The Prodigal Son

" Jesus told this parable: ' There was a man who had two sons, and the younger son said to his father, 'Father, give me the share of your estate that should come to me.' After a few days, the younger son collected all his belongings and set off to a distant country where he squandered his inheritance on a life of dissipation. When he had freely spent everything, a severe famine struck that country, and he found himself in dire need. Coming to his senses, he got up and went back to his father. His father caught sight of him and was filled with compassion. He ran to his son, embraced him and kissed him. His son said to him, 'I no longer deserve to be called your son.' But his father ordered his servants,
'Quickly, bring the finest robe and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Take the fattened calf and slaughter it. Then let us celebrate with a feast.'

Now the older son became angry and refused to enter the house. His father came out and pleaded with him. He said to his father in reply, '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. But when your son returns, who swallowed up your property with prostitutes, for him, you slaughter the fatted calf.' His father said to him, ' My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. 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.' " [ Luke 15].

Every few years, this Scripture comes up again in the cycle of Gospel Readings. The first few times I read this, I thought that this parable must be wrong!! I was angry. I thought that somehow this story must be a mistake!

In the culture of that time, as a son asking for his inheritance today, was the equivalent of saying to one's father, "You are dead to me."

So then, HOW could the older son, who had stayed faithful and obedient to his father all of his life, be treated this way?  Shouldn't it be the opposite?

OR does my angry refusal to accept this story speak volumes about my hardness of heart toward my own family. . . .

It always took everything I had to be respectful to the parents I had been born to; the parents who never said, "I love you", who neglected to treat my serious lung disease, who sometimes did not feed me, who abandoned me in a far way city after I had almost died in a violent crime.

And so, I was as loving as I could be while I lived in that house. Or, at times, to protect myself, I stayed out of the way.

Even Jesus said that, if you are not welcome in one village, to pack your sandals and go to another village. [Luke 9]. So, one day when I was old enough for university, I simply left. This is as it should be. We are never called to love to the point of accepting abuse.

But then, many years after I had left home, my father died abruptly. The brother, who had been extremely harsh on me as well, called me and, with sad emotion in his voice, told me, "Dad did not make it. You'd better get down here [home.]' "

All the cruel years melted away in that moment. My father was lost and gone! I got in the car and drove to my parents' home.

Forgiveness is what the story of the Prodigal Son is all about. Forgiveness is a funny thing.

To even go home, I knew that I had to forgive, but I was trying to "contain" my forgiveness, to make it conditional:

I will forgive if my transgressors are dead and gone, like my own parents are, because everything is in the past now and can no longer touch me.

I will forgive only because my mother is frail and overwhelmed and no longer has the strength to hurt me.

But do not ask me to forgive if the transgressor is my brother, who seemed to get everything he wanted, when all I did was labor my whole life, to nuture my parents.

I do like to tell the story of how all the years melted away the day my father suddenly died and how I ran home to take care of my mother until the day she died.

I talk a lot less about the forgiveness I need to cultivate towards my brother. . . .

I want it to count that I never hated him. In reality, it was more like, I was afraid of him.

I do not want to admit that if he showed up at my door today unexpectedly, I might not let him in.

I don't want to talk about all those holidays when I said 'Merry Christmas', threw a gift at him that I did not want to buy, then ate at his table and barely spoke to him. What did HE do, except grow up in that same painful, traumatizing house?

I hate to even mention all the family treasures that I coveted-- no, fought over and believed were owed to me-- for the lifetime of cruelty and abuse that I endured.

I once asked my pastor if there is anything that is unforgiveable? How I wanted the answer to be yes, for all the severe abuse committed against me. The pastor paused and said, "Hmmm." Then, he said, "Umm. No . . . ."

I am still trying to piece together all of the lifelong abuse. Memories come back in fragmentary pieces: feelings of terror, flashes of cruelty in nightmares or in waking images. I tell myself that I cannot forgive yet, if I do not know all the details of what was done against me. Please, God, give me more time!

I had to think long and hard about what the pastor said. It hated to think it, but true forgiveness cannot be conditional.  Conditional forgivess is like bargaining with God. But God --who loves us totally-- wants our total love.

One day, I called my brother and apologized about my feelings of blame against him, for all of the damage wrought on me. I had already done a lot of work towards forgiving my parents. Why couldn't I soften my heart towards him?

My brother paused. I sort of held my breath. He apologized heartily for what he had ever done to hurt me. He finally said, "That's what I like about this family. We can be brutally honest and still love each other." I breathed a sigh of relief.

He freely says, "I love you" to me now. I am not ready for that yet. I cannot say it back. I still have work to do on forgiving.

Our feelings of forgiveness are a journey. Forgiveness is a long walk that will end in us gaining far more than we would ever lose. Forgiveness is not defeat, it is the victory of Love.

I want those feelings of forgiveness to grow inside me. I do not want hate to eat me up inside "like a bitter seed." [Hebrews 12.]  This is not what I survived for, after that severe life-long abuse.

With a hard heart inside me, I can never fulfill the plan that God has for me. I can never have space in my soul to tap into my gifts, or to find the love that I need to continue on.

And, if my brother-- who was so harsh to me-- can let go and love; but I, who was never abusive, vow to never let go of my hard feelings for him -- then who is the sinner here?

Forgiveness-- because I owe it to myself; because I owe it to God.

[Hate= Murder, February 17, 2011; "Love Your Enemies", February 21, 2012].

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