Homily: Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time: 2007

Brothers and sisters, today we hear the story of the Prodigal Son. (I once heard a homilist say, smirking, that it was not the son who was "prodigal," but the father. Well, they BOTH were, depending on how you happen to be using the word, since it has at least two definitions, one meaning "spendthrift, profligate" and one meaning "generous, magnanimous." But this was the same Catholic instructor who asked us point blank if we saw someone who needed help, an old decrepit person who couldn't mow their lawn, say, whether we would help them or just pray for them. And I said, (Duh), "You can do both!" [He's now an Episcopalian.]) And let's do something Ignatian. St. Ignatius of Loyola used to say you should put yourself in the scene, even in the place of one of the characters in the Bible. I think he was specifically talking about historical people, but it works with the characters of the parables as well.

How many of us can put themselves in the place of the prodigal son? Headstrong, ambitious, selfish, blind to all but their own dreams? Hey, aren't we always told to follow our dreams? Aren't we always told to go for it? Aren't we always told, "You only go around once in this world; go for all the gusto you can"? I hate that commercial! (I'm dating myself. It advertised beer, back in the day.) But we are constantly pummeled with similar "can-do" sayings, and if we take them even half-seriously, we could end up like the spendthrift son, going through his inheritance on pleasure and ending up miserable. Yeah, sitting among the pigs, regretting his selfish decisions and repenting, wishing for nothing so much as being able to turn back the clock. "Oh, Lord, just let me turn back the clock and I won't do what I did!" But that is one thing that can't happen in this world down below . . . the clock only runs one way. What can we learn from the son? That he did the next best thing. He couldn't actually turn back the clock and undo his decisions -- his sins -- but he could repent and throw himself upon the mercy of the father. He could basically change his mind, agree to "sin no more and avoid the near occasions of sin," and live as a servant in his father's household. Good man.

Or put yourself in the place of the bitter older son. This is easy! Have you never been passive-aggressive? "I can't believe he's treating my brother better than me! I so much more deserve it." And then you just pout. You nurse your hurt, nurse it, nurse it, because it feels so good to feel so bad! But who has respect for the priggish, self-righteous, and whining older son? Don't BE that guy! Rejoice with the father and remember that all he has is yours.

Or, last but not least, put yourself in the place of the father. How easy is that, for those of us with grown children! How easy to mourn a wayward son! How easy to part with our money but not with our heart! We miss him. We worry about him. We long to see him back in the healthy bosom of the family, his soul clean and saved. But what can we learn from the eminently imitable father? Wait, wait, wait. Be patient and wait and your son will come back to you.