Scandalous love (Fourth Sunday of Lent, Year C)

The parable of the Prodigal Son is about relationships, not just between the father and his two sons, but more importantly, between the two brothers.

Prodigal means “extravagant” or “wasteful” to the point of being scandalous. There is no doubt the actions of the younger one are scandalous, from the moment he basically says he can’t wait for his father to die, so he asks for his inheritance up front.

I cannot imagine any son, so matter how disrespectful, actually going up to his father and saying, “Hey Dad, you know, you’re pretty healthy for an old guy. You could linger on for years and years, God willing. I’m young and, well, you know, I could really use that money now, so if you don’t mind…”

But the actions of the father are even more extravagant and scandalous. He willingly gives in to the outrageous request of his impertinent son.

The younger son then goes on a binge of drinking, partying and prostitutes, squandering all his wealth until an economic downturn left him no choice but to take a job feeding pigs. For a kosher Jew, nothing could be more degrading. He is so used to living a life of luxury he doesn’t even have the initiative to help himself to the pig feed.

He decides to return to his father’s house, not because he feels sorry, not because he feels ashamed or guilty, but because his is hungry. He even memorizes a little speech, recognizing he has forfeited any right to be treated as a son but realizing as a servant at least he will be fed.

There is nothing nice about this son. He is suffering the consequence of his wanton ways. Our sense of justice is glad he has fallen on hard times and we can hardly wait till the father gives him a good, swift kick in the pants. We want him to be punished.

Instead, the father runs out to greet his son with hugs and kisses. Not a day went by when he didn’t scan the horizon looking for his son’s return. He has no patience for his son’s rehearsed apology. He orders the best treatment for this undeserving, poor excuse for a son.

However it is the action and attitude of the so-called loyal son that is the main point of this parable. He has said nothing till now; happy his annoying sibling is out of the picture. Reports of his younger brother’s scandalous living assured him he is now the sole heir to the father’s fortune. All he has to do is be a good boy, keep his mouth shut and bide his time. When his father dies, all this wealth will be his.

Now it’s the older brother’s turn to be scandalized, not just by his bratty brother’s return, but also by his father’s inexplicable generosity. Saying that all these years he “slaved” for his father betrays the attitude, not of a filial son but of a resentful and reluctant servant. I mean really, WTH? His father is being totally unfair, unjust and—most annoyingly—nonjudgmental.

Jesus directs this parable at the “good boys”— self-righteous scribes and Pharisees who grumbled about Jesus offering God’s forgiveness to sinners and tax collectors.

After all, if God is going to be gracious to sinners, why bother keeping all these commandments (all 613 of them!)?

Today, does God's mercy toward sinners scandalize us?

I mean, if God is going to bless atheists, why bother being Catholic?

If God accepts same-sex couples and their children, why send our children to Catholic schools?

If God loves alcoholics, drug addicts, gamblers, adulterers, and all sinners as much as he loves us “holy” people, why do we come to Sunday Mass, say the Rosary and and read the Bible?

Why? Not to win God’s favor or forgiveness, but to show God our gratitude. If God shows mercy to sinners, then God will show mercy to us.

This wonderful drama of the Prodigal Son confronts us with the scandal of God’s unconditional and boundless mercy. The only question left to answer is: which son are you?