While he was still a long way of, his father caught sight of him, and was filled with compassion. He ran to his son, embraced him and kissed him.
– Luke 15:20
“The Prodigal Son, by Liz Lemon Swindle
We all know the story of the Prodigal Son. It is (as Msgr. Charles Pope says here) almost “overly familiar”.
At mass today Fr. Dyspeptic -my favorite homilist, because he is scholarly but witty, and always blessedly brief- suggested that it is easy for us to identify with either of the sons, the prodigal or the ignored-feeling obedientiary, who has toiled in his father’s field, “but the story is not about either of them. It’s about the father.
The father who created you in his image, and loved you enough to give you free will; the father who steps out daily and casts his eyes upon the horizon, looking for you to come back. The father who “does not allow cultures or conventions to dictate his responses,” but who -when he sees you returning- cannot hold himself back, but instead runs to meet you and pulls you into his embrace, and blesses you.
The father who says “come back. I am here. I am waiting for you to return.”
Fr. Dyspeptic is not a parent, obviously, but he understands the unconditional and very vulnerable love of the parent. He understands that God -our divine and mystical parent- shares with human parents this endless longing to have our children near, even as we face their grown-up choices. Our children do not stay with us; they leave the nest. They develop their own sensibilities, sometimes in direct contrast to our own. Even if they are near, they distance themselves, and that is normal, and healthy; they need to discover for themselves all they do not know.
But we miss them. And we fret that even though we’ve taught them to swim, they may be facing more dangerous currents than they can handle, have moved too far from the safe shore. We toss and turn on wet pillows some nights, wishing them well, hoping they’ll be borne back on the tide, and land at our doors. We pray for them, and in the wee small hours we talk to photographs of their six-year old, smiling faces, and we say, “You are far away from us; you’ve chosen a distant path, but I will not give up on you. You are forever my beloved child.”
And God is sharing in that, on a meta-level. “Even now, says the Lord, return to me with your whole heart…”
This is not the first time we have seen the Almighty God consenting to be vulnerable, out of love, to his own Creation, and the people of his covenant:
God yielded to Israel’s obstinacy.
This is remarkable, almost reckless love. This is a love so all-in-all, so unconditional, that it is willing to be not just vulnerable, but almost -by human standards- foolish in its boundless unconditional reality. Look at the profundity of God’s love for His people, Israel, and for those of us grafted onto their branch. . . . God takes pity on human limitations and tries another way of teaching and reaching; a better way to know the transcendence. He says, in essence:
“My love and my law are not enough? You need a corporeal king? Alright then, I will come down and be your corporeal king. I will teach you what I know -that love serves, and that a king is a servant- and I will teach you how to be a servant in order to share in my kingship. In this way, we shall be one -as a husband and wife are one- as nearly as this may be possible between what is Whole and Holy, and what is Broken. For your sake, I will become broken, too, but in a way meant to render you more Whole, and Holy, so that our love may be mutual, complete, constantly renewed and alive. I love you so much that I will Incarnate, and surrender myself to you. I will enter into you (stubborn, faulty, incomplete you, adored you, the you that can never fully know or love me back) and I will give you my whole body. I will give you all of myself, unto my very blood, and then it will finally be consummated between us, and you will understand that I have been not just your God, but your lover, your espoused, your bridegroom. Come to me, and let me love you. Be my bride; accept your bridegroom and let the scent and sense of our love course over and through the whole world through the church I beget to you. I am your God; you are my people. I am your bridegroom; you are my bride. This is the great love story, the great intercourse, the great espousal, and you cannot imagine where I mean to take you, if you will only be faithful . . . as I am always faithful.”
This God of Abraham, this King, this One who Ravishes will give us anything, if we only trust, even though we do not understand -will never understand- what it is he has in mind for us. We have never understood. We have never been faithful.
We have never been faithful. We are the perpetually adolescent children, even in our old age, of the God who Is Unconditional Love.
The God who puts each new day forward, eager to reconcile, and awaiting our return.
Related:
Benedict XVI: We Contemplate the Father’s Heart in the Parable
I am so glad you blogged on this Anchoress. For some reason my parish chose the alternate Gospel reading (the blind man seeing parable in Luke) and not the Prodigal Son. But I read it in the missal before mass started and it’s very fresh in my mind.
This parable is one of the pillars I rested my argument on universal salvation back in one of your last week’s blogs: link.
