27 Mar SUNDAY, MARCH 27, 2022
For years, this parable has been mislabeled the prodigal son. In fact, Luke places this parable third in line to the lost coin and lost sheep. Never did he intend to focus on one son more than the other, placing emphasis on immoral behavior, casting one brother as irresponsible, the other dutifully so.
The more appropriate label is the lost son. Such a heading invites the parable to speak of both sons, to tell how each “lost their way”. How both were seen to double down on feelings and act out. One sought pleasure, the other control.
Each in their own way, tried to outdo the other while proving themselves. Each was caught in a web of desire and answered an inner calling. One heard, “Seek your freedom”, the other, “Earn your way.” They suited themselves. One by pursuing independence and pleasure, the other by becoming indispensable and more perfect.
One character remains constant. The father, who has watched each child develop and grow to adulthood, loves and accepts their differences. He offers support and blessings to both. Does not withhold, make demands, or insist either choose one path or the other. He remains supportive and non-judgmental. While the sons demonstrate typical human behavior, the father does not.
Over the span of my life, I’ve played the role of both sons. As a young adult woman, I distinctly remember apologizing to God in advance for avoiding conversation. I knew my plans ran opposite God’s will. With full understanding of how confession and forgiveness works, I didn’t want to be a hypocrite, sin and confess knowing full well, I planned to sin again.
Like the young son, I explained up front, “I’m going to do my own thing and leave for a while cause I’m pretty sure your will runs counter to the things I want to try. All my life, I’d done as either God or my parents wanted. With freedom and money in hand, I set out. For the first time, I was “free”, had means, and was determined to experience what life offered.
The funny thing, of course, is the notion that God stays fixed in the place where we turn on our heels, leave and say goodbye. God, like our upbringing, our roots and the values instilled in us travel with every child who grows up, then declares emancipation and independence.
At the moment of repentance, what’s the true origin of our thoughts? What prompts us to assess how far we’ve gone or the state our lives have become? Whose idea is it to reflect upon favorable conditions that once were or could be under another person’s roof or watchful eye? Beckoned by an internal voice of compassion, the younger son is invited to return home. He thinks it’s his idea.
In a book entitled, The Artist’s Way, one chapter says this, “We are not accustomed to thinking that God’s will for us and our own inner dreams can coincide,” (p 194.) Instead, we, like both sons, decide God’s will follows only one path. Any deviance equals distancing ourselves. What God requires is strict obedience and service, anything less equates to disobedience and disservice.
Interesting to note, as only one son asks for his portion of the inheritance, the father divides his assets between both, giving equal opportunity without implying one is right and the other wrong.
Aren’t both wrong? The first for desiring his inheritance while his father lives and the other for assuming his father’s love conditional? Religion often delivers the same message, “Don’t ask for early rewards. Keep working hard. Don’t refuse what’s asked of you. Your behavior keeps hope alive.”
The aforementioned paragraph continues by saying, “We have bought the message of our culture:..we are meant to be dutiful…then die.” That’s it! We believe that and we’re full of ambivalence and conflict about it. We, like the older son, often resign ourselves to doing what we must because no one else will.
At the sound of others making merry, jealousy grows. With curiosity we want to hear details of the rich and famous. The thought that we could have gotten attention, received accolades, been the beneficiary of generosity turns envy a dark shade of green. Like the older son, we protest, making a case as to why we deserve more than we got. “All these years, I’ve worked hard, stepped up, and obeyed commands.”
It’s hard to work hard and not hope to be rewarded with good health, prosperity, good fortune, or opportunity for those we love. How ‘bout showing appreciation at least?
Ahh. The trap of doing good, sacrificing for a cause or for the sake of others. Who has noticed my toil, my unwavering sacrifice and endurance, dedication and forbearance? Anyone? If no one does, we become angry which can lead to depression. Has no one noticed all I’ve done or suffered? Have you been watching God? Where have you been? Did I drive you away?
The good news is, God has never not been present or unobservant. During the famine, God drove the young man to hire himself out. Sure, that employer was kind of jerky for making a Hebrew feed hogs deemed both literally and spiritually unclean. The young man would have gladly filled himself with what the pigs were eating but no one gave him anything.
When other people, money, enhancements, or success fail to meet the hunger for what we really need, God speaks a convincing word. “Stop what you’re doing. You weren’t given life to suffer day after day without your needs being met. I have provisions for you elsewhere. There is a better way to go. Stop. Remember how much you are loved unconditionally, if by no one else, by the one who made you.”
Like the two sons, we sometimes latch onto fear or anger. We refuse to think differently, refuse to listen or see another point of view. Both brothers took turns at turning away and distancing themselves.
But the father follows, leaving his place of residence and going where his children have gone to party or sulk. A good parent says their piece and if that doesn’t work, they plead. And if that doesn’t work, they still don’t withhold a blessing. Why? Because they don’t desire for their children to bear a curse.
My relationship with both parents ran parallel to my relationship with God. At times our encounters were intense. There were many moments of tenderness. Communication was complicated. Expectations high; disappointments predictable. But the lessons I learned from both parents taught me just how reliable is the love of God.
Sitting on the back steps that led from the family room slider to the patio, I told my day that I’d bought a plane ticket to Vegas. My intention was to visit my then boyfriend stationed at Nellis Air Force Base. My dad said his piece, describing what he thought would happen if I went. When that didn’t work, he began to plead, telling me he strongly disagreed with my choice. In the end, my dad said this, “I don’t want you to go. But since you insist, I won’t withhold my blessing. Why? Because I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
How can we deny God knows what is best and offers us opportunity, speaking to us as needed so we don’t get to a place of no return. Catholic liturgy retains a semblance of a penitent heart. “Father/Mother, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I’m not worthy to be called your son/daughter or be received by you. Only say the word, and I shall be healed.”
Before a child finishes their statement, a parent is filled with compassion, which means to suffer with. Parents and God feel the suffering of their children. They feel when they’re afraid, when they’re angry, even or especially when those emotions are directed at them.
Like good parents, God wants nothing more than to have the family united, to see arms wrapped around each other and kisses being shared. Clothing and accessories are offered not only to cover nakedness but to help establish identity. We belong to each other and any occasion where our familial relationship is affirmed is cause for celebration, food and merriment.
Remember this saying, “Someone who has lost a child forever, will gladly accept yours on their worst day.” So let us take a page from the Bible today and apply it to our lives. The goal of life is to mature enough to become like the father, quick to respond with compassion and generosity.
Respond without stipulation knowing that the father, our Heavenly Father divided the inheritance of his only son with us upon request. To do so was always his intention as it was always his to give. The father, our Heavenly Father responds compassionately prior to hearing our confession. His compassionate response coincides with our complaining.
He did, in fact, leave his domain and an ongoing celebration to pursue both his foolish and angry offspring exactly because he couldn’t stand the thought of losing any children. Well aware of who is dedicated to what, everything he owns is not claimed as his alone, but set aside for each and every offspring.
Let us pray. God, you have reconciled us with the goal of becoming your righteousness: unconditionally, generously loving to all your children. When fear or anger distance us, compassionately nudge or turn us completely in the direction of you and home, like you do and for which we love you like a good mom or dad. In your holy name we pray, Amen.