Some have called the story of The Prodigal Son the most perfect short story ever written. Might that not be because the subject matter, forgiveness, is so intimately interwoven into the personal relationships of our lives?
Others have written stories to bring out the theme of forgiveness.
- Perhaps we can understand this parable better by reflecting on another
story. It is a novel set in South Africa, and now that that nation has
uprooted the terrible evil of racism, probably few people (except those in
English literature courses) read the great novel of that struggle by Alan
Paton. Cry, the Beloved Country has been made into a film twice; the second
film in particular is worth renting. His second novel, Too Late the
Phalarope, continued to create unforgettable characters whose lives were
indelibly marked by this pervasive sin of racial prejudice. One of them was
also a father; indeed, a patriarch. His story offers a contrast to the
father in the story that Jesus gives us today.
Pillar of the community, head of a large family, devout member of the Dutch Reformed Church, he was a stern figure, satisfied with his life. One of his sons held a good job as lieutenant of the police; he was married, two lovely children. The son was also idolized by the country for his success at playing cricket, the English version of baseball. But from the beginning of the novel, and through the observations of the maiden aunt, we realize that he is not at peace with himself. Something smolders within. His life had been too controlled by rules, doing always what was expected of him, like the elder brother in the gospel parable, until there seemed no spark was left in him. But there was, and it led to a serious sin. Adultery is always serious, and one is taken aback that this upright man falls not once, but several times. The sin is found out; he is betrayed by his subordinate, who is angry because the lieutenant had disciplined him. It is his way of getting even, and ruining forever the young man's future - because, you see, he had committed the act with a black woman. That was rigidly forbidden by the law, and would lead to a prison term.
How did the father in this story by Alan Paton - not the one by Jesus - react? As if he were God, but a god that showed no mercy, gave no second chances, knew nothing of forgiveness. He called the family together and told them that they were never again to speak the name of his son, their brother; he was dead to them. Then he ordered the front entrance of the house boarded up, so that people would not visit and see a family that had been shamed. One thing more: he took the venerable Holy Bible, and with a large pen and heavy black ink, scratched out the name of his son, obliterating it from the book of life.
The supreme irony is that the patriarch had read that book, privately and each night with the family as part of their devotions. Surely he knew the parable that Jesus gave, and he would have read many other examples of God's attitude towards sinners; there is the story of the woman rejoicing to find the coin that was lost, and the shepherd who goes in search of the strayed sheep. There is especially the story of the woman taken in adultery, and the fact that Jesus does not condemn her - he tells her to go in peace and sin no more. If he read mainly in the Old Testament he would have encountered the prophets like Isaiah who said, speaking for God, "I will not the death of the sinner, but rather, that he be converted and live." He might have discovered the peak of Old Testament revelation in Jeremiah (Her. 31:31-35). Once again it is God speaking through the prophet: I will forgive all their wrong-doing, I will not remember their sins any more." [i]
Since the Prodigal Son is a story, it can be best understood by comparing it with other stories, as we have just done. We have seen how the rigid legalism of the Afrikaaner father in our story highlights the love of the father in the Prodigal Son story. Another story highlights that same love.
- Lachlan Campbell had always been a hard man, but never had his heart
hardened more than when his daughter Flora left home. Flora's mother had
died in Flora's infancy, and Lachlan had raised his daughter alone. He had
been a strict and unaffectionate father, never knowing that his
hardheartedness toward his only child was driving her away. She began to
rebel, and eventually ran off to the city to live a life of freedom. In the
traditional Scottish society of a century ago, her actions were seen as
bringing irreparable shame on her family name. Lachlan Campbell asked the
church elders to remove Flora's name from the rolls of the church, for he
had blotted out her name from the family Bible. In his eyes, she was no
longer his child. Fortunately, the church elders knew that Flora was a good
girl who had needed more guidance and love than she received in her life.
They refused to remove her name from the church rolls, but they pledged to
show Lachlan the respect and caring that he needed in this time of grief.
