We can be greedy like the lost younger son. When do we want it? Now. Maybe it’s only a minor sacrifice of will or time or convenience that grates between two greedy people. But it’s my will, my time, my convenience, me, me. The descending spirituality of Jesus invites us to go down, admit it, say sorry, try harder, sacrifice, give up, become less. But we, like toddlers or adolescents, will fiercely hold our petty ground as though it really mattered.
Someone has to take the first step, whether it is a kind personal gesture or the missed acquiescence at Copenhagen. The stricken son had to choose to return with authenticity, with shaven head and apologies, to seek, bow, kneel and be honest - say how silly he’d been. ‘Sorry’ can so easily choke and be swallowed in our own puny throats.
God does not nod and say ‘you’re back?’ He runs and feasts and bestows and welcomes and rejoices. When Australians really reconcile with original inhabitants, surely there will be profound blessings. When each of us has passed through the passage of death there will be, hopefully, a party. Jesus does long for us. We have consoling intimations of the Lord’s committed devotion in the natural environment, if our everyday antennae are switched on and operating.
How deeply that father had quietly suffered his rejected loneliness can be measured by the excitement of the surprise return. One can sense hot tears from emotional overflow. Rewards of a parent’s endless prayerful patience are implied in this story of a family. So many have left religious practice for a distant country. So many need prayer.
Of course the young man didn’t deserve mercy, strict human justice would dictate. The older son suffers in his narrow incapacity to overturn common sense logic. Of course ‘It’s not fair.’ Live with it. We too can be all too clouded in our perception of intense divine desire. One can hope the resentful angry son was eventually moved to enjoy the celebration. Smug self righteousness is not confined to bitter elder sons.
If mercy ‘droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven’ it can also come in an incredible tropical downpour that we can scarcely cope with or imagine, a deep spirit soaking. Grace, all grace, becomes almost tangible in a domestic atmosphere of compassionate solace, in this moving story of healing hands, a Returning, a Resurrection, a Restoration.
Margaret Moore
Dominican Ex-student
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