends His messengers to win us back to obedience and to love-Conscience, Memory, Reason, the Word, the Spirit, and even the well-beloved Son. Nor is the great search discontinued, until it has proved to be in vain. The parables show (4) the eager interest Heaven takes in man’s salvation, and the deep joy there is among the angels over his repentance and recovery. And so the three parables close with a "Jubilate." The shepherd rejoices over his recovered sheep more than over the ninety and nine which went not astray; the woman rejoices over the one coin found more than over the nine which were not lost. And this is perfectly natural. The joy of acquisition is more than the joy of possession; and as the crest of the waves is thrown up above the mean sea-level by the alternate depths of depression. so the very sorrow and grief over the loss and bereavement, now that the lost is found and the dead is alive, throw up the emotions beyond their mean level, up to the summits of an exuberant joy. And whether Jesus meant, by the ninety and nine just persons who needed no repentance, the unfallen intelligences of heaven, or whether, as Godet thinks, He referred to those who under the Old Covenant were sincere doers of the Law, and who found their righteousness therein, { Deuteronomy 6:25 } it is still true, and a truth stamped with a Divine "Verily," that more than the joy of Heaven over these is its joy over the sinner that repented, the dead who now was alive, and the lost who now was found! The Expositor's Bible Text Courtesy of BibleSupport.com . Used by Permission.