The Return of the Prodigal Son

I'm reading a book called The Return of the Prodigal Son and it has some text that I wanted to share. The author, Henri Nouwen, became intrigued by Rembrandt's painting of the prodigal son, and explores how he has taken on each of the roles of the main characters. In the beginning of the book, he is dealing with himself (and us) as we act like the younger son -- the one who ran away. He first discusses the younger son as he leaves home. He compares the act of asking for his half of the inheritance as though the son were telling his father "I wish you were dead". In biblical times the father might choose to give the sons their inheritance before the his death, but the father had the right to continue using the land etc. until his death. By leaving for a foreign country, the younger son effectively reiterated his insult by denying his father's continued use. He says…

Leaving home is, then much more than an historical event bound to time and place. It is a denial of the spiritual reality that I belong to God with every part of my being, that God holds me safe in an eternal embrace, that I am indeed carved in the palm of God's hands and hidden in their shadows. Leaving home means ignoring the truth that God has "fashioned me in secret, moulded me in the depths of the earth and knitted me together in my mother's womb." Leaving home is living as though I do not yet have a home and must look far and wide to find one. Home is the center of my being where I can hear the voice that says "You are my Beloved, on you my favor rests.

Why would we ever want to leave this home that has everything we want. The "why" is that the world beckons to us with its voice telling us that we have to prove our worth. It suggests that we won't be loved if we don't prove ourselves worthy of love since love isn't free. We effectively "leave home" whenever we lose faith in the voice that calls us Beloved and try to please the voices that offer us a myriad of ways to win their love. At issue here is the fundamental question, to whom do I belong, to God or to the world. As long as I keep running around asking "Do you love me. Do you really love me?" I give power to the voices of the world, and put myself in bondage to the world. God desires -- more than anything -- that we stay home, but loves us too much to force that on us. He allows us to make the choice, all the while hoping that we'll make the right choice.

And yet, many, if not most of us choose to run away from home and seek after the love of the world for at least a time. We soon find that the siren's song of the world lies. The world only wants us to the extent that it can use our beauty, riches, and brains for its own use. As soon as it has used us up, it leaves us to feed the pigs. The younger son became fully aware of how lost he was when no one around showed the slightest interest in him. He describes the differences between how two of the apostles handled the issue…

Judas betrayed Jesus. Peter denied him. Both were lost children. Judas, no longer able to hold on to the truth that he remained God's child, hung himself. Peter, in the midst of his despair, claimed it and returned with many tears. Judas chose death. Peter chose life. I realize that this choice is before me always. Constantly I am tempted to wallow in my own lostness and lose touch with my original goodness, my God-given humanity, my basic blessedness, and thus allow the powers of death to take charge. This happens over and over again whenever I say to myself: "I am no good. I am useless. I am worthless. I am unlovable. I am a nobody." There are always constant events and situations that I can single out to convince myself and others that my life is just not worth living, that I am only a burden, a problem, a source of conflict, or an exploiter of other people's time and energy. Many people live with this dark, inner sense of themselves. In contrast to the prodigal, they let the darkness absorb them so completely that there is no light left to turn towards and return to. They might not kill themselves physically, but spiritually they are no longer alive. They have given up faith in their original goodness and thus, also in their Father who has given them their humanity.

But when God created man and woman in his own image, he saw that "it was very good," and, despite the dark voices, no man or woman can ever change that.

The choice for my own sonship, however, is not an easy one. The dark voices of my surrounding world try to persuade me that I am no good and that I can only become good by earning my goodness through "making it" up the ladder of success. These voices lead me quickly to forget the voice that calls me "my son, the Beloved," reminding me of my being loved independently of any acclaim or accomplishment. These dark voices drown out that gentle, soft, light-giving voice that keeps calling me "my favorite one"; they drag me to the periphery of my existence and make me doubt that there is a loving God waiting for me at the very center of my being.

It is at the point that we finally realize we are at bottom, and then remember that there is a Father back home that truly loves us, that we decide to journey back home. And yet, the decision to go home is only the first step. We often have much to overcome before we can get there.