And it was a time of grief. Despite Lachlan's seeming hardheartedness, he loved his daughter dearly, and his heart was broken by her leaving. The people of the town respected Lachlan's grief and did not gossip or inquire about his missing daughter. But they all observed this once strong, confident man become weak, slow, old, and faded by his pain. Finally one day, a neighbor, Margaret Howe, came to visit Lachlan. She felt that he needed some company to brighten his day. Margaret gently inquired about Flora. Lachlan poured out his shame, sadness, and anger toward his daughter, and showed Margaret the family Bible with Flora's name blotted out. Margaret became angry and berated Lachlan for his anger and lack of forgiveness. She exclaimed: "Woe is me if our Father had blotted out our names from the Book of Life when we left His house. But He sent His son to seek us, an' a weary road He came." Lachlan realized that Margaret was right, but he didn't know how to bring his daughter back. So Margaret wrote a letter to Flora on his behalf, telling her of her father's sadness and asking her to come home. Lachlan had only to wait now, and hope that his child was still alive and wanted to come home. Lachlan realized that because of her great shame, Flora would only return home under cover of night, so he trimmed his fanciest lamp, one that had never been used, and he propped it up in the window, on top of the family Bible. He determined that this lamp would burn every night until Flora came home.
In the time since Flora had left, she had lived her life of freedom in the city. But this life of freedom quickly turned into a life of loneliness and hardship. Many times she had wanted to come home, but she knew her father would never receive her. She had sunk into deep despair and hopelessness. But one day she had a vision of going back to her small town and entering her old church. She sat there with her father as the preacher preached a message of forgiveness, of how much the Lord wants to bring the lost back into His fold. Flora wanted to believe that vision with all her heart, but she asked God for a sign to confirm it. When she returned to her boarding house, she found the letter from Margaret Howe.
Flora, now tired and ill, returned to her small town under cover of night. As she approached her father's house, she wondered whether he could actually forgive her. If he didn't, then she might as well die. She had no one else in the world who cared for her, and no place else she cared to go. She could never make up for the shame she had caused him, and so her only hope was his forgiveness. But suddenly Flora noted the light shining in her father's window. He was expecting her. He had lit a lamp in welcome. Flora began to run toward the little house. Her father pulled open the door and hugged her with all his might. He cried over her, calling her "darling" in all the fifty forms of that word that exist in the Gaelic language. She knew then that she had been forgiven. Flora was in ill health, though, and had to spend the next few weeks recovering. During this time, Lachlan knew that he would have to tell her his shameful secret. So one day, he brought family bible and laid it in Flora's lap. She saw how her father had blotted out her name in it. Lachlan wished so much he could take that back now. Flora calmly took up a pen and wrote something in the Bible. It now read: FLORA CAMPBELL - Missed April 1873 - Found September 1873. [ii]
We could go into the usual facets of this story: How am I like the Prodigal Son? More to the point, perhaps, how am I like the Elder Son, judgmental and aloof? How am I like the loving Father? This story is so beautiful, however, that I think we get the most out of it by staying with the story itself, as we have done. When I taught English Literature, I would often so dissect a poem for my class that the poetry disappeared in the mindboggling analysis.
I think the only way to approach, appreciate and get something out of the story of the Prodigal Son is to reread it today and thank God for its beauty and resolve, ourselves, this Lent, to confess our sins, knowing that a loving Father is there to forgive us. And then we know we must forgive the sins of those we feel have hurt us.
[i] Fr. William Nolan, "Father of mercies," Good News, 28 (03): 108 (Good
News, Liturgical Publications Inc., 2875 South James Drive, New Berlin, WI
53151) March 2001.
[ii] Frank Lyman, "Standing with clasped hands," Dynamic Preaching 16 (01):
83-4 (Seven Worlds Corporation, 310 Simmons Road, Knoxville TN 37922),
January, February, March 2001.
(Comments to Jerry at padre@tri-lakes.net. Jerry's book, Stories For All Seasons, is available at a discount through the Homiletic Resource Center.)