Luke 15:11-32
By Sister Rebecca
The story of the Prodigal Son reflects the same theme as that of
the Pharisee and the Publican. The difference is that the characters of the
long-suffering and compassionate father and the self-righteous hidebound elder
son bring out some deeper elements of repentance: change of heart, and
forgiveness again. But now it is in the context of exile and coming home. We
see the obvious sin of the younger son contrasted with the more subtle sin of
the elder brother, along with the long-suffering compassion of the father, who
is the uniting figure in a house torn apart for years.
The younger son who leaves his father's house is like the
unscrupulous tax collector in last Sunday’s parable of the Pharisee and the Publican.
Taking his inheritance early, he wastes it, becoming poor and destitute. His
self-inflicted suffering finally cracks open his rebellious heart, and he
returns home to ask forgiveness. Jesus points in other places to more obvious
sinners, like prostitutes and tax-collectors, and tells us that they will get
into heaven before the less obvious sinners, like hypocrites and Pharisees—those
who are deluded into believing that they are righteous. He tells us that those
who sin much turn out to love much.
The elder son is like the Pharisee who boasted of his
faithfulness to the Law. The elder son boasted that he had remained loyal and
upright in his father's house. Both men thought themselves righteous, and they judged
other human beings. Did they do the
right things but for the wrong reasons? Enjoying wealth and security, knowledge
of the Law and a kind of self-serving obedience to it: neither of them was able
to recognize his own sin and inner poverty. Pride and arrogance undermined all
their so-called righteousness. Like a worm in an apple, it ate away at their
hearts until there was little left to draw on when the time for compassion came
around.
The Pharisee and the elder brother cared only for themselves. They
actually broke the Law, which says, “You shall love your God with all your
heart, soul, mind, and strength and your neighbor as yourself.” So it is with
those two and with us when we abandon compassion for legalism.
Legalism, zealotry, and extremism are always signs that indicate
spiritual bypassing is taking place. Beneath these behaviors there is always
anger, denial, and actually very intense suffering. The word “passion” is often
defined as “sin,” but that is not what it means. The word “passion” actually
means “suffering.” So, the way to a real change of mind is also the path of the
alleviation of our internal suffering. We must not avoid our pain if we want to
heal our pain. There is no other way to heal it than to experience it, to go
there armed with compassion and courage as God leads, and actually feel what it
is we have tried so hard to forget and avoid. There is no other way. That is
what the scripture means that says, “Of this be certain: your sin will find you
out.” Eventually, we will have to deal honestly with what it is that is eating
us up inside.
Here I would like to share a story that happened many decades
ago and made a deep impression on me. A
particular family was celebrating the 18th birthday of the oldest of three
daughters. Upon return from Sunday mass,
the family gathered together for their usual brunch. When the gifts were being offered to the
birthday girl, the middle sister, scowling as shoved her card over to her older
sister, said in a nasty tone, “Here’s a card for you—if you even care!” The older sister stifled her knee-jerk
reaction: to shove it back to her, tit for tat. That would be the usual
reaction. This time, however, she kept silent and opened the card. Reading it, the older girl felt deeply moved,
since this was the first time her sister had ever expressed positive, kind
sentiments to her. She got up from the table
and hugged her sister, thanking her with all her heart. Shocked, the younger sister suddenly burst
into tears: “Oh! I am so sorry for being so mean to you…”
This was a real transformative experience for both of them. They
had been always at odds with each other.
The younger sister was quiet and studious. She manifested a religious
persona, always doing the “right thing.” She was a stay-at-home kid, cared
little about her appearance, saved her allowance, and habitually criticized her
older sister, who bore the traits of the young son in the gospel: impulsive,
spending money thoughtlessly, fun-loving, with a passion for fashionable
clothes, adventurous, and independent, not to mention uninterested in things
religious. This sounds like small stuff, but often life presents the likes of
such details that spark off a budding transformative experience. The two
sisters became close friends. Both began to appreciate their differences and
see what was hidden from their eyes about each other’s qualities. This was an event, a transformative one for
both. It reminds me of what Leonard Cohen wrote: “There is a crack in
everything; that is how the light gets in.”
I would like to believe that the story of the elder son ends
with the father’s gentle heart-warming words piercing the elder son’s heart.
That he sees his own self-righteousness, his mean critical attitude toward his
wander-lusting brother, toward whom he harbored such deep resentment and jealousy.
That the father’s love cracked open his heart and ignited compassion to enter
in.
Great Lent is only two weeks away. The call is always to a
deeper and deeper gut-wrenching change of mind and heart. Transformation is not an easy process, since
it demands our cooperation as the searchlight of the Holy Spirit goes into the
dark places where we do not wish to go. But, as the spiritual dictum tells us,
“The way in is the way out.”
That is why how we treat others is so important to Jesus. Our
ability or inability to love is the only true sign of spiritual health and the
only criterion on which we will be judged on the Great and Last Day. It begins
when we learn to have compassion on our own suffering. Only those in touch with
their own suffering, who have taken the path of repentance, are able to see and
experience God’s ever-encompassing unconditional and patient love.
I’d like to end with Lenard Cohen, again: “Ring the bells that
still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. It is through the crack that
light gets in.”
Note:
I would like to thank Fr. Antony Hughes of St. Mary of the Angels Church in
Boston for his insights, some of which I have included in this homily.
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