Coming Home

Chapter 15 of Luke’s Gospel is the Chapter on God’s mercy.  The dictionary will tell us that the word “prodigal” denotes someone who spends money lavishly, who squanders wealth, a waster. 

And the Greek word, which we translate as “debauchery,” speaks of unrestrained sensuality and extravagance – a happy-go-lucky playboy.  And that was what the younger son had in mind. 

For the people in Jesus’ time the request of the son was more than a simple request for his inheritance.  It amounted to a total rejection of the father and all that he stood for.  In a very decisive way the son was turning his back on his father and his home.

Denis McBride, in his book on St. Luke, says that the title “Prodigal Son” does little justice to a story, which tells of the extravagant love of the father, the self-righteous posturing of the elder son, and the journey from moral degradation to wisdom of the younger son.

The important moment the Gospel tells us is “When he came to his senses” – the realization of what situation he was in and the decision to turn back to the father. As to the “Prodigal Father,” what he did was unthinkable. The idea that the father might grant the request would be unthinkable to Jesus’ listeners. 

In a society that put great value on ownership of land, no landowner with any common sense would give the young son what he asked for.  So it is not just the son who was prodigal.  The father was prodigal too, in the sense of the abundance of his generosity, the lavishness of his giving, and the warmth of his welcoming back his son.  He was also prodigal, lavish, and abundant, in the amount of freedom he was willing to give to his son.

Freedom is one of the big themes of the story; people being left to make their own decisions, and follow them through. 

Even though it was obvious that his son was to misuse his possession, the father did not make any effort to stop him.  He was willing to go along with the immaturity and downright irresponsibility of the young son, rather than try to force him in any way.

He has incredible respect for his young one.  And there wasn’t even a hint of “Sabi ko na ba eh (I told you so)” when the returned.

The notion of journey is another important theme of the story.  The young son went on a journey to a far country.  After a time, with the money all spent, he began to experience hardship and suffering.  He came to his senses, realizing his own failure.  That is a significant phrase. 

And then he remembers, and remembering gives him hope.  Past happiness gives the possibility of future contentment.  So he decides to go back home, back to where he started. 

But the journey has changed him.  He has journeyed at two levels, coming home to himself, and home to his father and family.  The result of the journey was that he had come to know himself and his true home for the first time.

And then there is the welcome home.  The father has been out watching, gazing into the distance for some sign of the son’s return.  At the time of Jesus, it would be considered undignified for a father figure or a patriarch of families to run. 

But the joy of the father raises him above all convention, above all worry about what people might think.  He runs, and hugs his son.  Not a word, just actions.

The son believes he is no longer ‘part of the family’, but not for the father.  He quickly restores to him all the symbols of belonging and acceptance.  “You are my son.”

The contrast between the younger and the elder son is striking.  The elder son is certainly not “prodigal”, in either meaning of the word.  He has worked hard, and wasted nothing.  He has been an obedient son.    

But in the course of all the years of living his dutiful life he has lost the generous instinct.  There is no prodigality of forgiveness and welcome, of celebration.  He has not gone on any journey, and, ironically, he is now the one who is away from home. 

He is lost in the wilderness of his own self-righteousness.  His anger, his hostility, immobilized him, and he is incapable of journeying.

For the second time the father comes out to meet one of his sons.  And this son too has a speech to make, but now the father has to hear him out, because the anger of the son means that he is far away, and the father cannot put his arms around him.  He also has memories, but they are negative ones.  They are not memories that call him back, make him open to love.  He distances himself from his brother by calling him “this son of yours.”

The only sign of reprimand in the father’s reply is his response to this, but it is no more than a gentle reminder.  “Your brother,” he says, “was dead, and has come back to life; he was lost and is found.” 

And the story ends there. 

It does not say whether the older son remains out in the cold, away from home, or whether he too was found.

For most of us, perhaps the story of the elder son contains a more relevant message than that of the younger.  The most difficult thing that Jesus found in his dealing with the people of his time was self-righteousness.  It was for this that he constantly criticized the Pharisees and the scribes – the good-living people keeping the laws and doing their duty, but with meanness of spirit, a hardness of heart.

It is very significant that the younger son, despite his debauchery (or maybe it was because of it!), did ‘come to his senses’, whereas the story does not indicate that the elder son changed in any way. 

Is Jesus suggesting that the self-righteousness of good people is the hardest condition of all to deal with, and the most destructive? The big struggle for the ‘just’ is to accept the mercy of God for sinners, and ultimately to realize their own equal need for that mercy, and to be able to receive it.

But the story is above all about God, the God that Jesus came to reveal to us.  As one author puts it, the story “reveals the intimate experience of Jesus with God.”  He tells us “what God is like, the way he himself experienced God.”

There is an element of the scandalous about the picture he paints.  And clearly the people at the time, or at least some of them, saw it as such.  The father doesn’t sit and wait for his son to come to him.  He goes out to both of them.  He respects and loves each one equally. 

But, out of respect, he leaves them free.  Free to reject him, to go away.  And neither does his love, or his welcome home, depend on their repentance.

The Father asked no questions; he set no conditions; he didn’t look for any guarantees.  He just threw his arms around his son, and called for a celebration.

The problem remains for our time.  Can we accept this picture of God?  Can we come to know our own need for forgiveness, and then receive it, allowing him to throw his arms around us too? 

And then can we be happy that everyone else is receiving forgiveness in equal abundance, and join in the celebration? 

It is a question of faith.   Do you believe? GUIDING LIGHT   Rev Fr Benjamin Sim, Sj