A situation that I believe should be a cause of great concern for the church came to my attention a few weeks ago. The precise nature of the situation is not nearly as relevant as my state of mind when I became aware. Though I would assess this particular situation as one that should never have taken place, I’ve been forced by the words of the Gospel to take a step back and reassess this situation and my reaction to it. This reassessment is not unlike what I have been forced to do in the past, for instance, with my stand on the death penalty.
Although I cannot say that I’ve ever been a strong proponent of the death penalty, I have generally remained silent because of the nature of the crimes for which the death penalty is prescribed and ordered. And if I allow my emotions to rule, I can easily expand the death penalty for a few other crimes as well. That the Mosaic Law is quite specific about the penalty for premeditated murder is not in question. My greater concern is our collective state of mind when we demand that this penalty be imposed, especially before the accused is even brought to trial. To wit, are we hungry for justice or are we thirsty for blood? The Scripture which speaks to this emotional state of mind is equally clear: “VENGEANCE IS MINE, says the Lord.”
This is not, however, about crime and punishment nor is the parable of the prodigal son which Jesus shares (Luke 15:11-32) with Pharisees, scribes, and His disciples. It is an insight and perspective of the Lord’s mind and how He sees and, ultimately, receives us. Perhaps more than this, the parable is a challenge for us to strive to look at the world, our fellow man, and our place in it through His eyes and not our own.
If we were to encounter “the prodigal son” in the present day - and I’m sure we all have in one form or fashion - we would see a hard-drinking, skirt-chasing, party-hardy kind of guy whose sole purpose in life is to have fun, feed his own carnal desires, and give no thought to anyone other than himself. And in the deep recesses of our minds, we would be pretty sure that this man is on the fast-track straight to Hades. For the most part, we would write him off as hopeless and not worthy of our time or attention.
Now how would we see and receive this same person if we had seen him through his father’s eyes? Broken in spirit and in flesh, with seeming remorse only because he ran out of money and was going hungry, we would be inclined to suggest that he was getting his just desserts. We would be pretty sure in our minds that, eventually, he might be able to pull himself up by his own boot straps, but he would have to do it on his own or with the help of his family or others who might care.
Ah, but this is not at all what his father is seeing. In the parable, we encounter a father who likely has not forgotten his beloved son, perhaps a father who has been or may still be in mourning. We encounter a father who was probably well aware of everything his son had been up to. After all, when the “good” son objected to all the attention being paid to the prodigal son, the father seemed unfazed at the points the “good” son was bringing forth. The father knew. Without a doubt, he knew. Somehow none of it mattered. To the father, what had happened in the past had nothing to do with the here-and-now. Even more to the point, it did not seem to matter what it was that brought the son to his doorstep. What was important was that the son had come home. He was ALIVE again!
It would be reasonable to believe that if the prodigal son had not run out of money, he would not have come back to his father. Why would he? He was living high on the hog, and the world was his oyster. It was not until he was out of money, the country he was living in was enduring a famine, and he was reduced to slopping hogs that seemed to be eating better than he when he finally “came to himself”.
Of course a father’s love is going to be far more enduring, patient, and long-suffering for his own child than that of a stranger who knows nothing, but I think there is a point to Jesus telling this parable that is even more profound than that of teaching us about the Father’s EAGERNESS to forgive. It seems to even go much further than simply our Holy Father’s desired relationship with His creation. It is also about our being able and willing, perhaps, to understand that those who are at their worst seemingly by their own choice are now or once were someone’s child.
King David suffered through something similar with his son Absalom though Absalom’s life ended before any reconciliation could take place. This is, in my opinion, one of the most powerful stories throughout Scripture that speaks volumes about a father’s love for his own and was perhaps somehow deliberate in its telling or recording or happenstance so that we could better appreciate how the Lord feels about humanity and provides to us as well a bit of a perspective about how He feels when we meet our untimely end without ever being reconciled to Him.
In 2 Samuel 18 is the story in which Absalom rises up in rebellion against his father, King David. And even as King David was forced to flee for his safety, he still ordered his commanders that no harm should come to Absalom. In the end, however, Absalom was killed in battle by the king’s men. Rather than celebrate a victory, the king went into mourning: “if only I had died in your place, O my son Absalom.”
Of course King David was mourning for his son as a father would, but I’ve always wondered if this is not an expression of how our Holy Father feels whenever we are in a state of rebellion against Him and meet our end without ever having reconciled ourselves to Him. How many have we written off as hopeless, failing to realize that there is our Father in Heaven who is in mourning for the very person we dismiss? And in chapter 19 when the people could see King David mourning for his son, they were not pleased! How could he feel anything but loathing for someone who sought to destroy him? Though there certainly was a connection, was it any of their business how King David felt about his own son, his own flesh?
Once the prodigal son took his share of the estate and left, the father knew that no good would come of it but he must have also surely known that there was really nothing he could do to stop the destruction. He gave the boy his share of the inheritance and set him free to do with it what he pleased. It was the BOY who nearly met his own destruction by his own hand until he came to his senses and returned home.
As we continue in our Lenten journey, let us be mindful of the knowledge that we had also been given our share of the inheritance and set free. Humanity was also on the road to spiritual ruin until a Father’s Love intervened and made it possible for us to find our way Home. A door had been opened so that once we come to our senses, we can be assured that we will be greeted with open arms, clothed with the finest robe, and a feast set before us – with no questions asked. And if us, then surely others.
Amen.
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