As I was thinking about
this morning's gospel, it struck me at one point that this is—the first part of
the story, anyway—a little bit of Sinatra gone wrong, because the
young man wanted to do things
his
way, and it didn't matter whether it was right or wrong, it didn't
matter whether it went against everything he had been taught from his
childhood. He wanted to do things his
way. He asked for his share of the inheritance, something that today
would seem out of place—in most places—but it was basically
unheard-of in the society at the time, but he wanted to have things
his way. He wanted to have the money; he wanted to go and live
whichever way he thought he would enjoy, again, whether it was right
or wrong, it didn't matter.
And at
some point, the gospel tells us that the money ran out, that there
was a famine in the country, and he basically ran out of food. Still,
at that point, for a while it was more important that he do things
his way than to do things the right way. So he continued. He found a
job, so to speak, where he probably became a servant to someone
wherever he
had
gone who had work, who
had pigs, and, again, if we think about the context of the story, in
Israel pigs are an unclean animal; they're not supposed to be eaten,
touched: you become unclean by the law of the Old Testament. So even
that didn't matter. He was on his own, doing things the way he
wanted.
Thankfully,
the gospel tells us that he came to himself, so, in a way, he came to
his senses, and realized that that was not the most important thing.
And that can be a difficult lesson for us to learn because,
especially in the United States, the idea of the Lone Ranger, the
cowboy who takes the law into his own hands and makes everything
right on his own, is part of the mythology of the land. Of course, we
have examples these days, people who are admired who basically
started from nothing and pulled themselves by their own bootstraps
and have "made it" in whatever field that may be, and we
tend to glorify such people.
So it
is difficult to come to ourselves, to come to our senses, to realize
that in the end doing things our way is not the most important thing.
Now, sometimes, it may be—there are circumstances, there have been
circumstances in history—when one person was right and everybody
else was wrong, and thank God, that one person stood up for what was
right and defended his beliefs and lived by his own code of
beliefs—although it should be said that in the cases that relate to
the Church, that person still
thought what he believed was
the proper faith of the Church.
I was
reading this week about the life of St. Maximus the Confessor, whom
we commemorated a couple of weeks ago, who defended the way he
understood our faith: who Christ was, as fully God and fully man, and
that meant that he had everything that a human being had, including a
human will. Without getting into all the technicalities of theology,
when St. Maximus lived, the Eastern Roman Empire (the Byzantine
Empire) and the Christian Church were closely intertwined, so if
there was a dissension within the Church, it destabilized the life of
the empire, the political life.
And
the emperor was not very happy about that sort of thing, so he tried
to have St. Maximus disavow the things he had taught, or even just
said: Don't disavow; just don't talk about it. And St. Maximus said:
No, I cannot do that. I believe that I stand in an unbroken
continuity of the Church from the very beginning, and I cannot assent
or remain silent about things that are contrary to that faith. So St.
Maximus had his tongue cut out and his arms cut off, and that's why
he is called the Confessor, because he remained steadfast in his
faith. A few decades after he died, the Sixth Ecumenical Council
vindicated him, and said that, yes, he was right.
So
there are these cases in history where one person is right and
everybody else is wrong, but even he did not try to have things his
way. He stood in his position because that was the faith of the
Church that he had received.
So,
the Prodigal comes to himself in humility and realized that what he
had done was not good, and he had the humility to go back and to ask
for forgiveness from his father, to ask not to be received as a son
but as a servant. Of course, we know that the father [sees him while
he's far off and] comes and embraces him and puts on a robe and a
ring on his finger.
But what
was
essential
was that glimmer
of humility, of realizing that he had been stubborn, that he had done
things that he should have known better than to do. It must have been
heart-breaking, to realize that. I think it's difficult for most of
us, if not all of us, to realize we are wrong. And since we're not
God, we're all wrong at one point or another. But he had the humility
to go back and to ask
forgiveness.
And
this is extremely important because we have the converse example, the
opposite example, which
is that of Judas. We have talked about this in our various education
series, that Judas betrayed Jesus, and he realized that he had done
something wrong and he repented, but he lacked that one final
ingredient: the humility to go back and to ask for forgiveness. The
Church tells us that had he done that,
he would not have been lost. He was lost because he did not ask for
forgiveness. And then, realizing that he had done wrong led him to
despair and then he
was lost and he hung himself.
So let
us learn from the Prodigal from this morning. Let us learn from his
initial hard-heartedness and from where wanting to do things his way
at all costs led him, but let us more importantly learn from his
humility, for the Father welcomes all of us, no matter where we have
strayed, no matter how far we may have gone off the path, no matter
what we have done. We have a loving and merciful God who awaits us
and welcomes us when we turn to him in repentance. And, in doing so,
we receive grace, we receive his joy, we receive his gifts, for we
are not received back as anything lower than the children of God,
created in his image and likeness. That is a wondrous and marvelous
gift that God always has ready for us, and I hope and pray that for
that we are always grateful and always give glory to Him: Father,
Son, and Holy Spirit.
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