Saturday of the Second Week of Lent

March 23, 2003

This story of the Prodigal Son has been used in so many Penance Services that for a while I couldn't stand hearing it any more, until I discovered some other nuances.

It is not just the story of a young man who took an early inheritance, squandered it away, came to his senses and returned to a new life. That is the obvious part of the story which we will come back to. If Jesus had continued this parable, it might go something like this:

As he stood at the edge of the field, his arms folded, his jaws set, watching the workmen gathering the wheat into bundles; his face hardened as he thought about all those years he had worked like a slave to keep the farm from failing; and not once had the old man thrown a party for him. Squandering the inheritance that could have been so helpful, now the house was wild with welcome for him.

From behind his back he heard: Shalom, brother. The farm looks great. There isn't another farm along the road that looks so good except the one on the hill. My place he answered curtly with pride. Yours, then you must be married. A wife and two young ones. Dad must be really proud of you. Things have worked out for both of us.

You don't fool me said the younger brother. Dad is getting old. You have worked two farms; perhaps you might use a hired hand to earn a little money. I've made quite a fool of myself while I should have been learning from you. Hut if you give me a chance to learn; I promise I'll do my best.

The older brother's voice suddenly roared so that all the help in the field could hear him; you will not work as a hired hand on this farm. You are my brother. Come with me and take a look at our farm, the men will carry on. They have their orders. The day was nearly over as they finished touring the land and buildings. We'll come out again tomorrow before the sun heats up. I'll give you some pointers on what to do. I know just the crew that will be most beneficial to you. In a short time, you'll have a little money.

Pointing across the field he asked: See that stretch of land that reaches out toward my farm, I'm going to ask Dad to give that to you for your own. Eventually you'll pay for it with your work. Hut it makes a difference when you have something you can call your own. Maybe some day you'll even build house on it and have a family of your own. Who knows?

The door opened and the father came out beaming as he saw his sounds talking; he had been very worried about the elder son's attitude. The young son threw his arms around his Father's neck saying: Dad I never knew how much you loved me; and my brother too. I didn't think that anybody cared Tears poured down his cheeks.

And why not? the old man asked, as he held the young man in his embrace. Am I not your Father? Is he not your brother? Are we not all one family?

This elder brother was self-righteous and envious. He kind of reminds me of Cain and of myself at times. And where is the mother in this family? Any good Jewish mother would never tolerate this kind of behavior.

And if we focus on the Father who seems to be the God role, it must be very difficult to experience the feelings of a parent of a wayward child - watching, waiting, and worrying; knowing that the choice to return or not lies solely with the child. Feel the anguish of powerlessness and heartbreak.

The parent is fragmented; grieving not only the loss of child but an essential part of self, a part of one's “I Amness.” Nothing can fill that empty space, that broken away portion.

Jesus compares His Father to a parent of a wayward child. Do you find such a metaphor shocking? The picture of a God who alternates between aching vulnerability and wild joy of relief. Wild joy, neither majestic nor dignified, and in the eyes of some like the older brother, unjustified.

Yes, we might find this shocking. But surely God watches and waits. But can an omnipotent God worry? Can an omniscient God even wonder?

In His Fatherly love God has given us marvelous capabilities; intellects to comprehend the things of God, free will to choose whether to obey and serve or do our own thing; and the capacity to remember and recall His compassion in times of difficulty.

When life becomes degenerate and it seems that we have lost everything, we can return to a God who is powerful enough to restore us to sanity and recovery; but ultimately the choice is ours. God waits for us to return to Him of our own volition.

He does not wait for total amends or cleaned up acts. He runs to His son, hugs his son, throws a party relieving him of shame and guilt and welcomes him home whether others like it or not. He breathes life into his son who was dead. Wholeness returns.

That kind of God is shocking. A God of love, whose power shocks us into awakening, humbles us into a thirst; ah, that's tomorrow's story, and fills us with profound gratitude for repentance and reconciliation.

But this parable is not just a story; it is a history. It is what God has done for countless people including you and me throughout the centuries. God is waiting to overwhelm us but we must first come to Him and He will free us from the clutches of dependencies whatever they may be.

And He will make us a blessing to others.