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In the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.
The parable of the Prodigal Son speaks to us not only of sin and
repentance but also of the forgiveness that God gives us. When the
prodigal son had come to his senses through suffering, privation,
loneliness and rejection he set out to his father's house, and his
father, who had probably often looked out for his return, saw him from
afar. The Gospel tells us that love and tenderness and pity filled his
heart, "his son was dear to him" and without waiting for his son's
arrival the old man who had been deeply hurt by the young man's sins and
heartlessness ran to meet him, fell on his neck, embraced and kissed him.
Is that how we meet each other when we see from a distance someone
coming from that far country to which all of us at some moment,
frequently perhaps, get drawn by sin, a former friend, relation or
acquaintance returning to us? Is that how we meet him? To begin with, is
it often that our love is so unshakeable that we constantly go to the
door of the house and look into the distance hoping for his return? And
when we do see a person who once was close but has become estranged
moving our way, are we often pierced to the heart by the old love and
tenderness and pity? And do we often make the first move towards him
without waiting for his repentance or words of regret, embrace him and
try to console him for his own inconstancy in love and friendship? Do we
not in fact more often behave like the son who had nothing to reproach
himself with before his father? When that one returned from work in the
fields and heard sounds of rejoicing in the house he asked a servant
what it was about, and hearing that his younger brother who was starving
had returned, he was unwilling to go in. His sinful brother through
shame and fear had understood what he had done, and seeing the state he
had reduced himself to had come from the far country to his father's
house uncertain how he would be received. But he, the righteous one was
standing outside the house where there was rejoicing over the return to
life of one who was dead, and waiting for his father to come and implore
him, "enter into the common joy. I rejoice, the servants rejoice, your
brother rejoices, partake of our joy." But the righteous son rebukes his
father saying that for all those years of work and virtuous living he
had received no reward, whereas when that "son of yours" returned the
father had slain the fatted calf. And the father says, "should we not
have rejoiced when your brother came back?" But the elder son sees in
the prodigal only the sinful son of his father whom he can no longer
accept as a brother, though his father reminds him that if the prodigal
also is his son, he must be the righteous one's brother.
Again I say, does it often happen that we perceive someone who has
sinned, not necessarily against us but done wrong in general as our
brother? Do we not more often say "your son" with contemptuous rejection?
Do we often admit that he is our brother all the same, he is dear to the
father and should be infinitely dear to us? But no, we are like the son
who thought himself virtuous because he was a good worker, although he
remained alien to the spirit of his father's house.
One further comment. The father did not allow his son to ask to become a
servant; he could not take him as a servant but only as a son returned.
And he told then to bring his original robe, not the best garment in the
house but the one he used to wear before he became a stranger, before he
shed it to dress up as a foreigner. When the son put on his former robe
instead of his rags he felt it fit him snugly, and his father ordered
then to bring him the ring, not just a ring, but the ring with which in
older times a man sealed his letters. The father put complete trust in
him. Why? Why did he not first demand proofs of his repentance? Because
he knew that if his son had overcome shame and fear in order to come
home his return was secure. But when a person, formerly a friend but who
has hurt either us or someone dear to us, approaches us, are we ready to
entrust ourselves to him, give him the old affection? No, and therefore
the reconciliation is not permanent. That is why a person is so afraid
of seeking reconciliation; he knows he will not meet the father but only
false, humiliating virtue which says "you are not my brother even if my
father does acknowledge you as his son". Let us consider this question
of forgiveness, because soon it will be forgiveness Sunday and it might
catch us unprepared. Amen. |
