The Prodigal Son is a story that has deep roots for many of us. The younger son is irresponsible, and wastes his inheritance. The older one is resentful of the welcome that their father gives him anyway. That father is too busy loving both sons to give breath to scolding.
A woman who was on the planning team for the worship service told about a time she was in conversation with God.
She was in the shower thinking about the way her younger siblings made bad choices, and got away with it. One was her parents' favorite and was never punished.
"Lord, I'd like to be the Prodigal Son sometimes."
"Who says you aren't?"
The emphasis in the talk was to plunk ourselves in all the roles, not
just the one we default to. It can take effort to see ourselves in a new way, after many years of casting ourselves in stagnant stereotypes. Most of us flit at least a little between the hero, the victim, the obliger, and the upholder. Giving ourselves the depth of three dimensions rather than two brings with it more self awareness, which must precede meaningful change.
When we see the dynamics between the three characters, it adds still more gaps for light to seep in. When I am truly sorry for how I have treated someone I love, letting go of the expectation that they welcome me back, there is the possibility for celebration. If I admit to myself that I am jealous of someone else's good fortune, it may crack me open just enough to find out that God loves me anyway, making the jealousy irrelevant.
Benjamin listened intently to the service. I love that he does, and when we were invited to write about it his picture was elegant. The discrepancy between how we have treated our sons is stark. One will never leave home. He is not expected to earn his keep. He has made mistakes that have hurt us all, yet the jubilation I feel with his stability now makes me want to kiss his feet.
