Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Lent — Year C

 

The fifteenth Chapter of Saint Luke’s Gospel can rightly be described as a “lost & found” collection. Its three parables begin with the story of The Lost Sheep, followed by The Widow and the Lost Coin, and, finally, today’s parable of The Prodigal Son. 

 

This parable is a favorite of many, one of the Lord’s most beautiful stories. A friend of mine once described it thus: “Chartres is the cathedral of cathedrals… and this is the parable of parables.” He even went on to describe it in Latin as “evangelium in evangelio,” the Gospel within the Gospel.

 

Named for the wayward son, its primary focus is a vivid portrayal of the merciful Father. The parable, at once simple and profound, is narrated from three perspectives: that of the younger son, then that of the father, and finally that of the older son.

 

The younger son’s story is a classic account of a sinner’s fall, speaking primarily of those who have fallen away from — or even rejected — faith, religion or family values. For the son to have requested his share of the inheritance while his parents were still living was not absolutely forbidden, but was frowned upon as unloving, unjust and irreligious. The inheritance could be divided while the parents were alive, but it remained the duty of the sons to set aside adequate funds to take care of their parents in their old age. 

 

When he decides to “take the money and run,” the Prodigal Son jeopardized the family’s economic standing. Besides gross ingratitude, he has added the sin of injustice. And then he commits the worst sin a Jew could commit: Apostasy (leaving the Faith). His sins against the Sixth Commandment did not constitute the worst of his worries. It was the abandonment of his family and the values and virtues in which he was raised, all attested to by the phrase “he went off to a far country,” where faith and family could not sustain him, let alone define him, that he commits Mortal Sins against the First and Fourth Commandments.

 

When he finally burns through his inheritance, he hits bottom: slopping pigs, which was anathema to Jews, and he even sinks to the point of envying the pigs. He then awakens to his plight: lost dignity, spent inheritance, a ruined identity. His re-awakening begins with mixed motives; he is driven by hunger and desolation, and his recollection of the servants’s lifestyle back home.

 

Our present translation states that “he came to his senses…” but the original translation states, “he came to himself…” The weakness of the new translation is that it suggests that he made merely a sensible decision. The strength of the former translation is that it suggests his remembering his true identity, coming to a renewed self-knowledge as son of his father, but now with humility. Beyond his former selfishness and sin he now realizes that he belongs to his father, something that his rejection and shameful behavior did not actually change, especially as the father is concerned.

 

He now counts on his father to be true to himself, but his memory of this father is clouded by his own sin. He wrongly surmises that, having spent his father’s money, he has also spent his father’s mercy, forgiveness and love, so that the father might take him back, but only in a limited capacity in which their relationship is re-defined: he would now be a servant, not a son. So, he composes a little speech meant to impress his father, and heads for home.

 

Now, while we might question the purity or sincerity of the son’s motivation for returning to his father, there are no wrong motivations for us Prodigals to return to the Confessional. Whatever level of imperfection might taint our motivations, Our Lord purifies them with the words of Absolution. We are, then, Prodigals by lost Grace, but prodigies by Grace restored.

 

Now, before looking at the father’s response, let’s look ahead to the older brother. We can see him here as a manifestation of the dark side of those whose sins are not so visible or spectacular, but eat away at the soul for their lack of charity. We speak on our sins of omission. Sadly, the older brother has to be reminded by his father of a beautiful life-giving reality present to him at every moment of his life. 

 

The father says, “My son you are here with me always; everything I have is yours.” Note that the father speaks not of this son’s inheritance, but “everything I have is yours.” Yet this is not enough. Embittered by sibling rivalry, unmet expectations in his relationship with his father, and apparent friendlessness, he can find no joy in his brother’s return. Note his continuing rejection of his brother in the dialogue. His father speaks of the Prodigal Son as, “This brother of yours…” but the older son hisses, “This son of yours…”

 

He had lived a life of obedience, fulfilling the demands of the Fourth Commandment, but it was an obedience devoid of love. The younger son had come to a genuine conversion, but the older son’s misunderstanding of the meaning and importance of love, mercy, compassion or forgiveness meant that any conversion he might experience was still to come.

 

We come now to the father who, though the Parable is traditionally named for his Prodigal Son, really is the central character of the story. The father, no doubt heart-broken at his son’s apostasy and rejection of the family, is described in our story thus: “While the son was still a long way off, his father caught sight of him and was filled with compassion. He ran to his son, embraced him and kissed him.”

 

This means that the father had been keeping vigil for his son… never giving up on him…his eyes constantly on the horizon… hoping… hoping…

 

No doubt the first hearers of this Parable were surprised to hear this curve Jesus throws at them; they would have expected a stern rebuke: an arms-folded, toe-tapping “I told you so” sort of gesture. But look at what the father does instead: he ignores that son’s little rehearsed speech and springs into restorative action with the robe, the ring and the sandals. These have symbolic meaning: the robe covers the son’s naked shame with love and forgiveness. The ring is a sign of status, bringing restoration of his lost dignity. And the sandals: servants went barefoot; sons wore sandals. This shows the restoration of his place in the family.

 

Then a celebration of the highest order begins, symbolized by the fattened calf. The sound of music and dancing means that everyone, including the servants, was invited to celebrate. In the midst of this, the father meets the older son’s anger with the same depth of charity given to the younger son, attempting a reconciliation between the two brothers. The father describes the younger son’s awakening as a life-and-death phenomenon, saying, “Your brother was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.” The light of the Resurrection has dawned in his life.

 

But even if we see ourselves in either — or both — situations, the point of the story is that we turn back to the Father. Learning of the Father’s mercy, we should begin to seek it, In the end, Our Lord wants us to become like the Father, meeting those who have hurt us through the sins of omission or commission with the same forgiveness and mercy, compassion and restoration.

 

Saint Paul tells us, “God has reconciled us to Himself through Christ, and given us the ministry of reconciliation. Therefore, whoever is in Christ is a new creation.” The ministry of which Saint Paul speaks is now made possible and practical in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, a central element of this Lenten season. the door of the Confessional can be hard to open for those who consider themselves sinless. But it’s a lot easier to open from the inside, strengthened by the Grace of God’s forgiveness.