Twenty-Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time 'C'

Saturday September 11, 2010

There’s no place like home.

As a youngster whenever our family returned home from a journey of a day, a week or a month, on entering our home my mom would say, “There’s no place like home!” Indeed, but there is nothing more precious than coming home to a forgiving heart after an argument or a period of estrangement.

Among the texts assigned for this weekend, we come upon the parable of the Prodigal Son. Luke is the only evangelist to record the story for our telling. Although he might have been a Greek-speaking Jew, Luke was a man who knew the healing Jesus and through him came to know God as a ‘prodigal’ (outrageously generous) Father who wants nothing more than healing for the sinner.

Mercy is the key to unlock the doors of hardened hearts. This story and the continuing stresses of modern life seem to be calling us home — to this table and to whatever table we call the ‘family table.’

We all desperately want to be at home with ourselves and with all those people we call family — some of them our biological family; others who have become family over the years because of the values we hold in common or if not the values we hold, at least because of a bond of friendship that somehow enables us to override our differences with the undying belief that we want what is best for one another. Momentary breeches are not always indicators of the absence of love but rather signs of the frailty of human nature and of the fragile spirit that does not always respond with the magnanimity required by divine love.

And so we have come to this table this morning because we want to be at home with our God. We are in a safe place at this table and we understand that although we all come from different tables and do not know one another intimately, there is a high level of trust here because somehow our God has searched us out from the dark stairwells of falling towers and smoky tunnels of life that lead nowhere; calling us from the quagmire of battle fields into the light of a new day. We see now only a glimmer of light, but it is enough to get us to the next step or the next stop. We discover at this table that although there are lessons to be learned from life experiences, we must take advantage of this table and this time to listen with our hearts as well as with our ears so that we might find meaning beyond life’s mistakes and disappointments. We need to be very attentive to one another because it is in that exchange of feelings that the ruptures resulting from sin can and will be healed with God’s intervention.

Some of us may identify with the prodigal son. Been there, done that. Have gone out on our own to do our own thing, and do it our own way, squandering our gifts, using others for our own gain, thinking we had all the answers to life’s mysteries, building towers if not of steel, of personal gain that we thought would guarantee our ultimate success. Then in a moment, we discover the absurdity of our pursuits and something within us screams, “I want to go home!” Not to go back, mind you — we can never go back. Going home means moving forward to a family table where we can feel safe, and despite our differences, respected for who we are.

Some of us may harbor the thoughts of the older brother. Perhaps we’ve never left the table or have never wandered from family or friends or squandered our time or talent in a vain effort to be successful or powerful. But in the face of the absurdity of self-righteousness, we come to discover that life is a risk wherever we stand and it is not enough to keep ourselves safe from risk or harm. We need to reach out and welcome wayfarers and those who lose their way even those who lose their way through their own fault. Love can be tough but tough love often works miracles.

But all of us are called to be the ‘prodigal’ father epitomized in the Gospel. He is the one who guides without controlling, who corrects without criticizing, who loves without counting the cost.

Nine years ago yesterday, we were plunged us to a level of our souls where we have never been before. And the fragile insecurity that we still experience attempting the reconciliation of opposing forces and still live in accordance with the dictates of our conscience moves us to risk entering places we’ve never been before—learning new lessons that impact on the way we’ve always done things and calling us to new ways and means.

In the face absurdity, some of us say and do absurd things. The protests against the construction of a mosque two blocks from ground zero have reached beyond the point of absurdity. Many of our religious leaders have remained embarrassingly silent perhaps out of fear of retribution from generous contributors. But it is important to speak out even when we may stand alone in the crowd of those who oppose us as long as we listen before we speak and think before we act. There may be a part of us that wants to tune out, to stop digging at all the details of life’s traumas, tragedies, incongruities and differences. It may not matter what we say. We are often in the midst of absurd realities. No one has the magic formula to confront the absurd, but there can be no compromise with evil; evildoers must be held accountable but we cannot forget that the God of Israel and the God of Islam is the God of Jesus and that tyranny of any kind does not render justice nor will vengeance bring peace.

We need to be home with ourselves and at home with one another. We are fragile pilgrims attempting to be anchors for those whose hurt is greater than ours.

The most important issues facing us as a nation and as a church are moral, spiritual and pastoral, not economic. All of us desperately need healing in these difficult times and the only way for this to happen is for all parties to come to the table to air their wounds and hurts without rancor. Going to war is not a lasting solution. Bashing those who oppose us will not work if for no other reason than that it is not the ‘way of the Lord.’

The gospel for this weekend is indeed a strong reminder of the compassionate God whom we all worship, the God who is father and mother to us all; the God whose son, Jesus, demonstrated for us in very concrete ways how we can make life work for the good of all.

God, your Spirit is at work
when understanding puts an end to strife,
when hatred is quenched by mercy,
and vengeance gives way to forgiveness.
[from the preface of the second Mass of Reconciliation]

May the peace of Christ be in our minds and hearts today and always. Amen.

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