This is one of the most widely known and beloved of Jesus' parables, and it's easy to see why. It has everything a good story needs—emotion, drama, character, and the elusive element of surprise. All that makes it an exciting—but also difficult—story to tell and talk about. Part of the difficulty comes from its very familiarity and part from its complexity—three important and engrossing characters all claim our attention.

It's important to note that this story is part of a series of parables about lostness, all in response to the religious leaders' grumbling that Jesus hangs around with "sinners and eats with them." In each parable Jesus raises the ante of tension, until it nearly explodes in this one. All the participants in the real-life drama have their counterparts in the characters in the parable—the sinners (the lost son), the Pharisees (the older son), and the Son of God (the father). But at the center of this complex story is the father; this isn't at its core the parable of the lost son but of the incredibly loving father.

Let's start with the lost son. It's easy to understate how outrageous his behavior really is. Who would ever think of asking for a share of an inheritance before the parent had died? This is like saying to the father, "I wish you were dead, but since you aren't yet, give me my share now—I'm out of here." The son is thoughtless, ungrateful, and self-absorbed.

His behavior after he leaves only confirms what a scoundrel he is. Throwing his money away in pleasure-seeking, he ends up just where he deserves to be: among the pigs (unclean and despised animals to Jews). Even his "repentance" seems to fall short. We suspect that it may be motivated more by hunger and desperation than by sorrow for what he has done to his father.

Then there's the father. As outrageous as the lost son's actions are, the father's seem even more unwarranted. He's continually gazing down the path, pining for the scoundrel's return. And, when he finally glimpses the kid, he does something terribly undignified. In that culture, no man of substance would run, and yet the father hitches up his long robe and scuttles on his old, gangly legs to embrace his son, in full view of the scandalized neighbors.

And it doesn't stop there. Before the kid can blurt out his well-rehearsed speech, the father covers his face with kisses, calls for a robe and a ring, and orders a party in the son's honor. Ridiculous! Let the kid know much grief he's caused, we want to object, or at least let him work his way back into favor. Instead, the father's love is so immediate, so extravagant, that we shake our heads in bewilderment when we hear the story.

Then there's the older brother, who is in many ways the point of the story. We get him. He's the only character who acts like an ordinary person. Of course he's hurt and angry. His stupid kid brother gets all the attention, while he's been right there, plugging away all along and all alone, working hard at being a good son.

Notice that the story ends with no resolution. The father pleads with the older son to join the party and celebrate the return of his lost brother. How will he respond?