The texts from the Roman Catholic Lectionary today challenge us to review our practice of justice and reconciliation to intensify our response of mercy and compassion to those in need of our love.
Prodigal mercy
The reading from the Book of Joshua initiates the Passover at Gilgal.
* [5:9] The place is called Gilgal: by popular etymology, because of the similarity of sound with the Hebrew word gallothi, “I have removed.” Gilgal probably means “circle,” i.e., the place of the circle of standing stones. Cf. 4:4–8.1
Psalm 34 offers praise for deliverance from trouble.
* [Psalm 34] A thanksgiving in acrostic form, each line beginning with a successive letter of the Hebrew alphabet. In this Psalm one letter is missing and two are in reverse order. The psalmist, fresh from the experience of being rescued (Ps 34:5, 7), can teach the “poor,” those who are defenseless, to trust in God alone (Ps 34:4, 12). God will make them powerful (Ps 34:5–11) and give them protection (Ps 34:12–22).2
The reading from the Second Letter of Paul to the Corinthians explains the ministry of Reconciliation as, in Christ, God was reconciling the world to himself.
* [5:18–21] Paul attempts to explain the meaning of God’s action by a variety of different categories; his attention keeps moving rapidly back and forth from God’s act to his own ministry as well. Who has reconciled us to himself: i.e., he has brought all into oneness. Not counting their trespasses: the reconciliation is described as an act of justification (cf. “righteousness,” 2 Cor 5:21); this contrasts with the covenant that condemned (2 Cor 3:8). The ministry of reconciliation: Paul’s role in the wider picture is described: entrusted with the message of reconciliation (2 Cor 5:19), he is Christ’s ambassador, through whom God appeals (2 Cor 5:20a). In v. 20b Paul acts in the capacity just described.3
The Gospel of Luke is the Parable of the Lost Son and the “prodigal father” and his brother.
* [15:1–32] To the parable of the lost sheep (Lk 15:1–7) that Luke shares with Matthew (Mt 18:12–14), Luke adds two parables (the lost coin, Lk 15:8–10; the prodigal son, Lk 15:11–32) from his own special tradition to illustrate Jesus’ particular concern for the lost and God’s love for the repentant sinner.4
Mary Lee Brock shares that rather than focusing on a hard working son who despite doing everything right never gets a party, she was overwhelmed with the joy expressed by the father who sees his wayward son metaphorically come back to life.
Learning about the experiences of the younger son who spent his entire inheritance on pleasure, I come to understand there have been many gifts in my life that I have sinfully squandered. As he desperately realizes that the animals he is caring for have more to eat than he does, I make space for my shame and face the moments in my life when I have come to a breaking point. And as I hear the taunts of the Pharisees and scribes, I wonder when have I tried to live like Jesus lived and opened my heart to sinners with joy and without judgment? As the younger son returns home to his father with contrition and no expectations, I feel an abiding trust in God’s love for me. This trust in God’s love is grounded in the wisdom from the Psalm calling us to Taste and See the Goodness in the Lord.5
Don Schwager quotes “The Father redeems his son with a kiss,” by Peter Chrysologus (400-450 AD).
"'He fell on his neck and kissed him.' This is how the father judges and corrects his wayward son and gives him not beatings but kisses. The power of love overlooked the transgressions. The father redeemed the sins of his son by his kiss, and covered them by his embrace, in order not to expose the crimes or humiliate the son. The father so healed the son's wounds as not to leave a scar or blemish upon him. 'Blessed are they,' says Scripture 'whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are covered' (Romans 4:7)."(excerpt from SERMON 3)6
The Word Among Us Meditation on Luke 15:1-3, 11-32 comments that God’s love and mercy toward us is so extravagant that we have a hard time wrapping our heads around it. We live in a world run by the logic of conditional love and cautious acceptance. It’s the kind of logic that equates justice with vengeance and fairness with retribution.
The logic of divine love tells you that you have a heavenly Father who looks upon you with mercy, not judgment. He sees everything about you—good, bad, and indifferent—and he loves you completely and is ready to forgive you unreservedly. Even if you feel like the prodigal son in the parable, he still wants to embrace you and set a feast for you. So come to the table of his altar today with humility and gratitude. Come and celebrate with him and with all your brothers and sisters in Christ. Let his love fill you. “Father, I am in awe of your mercy!”7
Friar Jude Winkler notes the transition of the Israelites as celebrated by Joshua and the exhortation of Paul that we become ambassadors of reconciliation. Friar Jude reminds us that the passive aggressive attitude of the older son can often block our reconciliation with others.
Jack Mahoney SJ, Emeritus Professor of Moral and Social Theology in the University of London, comments it is interesting that this Fourth Sunday of Lent is also known as ‘Rejoicing Sunday’, or Laetare Sunday.
The Mass is celebrating the joy of forgiveness at this stage of Lent, both the joy of God in forgiving those who return to him in repentance, and the joy of those who are forgiven unconditionally by a loving and understanding God. It is not just a happy coincidence that the Gospel for Rejoicing Sunday presents us with the major parable Jesus told to illustrate the rejoicing in heaven whenever anyone who has been lost is found.8
Fr. Richard Rohr, OFM, locates the primary source of our fears in our small or false selves, which are unable to trust the love of God that infuses all of reality. It is almost always fear that justifies our knee-jerk rebellion or our need to dominate—a fear that is hardly ever recognized as such because we are acting out and trying to control the situation. Author Gareth Higgins describes moving through the “no” of fear to the “yes” of love.
Look beneath your fear and you will discover what it is you really care about. What you wish to protect: people, places, things, hopes, dreams. Aggression, shame, and disconnection—even as attempts at making a better life for me or a better world for all of us—don’t work. But as we expand our circle of caring to include all people, all places, all of creation, we discover that our fears are shared and that all our cares come from the same place. Come to understand your fear, and you may find that we’re all just trying to figure out how to love. [1]9
Father Richard concludes with a comment on fear.
Unless there is someone to hold and accompany us on these inner journeys, much of humanity cannot go very deep inside. If only we knew Who we would meet there, and could say, with St. Catherine of Genoa (1447–1510), “My deepest me is God!” [2] Without such accompaniment, most of us will stay on the surface of our own lives, where small-spiritedness keeps us from being bothered by others. Yet with divine accompaniment, we will literally “find our souls” and the One who lovingly dwells there.9
Our experiences of return from separation with the guidance of the Spirit may transform our indignation and fear to mercy and compassion.
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