The name of the parable that we have in this morning’s Gospel
is The Prodigal Son. This younger
son certainly is a significant character in the story. With great brashness and insensitivity he
asks for his share of the inheritance before the Father is even sick, much less
dead, and then goes off and wastes it all on a “life of dissipation”, or as the Jerusalem Bible more evocatively
translates it, “a life of debauchery”.
Debauchery is such a juicier word than
dissipation. In any case this younger
son certainly did some stupid, mean, and very destructive things. He hurt his family, wasted his money, and
very easily could have ended up dead.
We know, in
fact, that God has given us a terrible freedom, and does not prevent us from
doing horribly wrong things. We know we
are free to do mean, hateful, demeaning things that are destructive to
ourselves and to others, things with really serious consequences. We know this because we read about them in the
paper every day. We know this because we’ve
ourselves have done them. And God does
not stop us. God does not protect us
from ourselves. It would be nice if God
would. Think of all the heartache,
embarrassment, painful regret and lasting, gnawing guilt that we could avoid if
God would only stop us before we do something mean or vile or stupid. If you’ve ever awakened some morning and said,
..”Oh God, what did I do?”… you know
what I am talking about. So we can
identify, at least to some extent, with the younger son.
There is also
the older son, the “good”
son. Given the way the story works as a
story, he is the key. For at the
end of the parable the issue is not with the younger son. That is resolved. Nor is the issue with the Father. He’s O.K.
The critical issue is with the older son. ¿Will he go into the party and accept his
Father’s love and accept his brother as his brother, or will the older son
remain caught in his bitterness, pride and self-righteousness, and choose to
isolate himself?
We are given a
clue to the centrality of the older son at the beginning of the Gospel. You remember that the sinners and tax
collectors were all gathering around Jesus to hear him. This upset the Pharisees and the
scribes. They murmured and grumbled
about this. They didn’t approve.
You see, they
didn’t think it was fair. The Pharisees
and scribes could tell that Jesus was something special, that he was very much
in tune with God. But here they were,
the good people, the people who worked hard at keeping the law, doing what was
pleasing to God, keeping the commandments, not sleeping in on Sunday morning
but getting up and coming to church, and they end up standing on the outside of
the circle around Jesus. Meanwhile, all
these sinners, tax collectors, drug dealers and prostitutes, had elbowed and
pushed and squirmed their way up to the front, right in front of Jesus. And instead of shooing them away and sending
them to the back of the crowd, where they belonged, Jesus welcomed them. And the Pharisees and the scribes did not
approve. They felt slighted.
And so, Jesus
addresses this parable to them. Not to
the disciples. Not to the sinners and
tax collectors, but to the Pharisees and the scribes.
The Pharisees
and scribes have gotten a bum rap. They
weren’t bad people. In fact, they were
the good people, the people who worked at it, who tried to do what was right.
They were like us. But they did have a
problem. They, like so many of us, began
to believe that they did it.
That is
understandable. It is so easily, almost
inevitable it seems, that when we have put a lot of effort and energy into
something, worked hard at it, tried our best, stayed with it and succeeded,
that we begin to believe that we did it.
But that is not true. ¿Where did
the talent, the energy, the perseverance, the intelligence, even the time and
the opportunity come from? We
are tempted to believe that they all came from ourselves. But they didn’t. They came from God. Everything is a grace.
And so it is
to them Jesus addresses this parable and forces them – and us – to make a
choice. Do we want to stand on our own
self-righteousness and remain outside, or are we willing to accept God’s free
gift, not just to us, but to those undeserving others, and so embrace them as
brothers and sisters? It is not
easy. And Jesus does not answer the
question for us.
Finally, there
is the Father. When the younger son
comes to him with the outrageous request that he receive his share of the
inheritance, and in effect telling his Father ‘I wish you were dead,’ the Father, instead of doing what he should
do and smacking the younger son up the side of his head, foolishly gives in and
divides the property. ¿ Would it not
have been better, for the younger son’s own good, for the Father to not
give the son any money, to take away the car keys, and to ground the younger
son for a year or more until he got sane again?
I often think this way.
But God so
badly wants us to be free to give ourselves to Him, that God even allows
us to freely hurt one another and our own selves. And so the Father lets the younger son
go. Freedom is tough.
The Father is
more prodigal in His love than even the younger son was with money. What an image for God! Here is a God Who is anxious and eager to
forgive. The Father stands on the hill
top, anxiously searching the horizon for the younger son’s return. As soon as he sees him, still a long way off,
the Father doesn’t wait till the son gets back, but unable to restrain himself –
with no concern whatsoever over his dignity and how he appeared - the Father
runs out to meet him, throws his arms around him, kisses him, won’t let the son
finish his little rehearsed speech of apology.
The Father does not demand an
apology. He does not demand an
accounting of where all the money went.
He does not require a listing of all the things the son did wrong. Quite the opposite. The Father gives him a new outfit and throws
a big party. This Father is more
prodigal with his love and forgiveness than even the younger son was with his
inheritance. The Father is a great lover
and a great image of God. For Jesus
knows a God who is always, always, always, eager and anxious to forgive. God wants badly to reconcile us and heal us
and love us.
The Father is
the key to understanding the parable. We
know about people who do stupid and selfish things like the younger son. We know about self-righteous and proud and
closed in people like the older son. But
the Father who loves and gives and forgives so eagerly, so prodigally, so
overwhelmingly, is not common.
The Father
loves. That is what He does. He loves the younger son even when he is
selfish and stupid. He loves the older
son even when he is self-righteous and up-tight. It makes no difference. The Father loves, because that is what the
Father does.
The correct
understanding is given to us today by St. Paul in the second reading: "All
this has been done by God, who has reconciled us to himself through Christ and
has given us the ministry of reconciliation."
"All this has been done by God,"
God does it. God chooses us to be His children. Any choosing we do is almost irrelevant
compared to that. God reconciles us to
himself through Christ, and any good that we accomplish is the result of God’s
grace, not the prerequisite for earning it.
This beautiful
parable of the prodigal son is not addressed to the sinners out there on the
streets, not addressed to the indifferent people out having coffee at Starbucks
this Sunday morning, but to us, the church goers, the good people. The parable instructs and warns us not to
take our goodness as our accomplishment, but as God’s gift to us.
"All this has been done by God," "All this has been done by God,"
Thanks be to God!