The Sunday of the Prodigal Son

Having foolishly abandoned Thy paternal glory, I squandered on vices the wealth which Thou gavest me. Wherefore, I cry unto Thee with the voice of the Prodigal: I have sinned before Thee, O compassionate Father. Receive me as one repentant, and make me as one of Thy hired servants. (Kontakion Of The Sunday of The  Prodigal Son).

This Sunday, that of the Prodigal Son (or, as it is now sometimes called, the Forgiving Father), the Byzantine Calendar highlights the theme of the forgiving love of God to counter the necessary penance and self-judgment established the week before. The two go hand in hand. They tell us two sides of the same eschatological story: mercy can be attained only through judgment, but if one does not accept such judgment and repent, there is no room left for that mercy. When dealing with sin, the focus should always be on our own; when dealing with mercy, the focus should be on the universal love of God for all. Yet you cannot have one without the other, and so you cannot describe God’s love without describing how we have wounded it, and you cannot describe sin without explaining the hope of restoration which God offers to those who repent.[1]

There are three major characters within the story of the Prodigal Son: that of the father and his two sons, one who seemingly abandoned him for a life of luxury, and one which stayed with him, both with a sense of duty towards him, but also, apparently, with the hope that he will be well rewarded for that loyalty. As with the Publican and the Pharisee, most of us know examples where we have experienced the feelings of each within the context of each, although the liturgical focus, as with the moral of the story itself, is primarily upon the similarity between our lives with the prodigal son, and the similarity between God with the father. But it is because we can and do experience all three aspects of this story in our relationship with others (it doesn’t have to be a family relationship), we can understand the motivation of each, and so learn not only the lesson of the prodigal son, but also of the elder child, so as not to fall for his mistake (and we can, of course, learn a lesson  from the loving father as well, so as to be like him, and rejoice when we find people coming back to us after having abandoned us in the past).

And he said, ‘There was a man who had two sons; and the younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of property that falls to me.’ And he divided his living between them. Not many days later, the younger son gathered all he had and took his journey into a far country, and there he squandered his property in loose living.

And when he had spent everything, a great famine arose in that country, and he began to be in want. So he went and joined himself to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would gladly have fed on the pods that the swine ate; and no one gave him anything. But when he came to himself he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have bread enough and to spare, but I perish here with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me as one of your hired servants.”‘ (Lk 15:11- 19)

All three characters of the parable are introduced, although for the most part, we are shown the prodigal son, and introduced to his attitude in life. Before his father is even dead, he asks for his legacy; in this way, one can see that the prodigal son is telling his father, “I don’t care about you. All I want is to enjoy my life, and that’s not possible as long as you are still here. If you had died, I would be having a good life. But you can help me out. Give me everything I am going to get, and I will leave; you won’t have to see me again, and I won’t have to see you again. It will be, for me, as if you had died. I promise I won’t stay around here and cause you any more grief. Indeed, it will be for you that I am the one who is dead.”  The father, who loves his son, gives that which he was asked, although one can only guess the sorrow he must have for being put in such a situation.

Of course, this story is one with a meaning, and it is one with a meaning for ourselves and our own lives. We are to see ourselves in the position of the prodigal son. How, exactly, can we do this? In many ways, three of which we will pursue here. The primary, and normative interpretation, is that this story is about us personally, showing us how our sins, which come out of inordinate desire, lead us to seek pleasure in the world only for ourselves, and ourselves alone. We will contend against anyone who gets in our way, anyone who prevents us from doing that which we think will bring us happiness. This was expressed here by the son’s reaction to his father (which would be a great shock to Jesus’ listeners, where family had greater prominence in one’s life than we find today). But, following St Paul’s understanding of the relationship between Israel and the Gentiles (cf. Rom 9:1-13), we could look at it as a story of the Gentiles, and how they fell away from God in a way their elder brother, Israel, did not (or, in reverse, how the Gentiles are now with Christ, and the Jews, who should have known their messiah, abandoned him). Finally, we could look at this as the story of all humanity, and the elder brother would be God’s angels. In all three cases, it is important to see how Jesus presents the outcome such that it would be true of individual or communal sin: we might, for a time, experienced great pleasure, and feel as if our way of life has been validated, but, as we have probably already have experienced in part, that the outcome of such an egoistical approach to life can only end in our own suffering. The promises our inordinate desires give to us do not pan out. And, look at how Jesus portrayed the fall from grace that such livelihood produces: the prodigal son is treated worse than swine, which, for Jesus’ listeners, would have had a far greater shock value than it does to us, because of how Jewish purity laws led the Jews to view pigs. The prodigal son had become the lowest of the low, a slave to the needs of swine, the impurity of his way of life made manifest by this; and so we, in our sins, can see the sins themselves to be our swine, whether or not we look at this story personally or collectively. Seeing the horror of the situation and how he got there, the prodigal in his heart repents, and wants to return to his father, not as a son, but as a hired servant, feeling not worthy of any other status.

