The
parable of the Prodigal Son is for me one of the most versatile of all the
stories in the Gospels. And it is so because at various times in our
lives it is easy to identify with one or all of these three characters.
Of course our motives for identifying with them can be mixed, such as
when we prefer to put ourselves in the shoes of the father. He has been
deeply wronged, and his youngest son was much of a disappointment. We’ve
all been there. And there is more than a hint of disappointment to be
found in the eldest son, who complains that he has not gotten proper
recognition from the father. We’ve all been the aggrieved elder
brother. But unlike the father, are there times when we’ve preferred to
wallow in our grief and refuse to turn the page and move on?
We’ve
also been in the shoes of the younger son, who returns from a wasted life,
hoping to begin all over again. If the truth be told, most of us have a
hard time imagining ourselves doing horrible things from which we regret.
Repentance and change of life are generally what other people need to do.
However,
many of us prefer to be the older brother. We’ve been good boys and girls
throughout life, been well-behaved, worked hard. But why is it that all
the wicked people around us seem to prosper? Where is justice in this
world?
So
we end up with a story in which one person desperately wants forgiveness; a
second wants to give it freely; and a third begrudges the easy forgiveness that
the undeserving brother gets. But here is the struggle that goes on throughout
our daily lives.
Just
for today let’s pretend that we are not the generous father. Let’s
pretend that we are not the virtuous older brother who does everything right
and gets so little recognition in return. For a moment, let’s pretend,
hypothetically of course, that we are the younger brother – the sinner, the
wastrel, the guy who needs to turn his life around.
For
years there was an element in this parable that had never occurred to me, until
someone pointed out to me how unconditional the father’s love really is.
There is no sequel to this parable, but if there were, it would not include a
scene like this. Having forgiven his son on Monday, the father wakes up
on Tuesday and begins a lifetime of nagging his son – a lifetime of reminding
his son of how much he had forgiven him. On the contrary, the parable
assumes there will be no daily reminders of the ridiculous life his son had
led, because the father has moved on emotionally. He’s wiped the son’s
slate clean, but the father has also rid himself of any memory of
disappointment that could haunt him for the rest of his life. He counts
his blessings and leaves the burden of his son’s sins behind him.
And
so for the father this story of forgiveness is wonderfully liberating.
But it is liberating for the son too. For the son the reconciliation is
genuine. There is no burden of sin to contend with. There is the
joy of having a clean slate on which to write the next stage of his life, and
an appreciation of how generous his father had been. And while the
absence of a sequel to the parable lets us guess, I’d like to think that on
Tuesday the prodigal son starts his life all over – with a vengeance. We
have to assume that after forgiveness on Monday, he does not resume his old
ways on Tuesday. Instead, there is a genuine conversion experience.
He’s gotten another chance, and with forgiveness has come responsibility.
With his father’s forgiveness and love, he now can’t go back. His commitment
must be total and complete and be lived out every day. He must be a new
man, building on the gifts that were already there but never used before.
There’s
one other piece to the parable that makes it perfect for this vigil. At
the welcome home, after the son has repented and committed himself to a new
life, the father clothes him in a colorful robe. Whatever else that
robing accomplished, it most definitely was not meant to honor his son’s past
life. Rather, it was a sign to the son and to everyone else that
something important had taken place. He was the same old son, but he is a
new son, and acceptance of the robe is a sign of a covenant between the
repentant son and the loving father. The son cannot go back to the old
ways, because the robe is a reminder to everyone of the new responsibility that
the son accepts.
You
and I are repentant sons and daughters as we approach the altar this
afternoon. God is our loving father, and we know that his forgiveness is
complete. We should also know that if today we are the perfect and
aggrieved elder brother, then we don’t need the robe that symbolizes a change
of life. The robe is for those who need to repent; the robe is for those
who commit their lives in response to a loving father.
Shortly
you will each be clothed in the robe that is a sign of our recommitment to walk
in the steps of a loving father. As such, we are all prodigal sons and
daughters. But like the prodigal son, be sure of your willingness to make
the confession of sin to our loving Father; be sure of your willingness
to start life anew in a very special relationship with God; be sure that
you can accept the responsibility to live in this covenant you make with
God. The Lord invites us as a loving Father to confess, to amend our lives,
and to walk always in his paths. If we choose to do this, the Lord will
always walk with us.
