Fourth Sunday of Lent Year C

 Lectionary: 33

But now we must celebrate and rejoice,

because your brother was dead and has come to life again;

he was lost and has been found.'"

 T he Prodigal Son may be the most popular of all the Lord's parables, and the most important one for its depiction of God the Father as a merciful, long-suffering, and generous patriarch. The old man must surely have a full white beard and mild, kindly eyes which have seen much, understood much, and forgiven all. 

My friend, Father Howard Hansen, recognizing his alcoholism and turning his life and will over to the care of God, found in this parable a kindly God whom he could love, worship, and serve with all his heart. He was the lost soul who had not expected his God to embrace and kiss him with overflowing and healing love. As he told the story, the boy was restored to full sonship with all its rights and privileges. 

As the oldest son of a large family, I bring a charier eye to the story. I find myself in the resentful, suspicious elder; and see an alternate focal point. The silly old man speaks a different word to me. And his personal invitation to come in and join the party still challenges me. 

To me, it's a story of a dysfunctional family with neither a wife nor mother. The father of two unhappy sons is more merciful than wise. The older son seems to have little say in family affairs and resents it; the other is a wastrel fool. I wonder why the father immediately acceded to the kid's demand and surrendered his share of the family fortune to him. He surely knew nothing good would come of it. He could hardly be surprised at the boy's inevitable return, and his filthy, wasted condition. 

Didn't the universal gossip agree that he would come back empty-handed, pitiful, with shameless remorse and a story of shabby treatment? We can hear the servant's "I knew it!" in his report to the elder son, "Your brother has returned and your father has slaughtered the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound."

Upon his return the ne'er-do-well  has a well-rehearsed story of contriteness and resolve to amend his ways. He knows he should ask for nothing more than a servant's wages and position; which anyone else would know is out of the question. The old man's fool kid as one of the servants? I don't think so.

But, clearly, the fruit has not fallen far from the tree, for the father just as impetuously welcomes him back and calls for a celebration. He doesn't even listen to the kid's remorse, "Forget all that! Kill the fatted calf and let's party!" 

Has the boy changed? What are the odds? I don't think so. So where am I going with this? For me, the focal point of this story: "...we must celebrate and rejoice." 

Yes, we are a dysfunctional family, living in a dysfunctional church, nation, and world. We cannot fix it. As the missing mother might have said, "People don't change! A thief is a thief; a liar is a liar." We can hope that grace might someday fix this family. But in the meanwhile, we should celebrate and rejoice because God is good; we're still family and we still belong to one another; and God will restore us to full integrity in his time. 

Periodically, someone decides the Roman Catholic Church is beyond repair and the only solution is to start another church and begin again. We have a long history of these abortive schisms; they didn't begin with the "Protestant Reformation." Because sinners create and join the new project the reformed church proves no better than the original. If they're not starting a new church, they go off in search of another church with fewer or no problem members. Consumers especially like good preaching and good music; a food-obsessed nation wants to think it's being fed. 

The reformation and purification of the Church begins with penance. That is, with my recognition of where the problem begins. It's not them; it's me. Embracing my own guilt, I recognize and welcome my sinful sister and brother. And more importantly, because of my judgment and condemnation and wish to be separated from others, I am, as Saint Paul said, the worst of sinners. 

This saying is trustworthy and deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. Of these I am the foremost.

But for that reason I was mercifully treated, so that in me, as the foremost, Christ Jesus might display all his patience as an example for those who would come to believe in him for everlasting life.

When Jesus was baptized and when he took up his cross, he took a place among sinners. If it was not his place, he made it his place. If  he does not belong among sinners, he is nonetheless the only leader who can lead us on the way of penance. We cannot be saved unless we walk with him, acknowledging not only our own particular sins but our sinfulness as a Church, nation, and people.  

We have sinned, been wicked and done evil; we have rebelled and turned from your commandments and your laws. We have not obeyed your servants the prophets, who spoke in your name to our kings, our princes, our ancestors, and all the people of the land.

Justice, O Lord, is on your side; we are shamefaced even to this day: the men of Judah, the residents of Jerusalem, and all Israel, near and far, in all the lands to which you have scattered them because of their treachery toward you.O LORD, we are ashamed, like our kings, our princes, and our ancestors, for having sinned against you. Daniel 9:5-8

The Bible graphically describes the sins of God's people before, during, and after the saving work of Jesus. We have no excuse. We have seen the Mighty Works of God both in Salvation History in our personal lives. We know God's compassion for sinners but we have preferred to meditate on our righteousness. 

The season of Lent insists that we walk with Christ and bear with him the sins of all the world. We are saved because we are sinners.