And he arose and came to his father. But while he was yet at a distance, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his servants, ‘Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet; and bring the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and make merry; for this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.’ And they began to make merry. (Luke 15:20 – 24).

What real joy and merriment we see here instead of the pseudo-joy we initially find when we embrace sin. Whether we examine this story primarily as the story of an individual soul as it returns to God, or that of the restoration of the Gentiles to God’s graces, or as the return of the human race to God in the Second Adam, Christ, we must see the attitude of the father in each as the what analogous to what God “feels” when we return to him. We exalted ourselves and became spiritually dead through sin; God bring us back to life, restores us to our spiritual wellbeing, when we overcome ourselves and approach him in all humility (which is the only way we can be if we feel any sorrow or grief over our sins). “For every one who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted” (Lk. 14:11). “But the consummation of grief resembles the moment when the heavenly Father runs out to meet him and embrace him. And when the son finds himself accepted with such inexpressible compassion and on account of it is filled with great joy and boldness, he receives the Father’s embrace and embraces Him in return.”[2] What Palamas shows us must not be forgotten: it is not merely the son’s humility, but love of the father for his son which allows the son to return to him, and to know true love in that embrace from his father. Once he humbled himself enough to approach his father, he was able to receive the love which his father wanted for him. Thus, the soul, the Gentile (or the Jew), and humanity, all, if they humble themselves enough to properly approach God, they will find God’s everlasting love embracing them, which will bring them into the family of God.

“Now his elder son was in the field; and as he came and drew near to the house, he heard music and dancing. And he called one of the servants and asked what this meant. And he said to him, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has received him safe and sound.’ But he was angry and refused to go in. His father came out and entreated him, but he answered his father, ‘Lo, these many years I have served you, and I never disobeyed your command; yet you never gave me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends.  But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your living with harlots, you killed for him the fatted calf!’ And he said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to make merry and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.’ (Luke 15:25-32)

Having established the way we have abandoned God, and the loving embrace God is willing to have for us if we return to him, we are now given another lesson: the error of envy. We should rejoice with the salvation of others, of God’s embrace of them, of whatever gifts he bestows upon them, and never look at it as an affront to ourselves. Humanly speaking, it is understandable why people would feel upset if they see someone who, apparently left and did all kinds of evil things comes back to God and apparently gets rewarded by him: we feel we much has been asked of us by God, and, despite our desires, we did as God asked. Why, then, do we apparently get nothing for our loyalty? Why do we see someone else, someone who was so far away from God, get that which we feel should be ours? Indeed, they seem to have a double-reward. They did what we wanted to do, they got to enjoy themselves, and then, at their point of return, they got to enjoy God’s good graces, some which we never experienced for ourselves.  It’s one thing to welcome them but, but it is another to see them rewarded while we remain – unchanged. But, if we explore this further, we should see that the problem is that here, our heart is the one which is wicked. It should rejoice in the fact that God, in his abundant bounty, has much he can share with all; we should not want it all for ourselves. Thus, we feel, if we couldn’t enjoy the luxuries of the world like the prodigal son, we should at least enjoy the graces of God in a special way. But here is the question: have we, with such an attitude, really been different from the prodigal son? Our actions might be right, but they are right for the wrong reason: it is not out of love. And in such a situation, while seemingly close to God in action, our heart is ever so distant from him. When we find this attitude in our heart, we also need to repent and return to God, just as one could say, the prodigal son’s brother needs to in this story. “To the extent that this brother, too sure of himself and his own good qualities, jealous and haughty, full of bitterness and anger, is not converted and is not reconciled with his father and brother, the banquet is not yet fully the celebration of a reunion and rediscovery.”[3]

It is envy, mixed with pride, which must be addressed and countered whenever we find these thoughts within ourselves; otherwise, such envy will fester and end up destroying our souls. “What could be more fatal than this disease? It ruins our life, perverts our nature, arouses hatred of the goods bestowed on us by God, and places us in a hostile relation toward Him. Who drove the Devil, the author of evils, to wage furious war upon mankind? Was it not envy? Because of envy, too, he was guilty even of open conflict with God.”[4] In all probability, most, if not all of us, have to deal not only with the temptation of envy, but envy itself, because, from time to time, we will be the “good son” whose heart is not yet entirely pure.

