4th Sunday of Lent
March 6, 2016
Luke 15: 11-32
Iona College, New Rochelle, N.Y.
“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’” (Luke 15: 1-2).
In Luke’s 15th chapter Jesus tells 3 parables, addressed
specifically to the Pharisees and scribes, who were complaining about his
friendly association with tax collectors and other notorious sinners—whatever
that designation means, precisely. Those
parables are the lost sheep, the lost drachma, and the one we just heard, the
lost son. (3 years ago I added “the
lost Swiss Army knife,” which I’d just found serendipitously while setting
up my kit for a Scout Mass.)
We usually call the parable of the lost son that of the
“prodigal son.” Prodigal means “recklessly extravagant,” “characterized by wasteful
expenditure.”[1] The latter meaning describes the younger son,
certainly, who “squandered his inheritance on a life of dissipation”
(15:13)—eating tons of pizza, drinking gallons of Bud, and playing video games,
no doubt, altho the elder son suggests worse (15:30), perhaps having seen
YouTube or perhaps engaging in rash judgment.
But the 1st meaning, “recklessly extravagant,” may well apply to the
father, who is certainly prodigal with his forgiveness. Which is just the point that Jesus is making
to his interlocutors: “I tell you, in
just the same way there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents
than over 99 righteous who have no need of repentance,” he says to them as he
concludes the parable of the lost sheep (15:7); he says something similar after
telling of the woman who had lost one of her 10 drachmas (15:10).
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| James Tissot |
So do we identify with the younger son, the wastrel, the
ingrate who in effect says, “Dad, I wish you were dead and can’t wait for my
inheritance”? who “comes to his senses” (15:17) or becomes remorseful only when
he’s slopping unclean pigs and starving because what he feeds them is unfit for
his own food? He seems to have what in
the old catechism we called “imperfect contrition”; he’s not sorry because he
offended his gracious and loving father but because he’s in such a sorry state
himself. When we admit our sins, perhaps
it’s because we’re truly sorry for having offended a Father who is so good to us
and has committed himself to our eternal welfare; perhaps it’s because we’re
afraid of his wrath. But either way,
we’re happy to be forgiven and are grateful for that. We’re happy that the Father welcomes us back
into the family.
But when we remember that Jesus is addressing the Pharisees and
scribes, who are complaining about his friendliness—and mercy—toward people
whom the Pharisees and scribes detest for their moral and ritual failings, we
need to look toward the elder son as the key figure in the parable. He represents the Pharisees and scribes, who
never disobey any of the rules of the Torah but don’t find a lot of joy in
their faith, don’t seem to have a close relationship with the Father—and who’ve
done nothing to try to call those tax collectors and sinners back to God, just
as the elder son didn’t do his familial duty when the younger son demanded his
share of the family estate, sold it off—alienated the land the family had owned
for generations—and abandoned his home and family. Unpardonable behavior on the younger’s part,
and in the Middle East the elder son would have been expected to mediate
between his father and his brother, patch things up, save the family estate and
the family honor. But he doesn’t. He’s really not a likeable fellow. He even speaks disrespectfully to his father,
who loves him and seeks him just as much as he did the younger son.
Are we so different from that elder son? Do we think ISIS targets should be targeted
without regard for civilians as “collateral damage”? Do we think every convicted killer should be
fried, and quickly? Do we think gays
should be sent to Siberia? Do we think
that all those illegal immigrants—you know, all those Irish hiding in Manhattan
and Brooklyn after overstaying their visas—should be rounded up and shipped
home? Oh, yeah, and the Mexicans and
Central Americans too, including the ones their parents brought here at age 2
or 7. Do we think everyone on welfare
should just get a job and the unemployed shouldn’t be so lazy? Are there family members from whom we’ve been
alienated a long time because of something they did or said, or didn’t do; or
we thought they did or said or didn’t
do, but we really didn’t verify that?
Whose behavior do I really resent?
Whom do I look down on because they’re morally inferior to me?
We’re probably not quite that harsh. More likely, we find in ourselves some
elements that make us resemble the elder brother, and some the younger brother. Jesus is certainly calling us to be more
compassionate, more understanding, more patient with the faults, even the
grievous faults, of others; to be forgiving and encouraging of those who want
to come back—into our lives, the Church’s life, God’s family. That’s the only way we can get into the celebration that the Father is throwing, the
celebration of eternal life.
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