The Father's mercy

In the Jubilee Year of Mercy, this weekend's readings give us a glimpse into the merciful heart of our heavenly Father.

A merciful father

During the Jubilee Year of Mercy, we are all invited to rediscover the merciful face of our heavenly Father, and one of the most well-known portrayals of God’s mercy is found in the parable we have heard today.  It is referred to as the parable of the Prodigal Son, but it is also sometimes called the parable of the merciful father.

It’s important to note the context in which this parable is recounted: All the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus (Lk 15:1).   This fact alone attests to the power of Jesus’ words, and to the effect they were having.  This was no ordinary preacher.  His words rang true in the hearts of his listeners, calling them all to a new truth.  There was hope in the words Jesus spoke, even for those who knew that they were sinners, for those who had almost given up hope; and even for those who were the most despised: the tax collectors who acted on behalf of the Roman empire, the ones who were notorious for overcharging the tax payers and for wallowing in ill-gotten gains.  This is why the Pharisees and scribes were grumbling (Lk 15:2).  They were responsible for the religious well-being of the people, yet they had all but written off the sinners and there was no love lost between them and anyone who worked for the Romans.  In fact, they were on the verge of pronouncing judgment on Jesus himself, since he was in the habit of welcoming sinners and eating with them (cf Lk 15:3).  Although we may not be willing to admit it, there are times when all of us are like the Pharisees and scribes – closed in upon ourselves, looking out at others and ready to pronounce judgment, but Jesus challenges us to do something different: to respond with mercy.

Every one of Jesus’ listeners knew that in a society that was heavily dependent on agriculture, the father of a family was responsible for cultivating his land, making it prosper, and preparing for the day when he would entrust this land to his sons.  He rejoiced when the harvest was good, but he was even happier to see his sons working the land, taking a shared interest in their common future.  Never would he dream that one of his sons would ever come to him and ask him to divide the property, to sell part of it and to part with his money (cf Lk 15:12).  For one of his sons to ask this would mean that there was a serious problem indeed.  It would have broken his heart, yet from the day his son left the property, he would have wondered: Will he ever return?  Is there even the slightest chance that I will ever see him again?  Could it ever be possible that our family will be happy again?  I can almost see the father, withdrawing into himself, pacing along the perimeter of his property by day, every day, glancing out in hope, constantly worrying about the son he had lost, dreaming of the day when he might see him again.  This is the way our Father waits for us.

And then one day, as he is plodding along the fence line, he catches a glimpse of someone coming.  At first he fights within himself, not wanting to allow himself to believe what is happening because it would hurt too much to have his hopes dashed afresh, but the figure is unmistakable: filled with compassion and overjoyed at the sight, he runs to meet him, laughing, calling his name, throwing his arms around him and covering him with kisses, so great is his joy to see his long lost son (Lk 15:20).  God never gives up on us either.  He is always waiting for us, looking out across the fields for us, hoping that we will come home, and when we do, he embraces us, covers us with kisses, clothes us in the finest of robes and throws a celebratory dinner (cf Lk 15:22-24).

God’s mercy doesn’t stop there though.  He has always loved his children.  He has always provided for us; even when we were enslaved in Egypt, he found a way to free us, and even when we were crossing the desert on the return journey to the promised land, he provided for our needs (cf Joshua 5:9-12), and in case we should ever become closed in upon ourselves, thinking that somehow this privileged relationship with God allows us to look at others with judgment, he reminds us all: My son … my daughter … on the day of your baptism, you became a new creation (cf 2 Cor 5:17).  Since that day, you have always been with me, part of my family and all that is mine is yours … but we must celebrate and rejoice, not judge, for saints and sinners live side by side; they are your brothers and sisters too.  They once were dead and now they have come back to life, they were lost and now they have been found (Lk 15:31-32).  The life of faith is not about judgement, it is about recognizing and celebrating the good news of the Father's mercy.