When we look at the possible interpretations we have been using to understand this parable (personal, Jew/Gentile, angels/humanity), we can see how we experience both the position of the prodigal son and of his elder brother in our lives. Looked upon the situation personally, we are at times the one who has repented and feel our brethren has not properly welcomed us back, while at other times, we see someone else who has repented and we do not welcome them back, but instead, feel some hostility towards them for all the attention they are receiving. Looking at the relationship between Jews and Gentiles, we can see how both can apply, once again, to either the Jews or the Gentiles. In one instance, the Jews would be the “elder son” who preserved their standing with God (in the covenant with Moses), and the Gentiles, having only recently come to God, appear to be the ones who have taken all the gifts from God, including the ones some Jews thought were theirs alone.[5] But, the reverse can also be seen, from the view of ecclesial history, where the Gentiles for the most part are those who remained with God through Christ in the new covenant, while the Jews, having rejected Christ, can be said to have “sold their birth right;” but the Jews, it has been said, will come back and “all Israel will be saved.”[6] Neither the Jew nor the Gentile should feel either envy or superiority to each other; rather, both should see that God’s love is open to them, and gives to each a unique character, not only for their own good, but also for the manifestation of God’s greater glory. Such envy, of course, is not just found between Jews and Gentile, but among the fallen angels for humanity. As St Basil related, it was his envy of humanity and of God which caused Satan to wage war against both. For humanity, created lower than the angels, is given a great destiny because of the incarnation; Satan, the highest of the angels, could not understand or appreciate this – and so, in a fit of envy, fell from such great heights and became the pathetic entity he is today. Let us not, in turn, envy the angels for the glories given to them, but rather, let us glorify God for what he has given to them, not only for their good, but for his own glory, less we, too, shall fall like Satan and find ourselves in a never-ending pit of despair.

Footnotes 

[1] Hans Urs von Balthasar puts this well in so many texts, such as what we find here, from the fourth volume of the Theo-Drama, when he points out we must, in our judgment, be crucified with Christ in order to experience the forgiving grace of the resurrection: “The sinner’s first decisive encounter with the all-penetrating light of Christ is both things at once: a crucifying light and a liberation summons to come forth from darkness. In the sacrament of penance, which places the sinner in the spotlight of judgment, the pain of exposure to the two-edged sword of God’s word, which ‘pierces to the division of soul and spirit’ (Heb 4:12f), is the precondition for the Easter absolution. Thus, in the penitential scene with the Samaritan woman, she is both humbled and liberated. Thus Paul is blinded and cast down by the light from heaven – heretofore all was error! – but at the same time he is pointed toward a new, risen existence as a ‘chosen vessel’ (Acts 9:3ff).” Hans Urs von Balthasar, Theo-Drama IV: The Action. trans. Graham Harrison (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1994), 386.
[2] St Gregory Palamas, “To the Most Reverend Nun Xenia,” pgs. 293 – 322 in The Philokalia: The Complete Text. Volume IV. Trans. G.E.H. Palmer, Phillip Sherrard and Kallistos Ware (London: Faber and Faber, 1995), 322.
[3] Pope John Paul II, Reconciliatio et paenitentia. Vatican Translation. (Rome, 1984), 6.
[4] St. Basil, “Concerning Envy,” pg. 463 – 474 of St. Basil: Ascetical Works. trans. Sister M. Monica Wagner (NY: Fathers of the Church, Inc., 1959), 465.
[5] Gentiles should remember, however, that even if the elder son was in error to be envious of his younger brother. the older was told he was the primary heir of the father.
[6] “Lest you be wise in your own conceits, I want you to understand this mystery, brethren: a hardening has come upon part of Israel, until the full number of the Gentiles come in, and so all Israel will be saved; as it is written, ‘The Deliverer will come from Zion, he will banish ungodliness from Jacob’; ‘and this will be my covenant with them when I take away their sins‘” (Rm. 11:25-27).