IV Sunday Of Lent Year C
Readings: Jas 3:9.10-12; 2 Cor 3:17-21; Lk 15:1-3.11-32
In this what has been called “the pearl of parables,” Lord, of “prodigal” there is only You. Prodigal of forgiveness, of mercy, of tenderness, of Love.
From the very beginning, You baffle us with Your attitude of love: when Your second son tells You that he wants to leave home, You refuse to even inquire about his plans, his intentions. And when he leaves, you don’t utter any threats, you don’t issue any excommunication. You don’t say to him the classic, “Look, if you go out that door….!”: you leave your heart open to him. The son, having come to the bottom of his abjection, will be precisely drawn to the sweetness of your home, even if he hopes to re-enter it at best as a servant. And he will not return because he is repentant, but out of interest, out of sheer necessity: “I am starving here!”(15:17). He will think to use and exploit you once again.
But you scanned the horizon every day hoping for his return. You spent your days waiting for him. And because of this, “while he was still far away” (15:20), you saw him, and you were deeply “moved,” you wept with joy, and you began to run toward him (15:20). For the Eastern culture, anyone who exercises authority, who starts running, loses his honorability (Sir 19:27; Pr 19:2). Moreover, the son is a swine-keeper; he is unclean. Well, you throw yourself at his neck anyway. You agree to lose face and become unclean yourself in order to impart life to him.
And when the son begins to recite the formula of repentance that he had previously worked out, you do not let him finish, mad with joy: ”This son of mine was dead, and has risen again! He was lost, and he has been found!” (Lk 15:24). You make us understand that the most useless thing is to apologize to you: never does Jesus in the Gospels invite you to ask for forgiveness, because you never feel offended. You bestow your love on everyone, regardless of our conduct.
Then, O Lord, you perform a series of actions that leave us truly astonished. The dissolute son is also immediately reinstated in all his former rights, with a true rite of investiture, through three symbols: the robe, the sign of dignity; the ring on his finger, that is, the seal, with which he can perform all legal and administrative acts; and the shoes, the sign of filial adoption (Deut. 25:7-10).
Your eldest son’s reaction is well understandable, as he sees the remaining capital now divided into two, and that he, ever dutiful in work and obedience, will now only get a quarter of the initial assets. But Your logic is not that of human justice: it is that of Love, of unconditional forgiveness, of absolute grace.
And You will be a model of Love even toward the prissy, vigilante son. You take the first step, stepping out to meet him; moreover, You, who had made no discourse to the younger son when he wanted to leave, now plead, entreat (parekàlei: 15:28) the firstborn son to recede from his stiff-neckedness.
We are astounded by your Mercy, which goes against our idea of Justice. But we need not worry about anything, O Lord, for, as the First Reading tells us (Jas 3:9,10-12), you always satisfy us with the manna of your Love and Providence,
Lord, help us to be converted: let us move from an idea of You as an exacting and vindictive controller, to one of a God who judges no one, but always forgives, excuses, welcomes, loves. Help us to walk from a religiosity made up of observance to prescriptions toward a Faith in a God Mercy who freely saves all.
And grant that we may truly be for all “ambassadors of your Mercy, as if you were exhorting through us…, entrusting to us the ministry of reconciliation” (Second Reading: 2 Cor. 3:17-21).
Thank you, O Father, for being so wonderfully “prodigal” toward us!