The context of our first reading is important. Under the leadership of Joshua, the children of Israel have miraculously crossed over the Jordan River. The days of their desert wanderings are over. They are about to take possession of their homeland. The manna ceases to fall, since it is no longer necessary. Manna is the food of wandering exiles; the children of Israel have entered the metaphorical land of milk and honey. "The Israelites fed from that year onwards on what the land of Cannan yielded."

Luke's gospel relates a more famous homecoming: that of the Prodigal Son. So famous is this story that its vocabulary is common currency. It is a brilliantly crafted story with a strong element of human interest. There is no human being alive who could not identify with the emotions and sentiments involved in the story. It is worth noting its context: Jesus was not so much proclaiming his message as defending it against the attacks of the Scribes and the Pharisees. "This man welcomes sinners and eats with them", they complained. The parable is a response to this charge. It is a defense of God's scandalous love for sinners.

This parable is made up of three principal elements: the Prodigal Son's free decision to go into exile and his disillusionment with that experience; the eagerness of his father to restore him to his family and the unconfined joy on his return; and the mean-minded reaction of the law abiding, elder son.

The principal actor in the first part of the parable is the younger son, the sinner. In his character Everyman is mirrored. Fired by a longing for excitement and adventure, by the conviction that faraway hills are green, he packs his bags and flies the nest. His father makes no effort to dissuade him. God gives the sinner space. Like many adventurers before and since, his new-found liberty goes to his head. He abandons the constraints of his religion and his background, and he gives himself up to a life of reckless debauchery. But the good times do not last. He is soon impoverished and brought low. He goes through a period of starvation and humiliation. Then, Luke tells us, "he comes to his senses." It is not primarily his sinful life that brought him to his senses, but its disastrous consequences. The very thought of what he has thrown away stops him in his tracks. He makes his decision. He will return to his father, but on new terms. He will return as a servant, not as a son. The guilt of his past clings to him like a second skin.

The second part of the story is dominated by the father. He has obviously been looking out for his son, scanning the horizon in expectation of his return. He sees him in the distance and is moved with pity. He throws convention to the wind, runs to greet his son, clasps him in his arms and kisses him tenderly. The father's acceptance of his errant son is entirely unconditional. No questions are asked about his behaviour abroad. No promises are extracted from him concerning his future behaviour. The novelty soon wears off; he is quickly disillusioned and his decision to return home born of bitterness and anguish. The unexpected forgiveness offered by the father is the new thing revealed about God by Jesus. Indeed the love of the father leaves him open to charges of being foolish and silly by the elder son, that stuffy representative of sober, law-abiding humanity.

The purpose of this parable is to state the fundamental principle of God's dealing with sinners. The sinner is loved even before he can repent. He is never cut off. The sinner is always in the mind of the father. And when he does repent, God restores him to his own family. Jesus says to his critics that he consorts with sinners precisely because God is a loving father who welcomes the repentant sinner. He claims that in him God's love for the sinner is made actual. Everything hinges on the initiative of the father. His goodness spans both halves of the parable. He acts as if nothing ever happened to come between him and his sons. Ultimately, it is the elder son who keeps himself at a distance, who cuts himself off. He fails to understand the language of love.

The father summons his elder son to abandon this aloofness, to share the joy of the family table. He restores the younger to this joy as a free gift. Jesus is calling ourselves, his followers, to this same fellowship of joy; he yearns for us to accept his welcoming invitation. The father of the parable is he who loves, who takes the initiative, who is prodigal of love. And can we not say that the prodigal too (in contrast to his brother) is the one who knows the reality of love? He knew love's pain in remembering a father who had never cast him off; he trusted in that love, and he returned. This is the experience of all sinners, of all Christians.


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