Parables are brilliant stories, using real life images
in order to teach a moral about what God is like, Christian living, and many
other important lessons that Jesus gave us.
Our parable this Sunday is Jesus' longest story and is richly filled
with beauty about God's mercy, love for us despite our waywardness and about
the danger of jealousy and pride. But first, let's look at our second reading.
Our second reading this Sunday and the stunning Gospel story which Jesus tells, reveals the very heart of God and the Good News which Jesus preached. At the base of our sacrament of reconciliation is this truth. Paul, speaking to his Christian converts at Corinth reminds them: “Whoever is in Christ Jesus is a new creation; the old things have passed away; behold new things have come . . . Christ has given us the ministry of reconciliation . . .” (2 Cor 5: 17-18).
Paul gives us a theological explanation. We are called
to build bridges, as God has done for us between himself and humanity, which is
one image of reconciliation. Reconciliation is a process of conversion and the
great sacrament of healing, or confession, invites us to walk into that process
before a merciful God. Any priest should be there not as judge and jury but in
the person of Christ, the divine physician who heals the wounded.
This leads to our Gospel from Luke 15 which makes that
process a deeply personal one. For me, and I know for many, many more the story
of the “Prodigal Son” or the “Forgiving Father” or any other variation on that
title you may want to offer, is not only a brilliant cast of characters but
deeply moving on a faith level. It is
rich with character development and questions our own view of God and our
ultimate response to God’s almost over the top mercy. And while the selfish,
ungrateful son risks not only his reputation but places himself in a position
where the Jewish father is so dishonored that he may simply be banished from
the family, the center piece of this story it strikes me is more the father
than the son. We may also call is, the
parable of the generous father. The tender Rembrandt painting is rich with this
symbolism.
In telling this story, Jesus deliberately, I suspect,
left the end hanging with the father’s challenging statement to the jealous
older brother: “My son . . . everything I have is yours. But now we must
celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life
again; he was lost and has been found.” (Lk 15: 32). How the older son reacted to this statement
is left unanswered. Did he come around and join the party? Did he walk away in
disgust? Did he ask his father to
forgive him for his petty jealousy? It invites us to our own self-examination.
How would I feel and what would I do? With which son do I most identify?
Further, the setting in which Jesus told this story is
significant to our understanding. Luke
reminds us: “Tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to listen to
Jesus, but the Pharisees and scribes began to complain, saying ‘This man
welcomes sinners and eats with them.’” (Lk 15: 1). Jesus was constantly berated
for his association with the undesirables; the great unclean sinners among the
more prideful “clean.” And among his
worst critics were, of course, those so hardened in their own self-righteousness,
that they had closed their minds to God’s mercy, like the older brother.
Regardless, Jesus invites specifically this crowd, who
are invited to see themselves in the older son, to open their hearts and minds.
The real block by the older brother was likely jealousy and the unwillingness
to accept the younger brother back from a life of wastefulness. The jealously lies not in what the younger
brother did, but in how he was treated by the father after coming home. Are we
jealous of the good fortune of others or do we resent it? If life is all about
me, then any lucky break or deserved accomplishment by another would be bring
jealously. How does your parable end?
It invites every one of us to ask ourselves the same
question about which of the two sons do I find in myself. The answer for most of us is that I see both
sons in me. Our God is like the father in the story who waits for us to come
home with open arms. He longs for our return with love and mercy, not judgment
and condemnation. Clearly, he had been waiting for the return of his son for on
first sight he ran to meet him. What caused him to be so repentant – desperation
and guilt: “Coming to his senses,” Jesus teaches. However imperfect his
repentance was, at least it motivated him to return.
The greater value is the person, most especially one
who repents. (Have you gotten the point
Pharisees that Jesus may be thinking of you?) This is why our Lord reached out
constantly to those who were branded as “sinners.” Everyone has a chance with
God. The younger son is changed, not the same person he was. Like an almost Ebenezer Scrooge kind of
transformation, it is cause to give thanks.
Then the story ends: "He was lost and has been found!" Again, I imagine Jesus looked more intently than before at his listeners who likely were stunned by the father’s behavior. Hopefully, though, also moved so deeply that they saw themselves in the two sons and in particular the most stubborn among them began to soften their own pride which blinded them to see the expansive nature of God. We find it in the sacrament of reconciliation, the holy Eucharist, the scriptures, our shared faith and prayer. But we must become the father in our daily encounter with each other.
In the middle of this rich journey through Lent we may
have found our personal need to return to the Father. Go to be reconciled with the Father in
sacramental confession. He is waiting
for you .
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