Almost
always I find myself lost in thought when I read or hear proclaimed the parable
of the "prodigal son." (Luke 15:1-32). There’s so much richness; so many applications
that pertain to my own life as a father, a son, and a brother. The compassion and mercy of the wonderful
father is incomparable, only not really.
For he mirrors for us the very love of God in Heaven!
The familiar
story of the prodigal son is traditionally a lesson about the forgiveness of
God. But, on a deeper level it’s a
story, addressed to the elite of Israel, of Jesus’ radical notion that God is
not who they think God is.
The
Pharisees and scribes were the powerful religious establishment in Jesus’ time
in history. The Jewish people deferred to these leaders when interpreting the
scriptures and setting rules for everyday living. But through the generations
preceding Jesus, these leaders became more and more rigid in their
ever-expanding and detailed rules.
Self-righteous, they laid heavy expectations on ordinary Jews like the
poor, the weak and the working families in Nazareth, the ones most familiar to
Jesus.
In contrast,
Jesus took a fresh understanding of God’s relationship to people, forged with
years of study, prayer and reflection on what He witnessed growing up in that
out of the way village. Instead of the
Jews justifying themselves with arcane rules and rituals, which bordered on the
absurd at times, Jesus focused his followers on the words of prophets like
Micah, and psalms like Psalm 103.
Micah says: “Who
is there like you, the God who removes guilt and pardons sin for the remnant of
his inheritance; who does not persist in anger forever, but delights rather in
clemency, and will again have compassion on us, treading underfoot our guilt?
You have cast into the depths of the sea all our sins…” (Micah 7:14-20)
In these
words I found a kind of summary of our entire Lenten experience, especially in
these times, when greed seems to be so pervasive, and when the innocent suffers
at the hands of those who have done wrong.
Through all of this I continue to see my own sinfulness and realize that
healing and a return to a more intense love must begin first within myself in
spite of what others have done. It is I
who must stand humbly before God and be full of amazement at his amazing
mercy. It is I who must trust in his
incomparable love, just like the father in our parable. Who can love us like our God? And who can love us so much that His greatest
delight is to cast even our shame, our guilt, and our sinfulness into the
depths of the sea?
And Psalm
103:1-12 reads: “As far as the east is from the west, so
far has he put our transgressions from us.”
Jesus
restores the Scriptural concept of God as being prodigal…i.e. lavish…in
welcoming everyone, especially the most outcast, the most wicked, the most
offensive criminals.
Our God is
not a God of rules and regulations, no matter how practical some guidelines are
for daily living. Our God, Jesus tells us, ignores the misdeeds of the sinner
and goes out to meet the sinner with open arms. We have only to stand before
God in all our vulnerability, as did the wayward son in the gospel.
No better
lesson about God’s welcoming mercy is the picture of Pope Francis’ gesture on
Holy Thursday, washing the feet of prisoners, those society shuns and locks
away because of their criminal acts…murder, rape, extortion, theft, assault,
fraud, and whatever else the devil can concoct.
Pope Francis’
gesture is one of absolute, unconditional mercy. He is imitating Jesus, who imitates His
Father.
Let’s go and
do likewise.
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