Sunday, March 6, is the Fourth Sunday of Lent (Year C). Mass Readings: Joshua 5:9, 10-12; Psalms 34:2-3, 4-5, 6-7; 2 Corinthians 5:17-21; Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

Among the many things to think about in the story of the Prodigal Son — the love of the father, the sin of the son and the stages of forgiveness — one might get overlooked: Why did he leave in the first place?

The well-known story tells the tale of the son who leaves his father’s house and farm for a faraway country, where a life of fun quickly becomes a life of disgrace. When he returns, his father welcomes him with open arms and a feast.

I think, in telling the story, Jesus might be hinting at one strong reason why the Prodigal Son left: because of his brother’s example.

Notice what happens when the older brother learns about the celebration his father is having. Immediately, “he became angry,” says the Gospel. He even “refused to enter the house.”

His wonderful father “came out and pleaded with him,” but the son was having none of it.

“Look,” he said, “all these years I served you, and not once did I disobey your orders; yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my friends. But when your son returns, who swallowed up your property with prostitutes, for him you slaughter the fattened calf.”

The wonderful father suddenly does not seem so wonderful after all. We might be inclined to think that he was, in fact, neglectful of his older son.

But the father has a great answer: “My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours.”

This should call to mind today’s second reading. The two sons’ relationships with their father are like our relationships with our heavenly Father.

As St. Paul tells us: “Whoever is in Christ is a new creation: The old things have passed away; behold, new things have come. So we are ambassadors for Christ, as if God were appealing through us.”

St. Paul says that our relationships with God should transform our outlooks. When we look at our lives without Christ, they look like every other life. When we look at our lives with faith, they are transformed into enchanted lives filled with the Father’s gifts.

However, the older brother didn’t see everything around him as a gift. He looked at the generosity that surrounded him and assumed he was entitled to it. He saw all the generosity of his father and didn’t wonder why it was so much, but why it wasn’t even more.

Little brothers learn from big brothers. We can only assume that this big brother passed on his spirit of entitlement to the prodigal.

Do we teach a spirit of bored entitlement with God’s gifts? Or do we teach awe and respect for them?

“But now we must celebrate and rejoice,” says the father, “because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.”

We hope the older brothers among us can still be found, too.

 

Tom Hoopes is writer in residence at Benedictine College in Atchison, Kansas.