LENT IV (C): JOSH 5:9, 10-12; IICOR. 5: 17-21; LK 15:1-3, 11-32

The agony that we experience when we lose something is very great. In 2004 the Earthquake in the Indian Ocean washed off the shores of India. Thousands of people were found missing. It was a common sight on the beaches, that mothers were  looking for their sons, wives were waiting for the return of their husbands; and fathers were frantically searching for the life beat of their children. All waited in eager expectation that the lost ones would come back. The expectations of some were realized, and others continued indefinitely.  And many miracles happened.  The missing people returned after days and weeks. Jesus gives a more touching story of the “home coming” of a son, and the joy of the father on receiving the lost son.

It is difficult for us to see something new in the parable of the Prodigal son. We have heard the story so many times we believe that we have squeezed it dry of meaning. When we hear the opening words of the parable once again, "And there was a Father who had two sons," we greet the words with ho-hum. Heard it. Heard it. Heard it.

Today I would like for us to re-examine this familiar story from a different angle. Usually when we read the Bible, we basically think we are spectators looking out of a window at something that is happening out there to others. But when we think of reading the Bible as more like looking into a mirror, when we too are very much in the picture we are caught up and involved in the story. We can assume the role of any one of the characters.

It is primarily the story of the Father, though it is kind of named as the parable of the prodigal son. It is the Father who showed prodigality with the riches he had. He lavishes his wealth on the squanderer when he came back. If he did not accept him as his son, or accepted him just as one of his hired servants he would have been a normal, unexceptional father. That is what the world and society would expect from a normal father. But he is the heavenly Father who accepts the sinner unconditionally.

 The father promptly forgave him, kissed him on the cheeks, and healed the broken relationship between them.  He ordered a bath for his son, gave him new garments and a golden signet ring (sign of authority and trust).  By ordering sandals for the feet of his son, the father signaled his reacceptance of his son. The killing the fatted calf, specially raised for the Passover feast, meant that the entire village was invited for the grand party given in the returned son’s honor. He doesn’t even allow the son to make his full confession of sins. He was so busy getting the celebration started that he did not listen to any of the apology of his son. God is so forgiving that he doesn’t raise any accusing finger on us sinners.

There is a story about a woman who had upset her pastor because she claimed that she had conversations with God. She had attracted quite a following in the church and every day people gathered at her house, got on their knees, prayed, and listened to her describe what God was saying to her.

The pastor thought all this was getting out of hand, so he went to visit her. "I know you say you are talking with God," he said, "but what you hear is your imagination talking back at you. Just to prove it, I want you to ask God to name three of the sins that I confessed this morning. Then tell me what God said. If you can name those sins, I'll believe that you really are talking with God." The woman sat there for a long while, praying. Then she looked up and said, "I asked God to name your three sins, but God said, 'I forgot.'"

God doesn’t keep an account of our sins. He says: Even though your sins are like scarlet, they'll be white like snow. Though they're like crimson, they'll become like wool. (Is.1:18).

It is God who takes the initiative in restoring our relationship,  not us. It is God who finds us, not we finding him. Before the younger son spotted the Father, the Father spotted him and ran to him and embraced him. It is the classical prototypical Christian experience: I once was lost and now am found”. Our job is to allow God to disentangle us from our mess from which we cannot get ourselves out. If we could save ourselves from our sins Jesus would not have to come to save us.

The sign seen in a textile mill was: "When your thread becomes tangled, call the foreman." A young woman was new on the job. Her thread became tangled and she thought, "I'll just straighten this out myself." She tried, but the situation only worsened. Finally she called the foreman. "I did the best I could," she said. "No you didn't. To do the best, you should have called me."  Do we call God to do our best, before we make a more mess of it…?

Let's step back outside with the older brother, for a while, still in need of a shower, standing there with pouted lips. The elder son had no feelings of sympathy for his brother.  He was resentful, bitter and angry.  He cannot even bring himself to acknowledge his brother with a name -- "this son of yours." He was so jealous of his younger brother that he never wanted to see him again. In fact he bonded with the Father only after his younger brother left home.  Instead of honoring his father by joining him in accepting his brother and playing an appropriate role at the meal, the elder son publicly insulted and humiliated his father (vv. 28-30).  

We are much like the elder brother who preferred justice to mercy. We have earned God's favor (or so we think) by "staying at home." We have merited his acceptance by the good life that we live. So how dare God receive and accept our sinful brother who has returned home saying he's sorry.

So where are we at parable's end? Are we inside the party celebrating? Or are we standing outside with our arms folded, refusing to come in? The father passionately invites the older son inside, "pleads with him" to join in the welcome. Curiously, however, we are never told what the older brother decides to do. The story ends but it doesn't end. In a world where God does not play fair, this parable forces us to make a choice.

We are all sinners. Whether your sins are more visible like those of the younger son or more hidden like those of the elder son, the message for us today is that we all need to repent and return to the father's house. The younger son needs to turn back from his frivolous lifestyle and return to the father's house and be a responsible and obedient son. The elder son needs to turn back from anger and resentment and learn to share the house with the apparently undeserving younger brother.

Lent is a time to "pass over," from a world of sin to a world of reconciliation. The story of the prodigal son asks each of us an important question: Will you accept the Father's   forgiveness and partake of the banquet, or will you remain outside?   The message of Lent, therefore, as St. Paul tells us, is:  “We implore you, in Christ’s name: be reconciled to God."  The first step, of course, is to do as the younger son did: "When he came to himself, he said: 'I will break away and return to my father, and say to him, "Father, I have sinned against you." Am I still in pigsty feeding pigs ? Have I come to my senses ?