4th sunday of lent C- prodigal son

A group of well-intentioned people met to discuss ways and means of helping a friend who had been down on his luck recently. Knowing him to be an extremely proud person who would not accept money, they decided to arrange a bogus raffle. They told him that they would all draw numbered slips of paper from a hat, and the person who drew the number four would win $200. They did not tell him that the number "four" was on every slip. After the drawing, each of the conspirators glanced at their slips and crumbled them up in the manner of disappointed losers. Then they waited to hear their friend announce that he had drawn the winning number. But he did not speak. Finally, one number of the group asked him, knowingly, "What number did you draw?" "Six and seven-eights," he replied, holding up the hat's size tag.

That is a fairly good example of a man who is really down on his luck. But, in today's Gospel, Jesus gives us an even better one about a wealthy young man who leaves the comfort of his father's house to strike out on his own. The misguided, inexperienced youth and his fortune are soon parted. He is in a distant, famine-plagued land, and penniless. The only employment he can find is caring for pigs.

Then he discovers that they are eating better than he is. In Jesus' words, "He longed to fill his belly with the husks that were fodder for the pigs, but no one made a move to give him anything" (Luke 15:16). He was lonely. He was without resources. He was starving. There was no one to offer him a helping hand. He was really down on his luck. And it was in that state of utter desolation that he came "to his senses," as the Bible puts it. In the spirit of repentance, he acknowledges the urgent need for him to radically change his attitude and approach to life. And he sets off on the long journey back to his father's house. "While he was still a long way off, his father caught sight of him and was deeply moved. He ran out to meet him, threw his arms around his neck, and kissed him" (Luke 15:20).

Humbly and contritely, the son responds: "Father, I have sinned against God and against you; I no longer deserve to be called your son"(Luke 15:21). Whereupon, the joyful father begins to make preparations for a party to celebrate the boy's return.

Enter the villain in the piece--the boy's older brother. He envies his errant brother because he was so warmly received by their father. He is critical of the father's joyous, no-questions-asked response to his brother's return. Consequently, he responds in anger to his father's earnest plea that he join in the celebration. He will not accept his father's act of unconditional forgiveness and mercy toward his brother.

Many years ago, executives of the Time-Life publishing organization discovered that the company's profit-margin had shrunk to an alarmingly low level. Consequently, they began an intensive effort to try to cut costs. Efficiency experts suggested that substantial savings could be effected in the renewal department. There, 350 persons worked full time sending heartbreaking pleas to readers whose subscriptions were about to expire. (For example, "Will you dare face your children without "Time" magazine on your coffee table?") In any case, enormous quantities of these letters were being prepared manually. It was calculated that if a machine could be found to replace the manual labor, millions in overhead would be saved. In due course, IBM came to the rescue with an enormous computer, delivered to Time-Life in a blaze of kleig lights and fanfare. Then the new system was installed.

The name of each subscriber was put on a separate little plate and run through the vast machine. Whenever a nameplate came along that was within six weeks of expiration, a series of dots and dashes at the top of the tab triggered an electronic impulse which caused it to drop into a slot. The name was then affixed to one of the "heartbreaking" letters which was then folded, stuffed into an envelope, labeled, stamped, and dropped down a chute to the basement where a United States Branch Post Office was set up--all without a single human hand touching the operation. The system worked flawlessly for a while, until that fateful, hot, humid, sticky day in New York City when one of the nameplates stuck in the machine.

A few days later a lone sheepherder in Montana received 12,634 tearjerking letters asking him to subscribe to "Life" magazine. The sheepherder, who hadn't received a letter in years, took his knife, carefully slit open one of the mailbags and began reading his mail. Three weeks later, red-eyed, weary and up to his hips in 12,634 opened pieces of mail, he made out a check for $6.00, filled out a subscription coupon and sent it to the President of Time-Life personally, with the following note: "I give up!"

That is a story to remember when you get to wondering about the limits of God's mercy. You don't have to plead or beg for it. You don't have to ask Him 12,634 or 1,000 or 100 times for it. You don't have to ask him even once for it. God's mercy is always there, always being offered, always present to you. God already has said, "I give up": I love you; I forgive you. His forgiveness does not depend on whether or not you ask for it. There is nothing you can do to change who God is or God's attitude toward you. Any change in your relationship with God necessarily takes place in you. Your plea for mercy and forgiveness, therefore, represents your acknowledgement of God's mercy, your acceptance of His forgiveness.

The New Testament revelation of a gracious, understanding, merciful forgiving God, is meant to change your attitude toward God and His creation, not God's attitude toward you.

A Sunday-school teacher had a dream about the Lord Jesus. "Where are the souls of My children?" Jesus asked. "Here are their manners, the teacher replied. "They are well-behaved children; they listen respectfully to everything I say." Whereupon, Jesus took the children's manners in His hands and turned them into dust. "Where are My children's souls?" Jesus asked again. "Here are their bodies," the teacher offered. "They come to religion class promptly every week." Jesus took the bodies into His hands and turned them into dust. Again, He asked, "Where are My children's souls?" I can give you their brains," said the teacher. "They have memorized the list of books in the Bible; they know the names of the major and minor prophets; they can recite verbatim the Sermon on the Mount." Jesus took their brains in His hands and turned them into dust. "But where are the souls of My children," He asked sorrowfully. With that, the teacher awakened and, in an agonized voice, cried out: "I thought I had done much for my children, but it was all for nothing because I have not done the one thing needful. Hereafter, the only goal of my teaching shall be to communicate the incredible Good News of a Merciful, forgiving God who loves all His children and will never abandon them, even one of them."

If, like the older brother in the Parable of the Prodigal Son, we should call the wisdom of our Father's mercy into question, we have lost our way on the heavenly journey toward fulfillment. God's mercy is never withdrawn. It is yours to acknowledge and accept, whether you are riding high or you are down on your luck. In either case, you need it.