Homily for the
4th Sunday of Lent
March 30, 2025
Luke 15: 1-3, 11-32
Scouts NYLT,
Putnam Valley, N.Y.
Our Lady of the Assumption,
Bronx
St. Francis Xavier,
Bronx
 |
Return of the Prodigal Son (Palma Giovane) |
“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).
It’s a proverb that you’re known by the
company you keep, for better or for worse.
St. John Bosco constantly advised youngsters to choose their friends
carefully.
So the religious leaders in Israel complain,
repeatedly, about the company that Jesus keeps.
Pretty much no one likes tax collectors, and in 1st-century Palestine
they were oppressive and often corrupt, and they worked for the Romans. “Sinners” was a broad category—those who
flagrantly violated moral norms, obviously, but also those who didn’t observe
all the fine details of Jewish law, like diet, purifications, and ritual prayer.
Jesus kept such company, not because he was
like them but because he wanted them to know that God loves them and cares
about them. If God doesn’t care about
sinners—people who commit sin, big sins or little sins, all of which stain us
before God—then all of us are in trouble.
To drive home the point of God’s care, Jesus
on this occasion told 3 parables; our gospel reading was the 3d one. The 1st concerned a lost sheep, the 2d a lost
coin, both of which were diligently searched for and brought a lot of joy when
they were found. If you listened to the
gospel just now, you realize that both sons were lost, and their father had to
search for both of them. He was
incredibly happy when the younger son returned—was found; we’re left hanging at
the end about the older son, who’s reluctant to return, to come into the party,
to be part of the family happiness. We
don’t know what he finally did.
All of us are like both sons at different
times. The younger son really dissed his
father—basically telling him, “I can’t wait for your death; give me my
inheritance now”—and then led a wild and self-centered life. Notice that after he’s spent everything on
wine, women, and song (as the older son would have it), and he’s destitute, he
hasn’t a friend or anyone willing to help him out. He’s desperate even for pig food. Self-centered people are lonely and lost.
And all of us act like that sometimes— rude, arrogant,
greedy, selfish, wasteful.
The older son doesn’t seem to have a good
relationship with his father; he feels like little more than a slave in the
house—“all these years I served you”—some translations say, “I slaved for you”
(15:29)—and he resents getting little recognition for it. He’s furious about his younger brother,
probably going all the way back to the division of the family estate, and
certainly now that “your son” (not “my brother”) has gotten a warm welcome and
a big party, and all’s forgiven, even if the younger son will never get any
more of the family fortune.
But don’t all of us sometimes resent the good
fortune of others or how bad people seem to thrive, or pass judgment on people
as to who’s good and who’s bad and think we ought to be in charge? How ready are we to give people a 2d chance
after they’ve really made a mess of their lives, or offended us? Are we ready to rejoice when God is generous
and forgiving, or do we prefer to complain, condemn, and stay out of the party
that God wants to give for Jesus’ friends, whoever they are?
The point of Jesus’ parable, however, is that
we ought to act like the father in the parable.
What’s he like? Tho insulted and
abandoned by his son, he continued to love him and to long for his return, as
God continues to love sinners and long for their return. The father forgives and is supremely happy
when his lost son comes home, even in a wretched state—as God is when we
sinners come home to him.
That’s why Jesus “welcomes sinners and eats
with them” (15:2). In fact, shortly
we’ll dine with Jesus, who nourishes us sinners with his own Body and Blood. The son in the parable protested to his
father, “I no longer deserve to be called your son” (15:21). We’ll protest, “Lord, I am not worthy” to
receive you. Nevertheless, he invites
us; he welcomes us; he wants us; he calls us his friends, as he called the
apostles at the very 1st Eucharist (John 15:15).
“Now we must celebrate and rejoice, because
your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been
found,” the father explains to his older son (15:32). Jesus wants nothing more than to bring us
back to life, to pardon our sins and guide us from being lost to sin in the future.