This reflection is based on a homily I preached at Heath Village on April 1st. The lectionary included the parable of what is often called “The Prodigal Son.” You can read the parable here.
The parable in the Gospel we just heard is pretty well known, so much so that even people who may not have read it themselves or heard it read or preached about in church, know and use the phrase “prodigal son.” That’s because it is often referred to as “The Parable of the Prodigal Son” or “The Prodigal Son and his Brother.” That’s how I learned it as a child in both the Roman Catholic and the Episcopal Churches, though it was only as I got older and, I hope wiser, that I realized that referring to it in that way colored how I heard and understood the story. Reading about the “prodigal ” son, I expected to encounter a “bad” son, though I’m not sure that I ever truly parsed what “bad” meant, other than someone who had not behaved well. Those expectations were affirmed when I read that he “squandered his wealth in dissolute living, ” as it says in the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible.
With those expectations, the younger son was someone who somehow took advantage of his father’s generosity and then deserted the family, abandoning his responsibilities, to live the high life. When his fortunes took a turn for the worse and he had no other options, he sheepishly returned to his family, not asking to be treated in the way he thought a member of the family would be treated, but “only” as good as the laborers they employed. Was it any wonder that his older brother, the presumptive heir to the family’s wealth (whatever they may have been) and the one who lived by the rules, doing what was expected of him, was bitter and resentful when his father opened his arms to welcome his feckless little brother home?
I remember the first time I heard it referred to as “The Lost Son Returns,” even though I couldn’t tell you exactly when or where that was. If I had to guess, I would say it was in an adult Bible study or from an article in Christian Century or a similar publication. The point is that I entered into the story differently when I expected to hear about a lost son returning to his family than I did when I expected to hear about a son who was “prodigal,” i.e. someone who was reckless or who spent lavishly and extravagently, with the implication of carelessness or lack of judgment.
Hearing the younger brother characterized as “lost” changed my expectations and shifted my perception. I remember feeling empathy and compassion for the younger brother. Who hasn’t exercised bad judgment or felt lost in one way or another. How much strength did it take to acknowledge the consequences of those bad decisions and realize that the only option was to go back and ask for some grace? And what’s with the older brother that he can’t even consider that he might need similar grace some day or, even worse, that he can’t remember the time in was in a similar situation, even if the circumstances were much different? Wasn’t he even a little bit relieved that he no longer had to shoulder the full responsibility for helping his father? Or was it all about his sense of entitlement to his father’s estate?
Now imagine hearing this story referred to in this way: “The Parable of God’s Unconditional Love.” I literally lost my breath for a moment when I read this story the other day and heard myself say out loud, “It’s about God’s unconditional love.” What a liberating experience to shift from trying to figure who’s the good son and who’s the bad son, and to wonder if the father really was duped by the younger son and was oblivious to the impact on the older son. How freeing to not have to take sides, to find a winner and a loser, or to see only black and white when there are so many colors in between?
Doesn’t it change so much to expect to hear a story of God’s unconditional love? To accept the truth that God loves us so deeply that God will stop at nothing to show us how much, as God did in the Incarnation, the Resurrection, and all the years of Jesus’ life in between? To know that no matter how reckless we are, how bad our judgment, how far we stray, how bitter and resentful we might be, if we turn to find God, God will be there. And to know that God won’t be waiting in the distance to see if we’re really serious and will put in the effort to get to where we need to be, but will come to meet us where we are? To accept that God loves us so unconditionally, that all we have to do is turn to God and God will come running with open arms so that we know who and whose we are?
What a relief and a blessing to read this parable in this season of deep reflection and repentance, and to hear God’s voice saying, “I love you, just as you are, so turn and come home to me.”