“This is remarkable, almost reckless love. This is a love so all-in-all, so unconditional, that it is willing to be not just vulnerable, but almost -by human standards- foolish in its boundless unconditional reality. Look at the profundity of God’s love for His people, Israel, and for those of us grafted onto their branch. . . . God takes pity on human limitations and tries another way of teaching and reaching; a better way to know the transcendence.”
Yes, God Himself is the father in the parable, and His love too is boundless and unconditional, so boundless that even if the biblically stated fate is eternal damnation, His infinite mercy, His infinite love for all His children will relent and welcome even the worst sinner home. Of course there will be punishment, there will be justice, but there will be compassion and mercy. Remember the scene of Jesus being scourged in The Passion of the Christ, and how relentless it was. In essence that experience is hell, and a loving God has to be moved to any sinner, any of His children, facing such suffering, whether they deserved it or not. If He isn’t, He will be doing the same thing as the crucifiers. He would have no compassion, no mercy.
Anyway, that is how I see it, how I reflect upon the merciful heart of Jesus. And by the way, I identify with the dutiful son in the parable. In fact, to my shame I’ve made the same complaints to my parents as the dutiful son does. That is not to say that my siblings are prodigal, but the responsibility part is somewhat lopsided.
Since we are now into art criticism, (see here), there is something that bothers me about the Swindle painting — there seems to be a hint of sadness and anguish in the father’s face, as if he had despaired of ever seeing his son again, hence the tears.
But the father represents The Father, who knowing all things, knew all along that the son would eventually wise up, have conversion of heart, repent, and come home – no despair there. Thus, I would expect a smiling father.
Now, to the extent the father represents us as well, perhaps that look might be understandable.
…”I will not give up on you. You are forever my beloved child.”
Thanks for posting this – our daughter has turned into the prodigal girl and the waiting/praying is agonizing at times.
[I'm sorry to hear it, Ginny; I will pray for you and her. -admin]
[...] The Anchoress – The Father Scanning the Horizon [...]
Thanks very much for this post, Anchoress.
Our priest gave a good homily yesterday, making the same point about “The Prodigal Son” really being about the father, but your perspective as a parent really socked me in the gut.
It especially hits home now as we are trying to scrape together the necessary funds to pay for our oldest son’s college and set him up in his own apartment, which he really, really wants after growing up sharing a bedroom with two brothers.
Then today I called in late to work so I could walk our youngest son to Kindergarten one last time before he starts elementary school next month and no longer needs parental accompaniment (the school year runs from April to March here in Japan).
Many transitions and calls to further sacrifice. Regret for not having been more there for the children. They grow up and away, and as you say that’s inevitable and necessary even when relations are good. I’ll watch the horizon and pray, and trust that no matter how far away, they are always in the heart of a far better Father than me.
I was once the prodigal girl, but all praise to Jesus, he did not leave me in that state. He is faithful to bring wayward children home. I also will pray for the poster’s daughter.
Just thought I’d add a reference to Rembrandt’s “Return of the Prodigal Son” (c. 1662) in the Hermitage. In my mind, one of the most profound paintings ever created.
link
Unconditional Love???
Where is that in Scripture, Tradition, or Church documets?
However, all these documents speak of
r e p e n t a n c e first and formost. Surely you don’t thing you have discovered something new that will bypass these documents?
Plese provide references — not just nice words.
[Wow. Really? R E P E N T A N C E? What a freaking concept! I had no idea! That's like...so MIND BLOWING. Thank you for clearing it up for me! I've never written a damn word about r e p e n t a n c e on this blog! I can't believe the whole concept escaped me, even while I was reading the Gospel and understanding the r e p e n t a n c e of the prodigal son, and the...ummm...oh, wow...the unconditional love of the father. What, you don't like those words? You can't find them in scripture? Aw. You can't find the words "trinity" or "incarnation" in scripture, either. Gosh. They mustn't exist then.
-admin]
In our lives, we sometimes are in the role of the younger son, sometimes in the role of the older son, and (I’m in my seventies, now) sometimes in the role of the praying father, asking the Lord to move the hearts of those who in their young adult years, are not following the faith that they learned as children. God does wait for our return; but he respects the Free Will that He gave to each of us.
Despite the number of times I have heard this parable, it never fails to move me.
TeaPot562
[...] The Father Scanning the Horizon (firstthings.com) [...]
I love the Pope’s explanation of the parable. Thanks for adding that at the bottom. Certainly worth reading. Yes as the dutiful son, I am too am being sinful and thankfully God has mercy on my immaturity.