The Fourth Sunday of Lent – Laetare, C March 31, 2019
Fr. Albert St. John the Evangelist, Jeanerette
Sin. Repentance. Hellfire. More and more, these words have faded from common usage even though they are almost trademarks of conservative Christians. They are important, necessary words. Over time, however, they’ve accumulated some baggage… become a little distorted by the passage of time and the loss of perspective. When I say “repent or you will go to Hell,” what do you think of?
Perhaps not you, but many people think of an angry God, a mighty judge out to get us, ready to punish us for even small indiscretions. “Catholic guilt” is mocked in the world; this image of getting all tied up in knots whenever we do things that seem like harmless fun to everyone else. God becomes the spiteful teacher, the angry father and hell is the stick he uses to keep us worthless humans in check.
And this gives rise to two extremes. Some get so fed up with walking the line that they simply give up. They lose their faith or try hard to ignore it, falling into a life of dissipation or mediocrity. On the other extreme, you get those who strive to honor every rule, to be the prefect servant, and who are quick to point out when others are not.
But Jesus doesn’t want either of those. Jesus, who knows the Eternal Father better than anyone, wants us to get past our distorted image of God. So he tells this parable to address both extremes. The famous parable of the prodigal son. Upon hearing it, most people catch on to Jesus’ emphasis on mercy – that God is eager to forgive us. They catch on to the fact that he hates it when we get all judgmental and mean to people because of sins they committed in the past. But none of this means there is no such thin as sin. Sin is a key theme in this parable, or else mercy would make no sense.
So, here’s the question that must be asked: What is the sin? At what point does this prodigal son sin against heaven and against his father? Just because it’s the first thing he does, we might think it’s asking for his inheritance – like it’s some kind of insult. Towards the end of the parable, the older brother is focused on the wastefulness and the prostitutes. But what about the father? What part of his son’s actions seem to hurt him the most?
“He was lost, and has been found.” The father doesn’t even acknowledge the younger son’s little speech of repentance. He simply turns to the servants and commands that a feast begin because he has his son back. It’s not what he did while he was gone, it’s not that he wanted his share of the property, it’s that he separated himself from his father.
And when it comes to the older brother, we see the same thing. This brother wants to stay outside, apart from his brother and father. The father doesn’t just fuss at him and tell him to come inside, he pleads with him. And when he argues back, the father’s answer is not a rebuke, but a reminder of what matters most “My son, you are here with me always.” Now, your brother is with us too, and that is what matters.
The distortion of our image of God is not that sin and hell and repentance aren’t real, but that we miss what they are based on. Hell is not the result of God being out to get us, it’s not his way of getting even with his disobedient creatures and servants. Hell is the place we choose for ourselves when we prefer to be separated from God.
There are many reasons why we do this, but all sin ultimately comes back to the fundamental reality of being distant from God. Both sons are too focused on his property. The younger wants a false idea of freedom, the ability to ignore reality and chase pleasure regardless of the harm it does. The older wants credit for his own righteousness, to be seen as a loyal servant who has earned his share rather than as a son who was given everything by his father.
“I no longer deserve to be called your son.” So says the younger son when he returns. The older son’s words are not much different: “All these years I served you… yet you never gave me even a young goat.” Both of them think their sonship is something earned – that it comes down to an exchange of goods and services. My behavior determines whether or not I can have the good things owned by my father. But what does the father say? “You are here with me always, everything I have is yours.” The older son never asked for the goat… he seemed to think that his father is like a boss who will give you a bonus if you deserve it. The younger son is bold enough to ask, but blind to the relationship that makes the property worthwhile in the first place. What good is money if you are alone? If you have no love and no one to share it with?
When I say “repent, or you will go to Hell,” what do you imagine? Your answer reveals something about how you think of God. Do you imagine him as someone whose love and respect you must earn? Do you see heaven and hell as carrot and stick, designed to control your behavior? God is just and wants us to practice justice, to give to others what is fair, what is owed to them. But he himself is quite eager to go above and beyond mere justice to outright generosity.
You don’t deserve to exist. But you do. You don’t deserve to have grace. But you have it. You don’t deserve to be God’s son or daughter. But you are. Guilt isn’t meant to measure what you deserve. It is meant to tell you that you’ve gotten too far from you father. Yes, you should practice repentance. Yes, you should go to confession often and strive to avoid sin. But do not let the world twist your image of these things, your image of God.
“Repent, or you will go to hell” is just the flip side of “you are here with me always, everything I have is yours.” Ask for what you need, don’t try to earn it. Be grateful for what you have, don’t get lost in the fleeting pleasures of it. And when you do get lost, let yourself be found. When sin kills your soul, let it be brought to life again. In the end, God is “out to get you,” just not to punish you. He’s out to get you, to see you on the horizon, run to you, and bring you home. Let him.