By Fr. Glenn Jones:

Still we view the human tragedy of war continuing in Ukraine. News stories speak of 15,000 Russian soldiers dead, the Ukrainian death toll likely be at least that many but also including civilians. We would have hoped that there could have been a much better path to resolve any issue than killing and destruction.

Who would have thought just a few years ago that such would come about? It reminds us of the brevity and ultimate unpredictability of life and of our inescapable mortality. As Jesus exhorts several times in the Gospels: “Watch; you know neither the day nor the hour…”—that moment when we will make our proverbial “final exit”, whether it be in war, illness, accident, or simply passing quietly—often unexpectedly—in our beds. And while we sorrow at deaths of friends and loved ones, we know that we are allotted only an finite moment on this earth, so it is up to us to live each moment well. Or not.

Now, this weekend we Catholics hear at Mass one of Jesus’ best known and powerful parables—that of the prodigal son, or of the loving father as it sometimes known, in Luke 15. This teaching story is intended to highlight not so much the petulance of the young son, but rather of the goodness and the munificent mercy of the selfless and loving father.

Just a brief recap: The young son was what we might nowadays call a “spoiled brat”, impertinently demanding his share of his inheritance even before his father died. Imagine, parents, your child demanding: “I don’t want to wait ‘til you croak; give me my half of your land and bank account now!” Even today this would be beyond the pale. And yet, the loving and indulgent father complies … giving his son freedom to choose his path, even though he likely knows his son’s recklessness.

The selfish son soon breaks all ties with father and family … caring little for the love and lessons given him all of his life, squandering his inheritance, giving in to a hedonistic and sinful lifestyle, naively expecting that such will lead him to fulfillment—no commandments … no authority to obey … no responsibility … nobody to answer to. How many of us, recalling the time right after high school and/or our subsequent leaving the nest, recognize ourselves a bit in such an attitude? Ah, the hard-gotten benefits coming with greater life experience.

Ever so predictably, the young lad soon is down and out, the world having used him up and spit him out after it had squeezed him dry. Reduced to feeding unclean swine, he even hungers for their slop and would eagerly have nosed in beside the pigs at the trough. But no one gives him even that, for even the pigs now have greater value than he.

One moral so far? That to abandon morality and goodness leads not to freedom, but to slavery—slaver to our animal passions, like the young man in the parable. The rudderless become wretched slaves to sensual appetites and vice … longing for slop.

But Jesus then turns the story around with the prodigal son realizing his foolishness … that even his father’s servants—respecting the wise father’s will and direction—are much freer and happier than he has become. The Gospel then says: “Coming to his senses…”, meaning “coming out of his impulsive stupor”—the young man finally recognizes the futile lifestyle into which he has fallen, and that his father’s house—order, morality, goodness … love—is where he truly belongs, and where happiness and contentment really reside. Lack of discipline … lack of respect of his father … unbridled pursuit of his passions … has led him not upward, but downward to base animality. Home is where life finds true happiness and meaning.

So, contrite and wiser, he journeys home. Then, in one of the most touching images in scripture, the father sees him coming even from a great distance, throws aside all decorum and reserve, and runs to meet his child … such is the father’s love. Even before the son expresses his whole apology does the father order a celebration: the son who was “dead” lives again! The “finest robe” is given to the son—a symbol of a new life of grace and acceptance.

In a final twist, the older, steadier brother is angry that the father treats this formerly recalcitrant younger son with such mercy. But the wise father exhorts him not to be bitter, but rather be joyful in the saving of his brother from self-destruction. Parents understand this well, because no matter how rebellious their child, their joy and relief is their child’s return goodness.

Christians see in the father, of course, an image of the true and merciful and loving Father in Heaven …  always ready to forgive … always eager to run to bring us home again. But our time is short, shorter for some than for others. Had the young man’s pride kept him from home, neither he nor his father would have rejoiced.

So, would not the wise man … the wise woman … seek God and goodness and righteousness at the earliest opportunity? … “Because man goes to his eternal home…the silver cord is snapped, or the golden bowl is broken…and the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the spirit returns to God who gave it.” (Ecclesiastes 12:5-7)

And so, O Christian, like the Father with the prodigal son, the Almighty Father ever longs for us … watches for us … to come down the road toward home, pleading: “Come now, let us reason together, says the LORD: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool.” (Isaiah 1:18) But we mustn’t delay; each day we are closer to going to God than the day before.

The joy of virtue—of loving God and neighbor—surpasses all other joys in life, but only if we let it and sincerely seek it. In fact, though our lives may be physically comfortable and even pleasurable, without love and goodness life is an empty shell waiting to be filled. Longing to come home.

Editor’s note: Rev. Glenn Jones is the Vicar General of the Archdiocese of Santa Fe and former pastor of Immaculate Heart of Mary Catholic Church in Los Alamos.