BE PRODIGAL

Reflections on the Fourth Sunday of Lent: Joshua 5:9a,10-12, 2 Corinthians 5:17-21, Luke 15:1-3,11-32

We know this Sunday’s gospel as the parable of the Prodigal Son and the title is self-explanatory. The word prodigal here means ‘one who dissipates his wealth in foolish spending’ and refers evidently to the younger son. However, the word also has a different meaning: ‘one who gives generously not counting the cost’. In this sense, the Father is 'prodigal' too. Interestingly, everyone in the parable complains except the father. The Pharisees and the scribes complain because Jesus welcomes sinners and dines with them. The younger son leaves his father possibly complaining about his lack of freedom.

The elder son complains about the father’s generous welcome to the returning prodigal son. While everyone in the story is complaining, negative, self-obsessed, and sad, the father is the only one who gives, rejoices, wants to celebrate a feast, and shares the joy of being together. The parable is as much about the story of the ‘prodigal younger son’ or the just anger of the ‘prodigal elder son’ as much as it is about the generous mercy of the ‘prodigal father’. This Sunday, we are invited to be prodigal like the father.

‘Give me my share of the inheritance’, demands the younger son. He is only entitled to a third, not being the eldest. The son’s demand for his portion of the inheritance carries out a sort of symbolic ‘murder’ of the father. In other words, by claiming his part of his estate, the young son had told his father, ‘You are dead to me’ or that he values his possession more than the love or life of his father. When his demand is granted, he leaves his father without the slightest sense of gratitude, taking with him this brand-new fortune.

In his travels ‘abroad’, this young Jew is permanently in the degrading state of ritual impurity. He associates himself with pagans, prostitutes, and finally pigs. Reduced to poverty, he is not even allowed to eat what's fed to the pigs. The ‘son’ is reduced to a sub-human and now thinks of returning to his ‘father’. Is the son truly repentant? His decision to return to his father seems more like a desperate response to the call of his belly than the hope of reconciliation. He hardly shows any sign of regret or filial love. He no longer sees himself as a son but as one of his father’s workers.

The eldest does not seem to behave like a good son either. He is hard-working but also seems vindictive. He proudly claims to have always been an obedient and helpful son. However, his motivations don’t seem perfect. “‘Look, all these years I served you and not once did I disobey your orders; yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my friends”. Maybe he saw himself more as a servant waiting his future share. He rejects his returning brother and addresses him not as ‘my brother’ but as ‘your son’. He refuses to enter his father's house, symbolically denying his ‘prodigal’ father and his own status as a son. And finally, he is full of resentment and bitterness beneath his shell of docile obedience. No more a loving son than his brother.

Then there's the father: an affectionate, tender, patient, and prodigal man. Rich but willing to give generously. His wish is for his two children to be brothers to each other. And above all, that they live. He passed on life and is still passing it on, because the youngest, who had died, lives again when he meets him, and the eldest, this unconscious person, is constantly sharing his life. This father is open to the joy of life and likes to feast. His ardent wish is to bring his sons into this same joy, this same bliss. He wants life, joy, and freedom for both of them.

We know all too well what it costs to be fraternal. In our own families and communities, it's not always easy. Still, the joy of fraternity is found in the finding of the lost one, the revival of the one who was dead, in joining the feast of reconciliation. It is made up of respect, and tolerance. It is illuminated by the conviction that we are all equal in dignity, all sons of the same Father, beyond our prodigal wanderings. As Christians, we cannot be grumpy, sullen, or bitter. God invites us to a ‘generously prodigal’ celebration of togetherness in our relationships. Be prodigal: not like the wayward younger son or the angry elder son but like the prodigal father who gives without counting and embraces without hesitating.