The more the parable of the prodigal son is proclaimed, the more parallels there seem to surface between its characters, themes, and promises, those of the Old Testament, and those of the kingdom of heaven. While all three–the parable, the Hebrew Scriptures, and the heavenly kingdom–have a timeless role in salvation history, our tendency as members of the audience as well as participants in the story is to place the three on a timeline of present, past, and future.
Especially when it’s, say, 4:00 AM on a Sunday morning in Denver, CO and your greatest desire is to rest after three days of travelling with your parents, lacking sleep, visiting a graduate school with that lack of sleep, packing as many Catholic activities as possible into the day after that visit, and preparing for a long drive back home at which you’ll arrive just hours before having to return work; yet you’re tossing and turning in an unfamiliar bed and finally decide to revisit your blog after months of inactivity to record thoughts on the day’s Laetare Sunday Gospel reading with the televised Mass and then Disney’s Cars playing ironically in the background.
In a completely hypothetical circumstance such as this, we are reminded of how bound by time we currently are and the habit we’ve made of organizing the events of our and our ancestor’s lives on a timeline. And, while it’s true that Sacred Scripture and the heavenly kingdom exist within but also independently of the structure of time, for the first, second, and Gospel readings for yesterday, timing is everything. (So is food, but we’ll build our appetites and get to that in a minute.)
“Whoever is in Christ is a new creation,” Paul says. “The old things have passed away; behold, new things have come” (2 Cor 5:17). Of all the epistles’ links between Old Testament and Gospel readings, the one for this past Laetare Sunday inspired me significantly, enough to forfeit my attempts to go back to sleep.
Paul is attributing the eternal joys of heaven to reconciliation. Both “the old” and “the new” creations are “from God, who has reconciled us to himself through Christ and given us the ministry of reconciliation” (2 Cor 5:18). “The old” binds us to the realm of sin, but “the new” breaks that bond and propels us into eternity through the timeless reconciliatory power of the Cross. And, thanks to the Mass, we receive a glimpse of and even get to receive some of the “new things” to come.
As if that’s not already exciting enough, the power of reconciliation, of our Lord tirelessly seeking us out when we turn our backs on Him and then embracing us joyfully when we turn our backs on sin, is further revealed upon learning that the ancient Israelites experienced the same foretaste of heaven and reunion with God.
Once the Israelites finally reached their Promised Land of Canaan, the food God provided them on their journey ceased, or passed away. “No longer was there manna for the Israelites, who that year ate of the yield of the land of Canaan”–the manna was no longer necessary (Jos 5:12b). You could say that the old way of life, the old way of being nourished and planning meals, the old way of navigating the journey, and the journey itself had passed away. All these things had been replaced with or perfected by something new, something better.
Now, the land of Canaan and the father’s estate in Luke’s parable have always been likened to the kingdom of heaven, but I have yet to discover any commentaries, whether from the early Church Fathers or modern biblical scholars, on the connection between the abundant feasting in the Promised Land and the glorious banquet in the father of the prodigal son’s house.
As always, I’m concerned about the food situation.
Here’s some food for thought–something for our minds to chew on, if you will–to consolidate my scattered reflections:
- The Canaanites no longer needed manna to strengthen them on their journey because they had arrived at and beheld the new creation, and because now they had a better source of nourishment, or life. We require the Eucharist to carry us along our journey to heaven, but once we see Jesus face-to-face, we will no longer require His True Presence in the form of bread.
- When the prodigal son turned his back on his father, he began to starve. The further away he traveled from the estate, the hungrier he became, but the minute he returned to his father’s house, a feast was being prepared for him. A feast was waiting for the Israelites and a feast will be waiting for us.
- We go where there’s food. Typically, when we sin in order to taste worldly foods, our Father out of love for us and respect for our freedom allows us to indulge in them. For a time, we may be able to squander our inheritance on unhealthy foods, but the world will eventually leave us starved.
- And, let us never forget, spiritual hunger is greater than any physical hunger we will experience. The prodigal son’s physical hunger is both representative of spiritual starvation and what inspires the sinner to seek spiritual nourishment through reconciliation.
- The first reading from Joshua and the Gospel reading from Luke intimately wed the Sacraments of Reconciliation and Holy Communion together. Those ancient Israelites who were unable to enter Canaan (Moses being among them) probably would have been able to order unleavened cakes and parched grain off the menu like the new generation, instead of the same old manna they’d been living off of, if only they had continued to seek to “be reconciled to God” (2 Cor 5:20b). True contrition brings about true nourishment, fulfillment, and satisfaction, which we taste here on earth in the Eucharist.
Have you ever returned to your parents’ house with the hope of enjoying a delicious, free, home-cooked meal? Or perhaps do you still live there, sometimes just for that reason? Doesn’t most food seem to taste better when someone else prepares it for you?
There is no avoiding our subjection to time on Earth. We know a bountiful banquet is being prepared for us but must be patient and live off of manna for a while (not that it tastes bad–we just know that our taste buds are dulled), rather than squander our time and inheritance on that which leaves us unfulfilled. Fortunately, we receive a sampling from the banquet table in the Promised Land and are free to visit there any time through “the ministry of reconciliation” and the Liturgy of the Eucharist: turning away from sin towards the merciful presence of God among us during the precious time that we do have (2 Cor 5:18).
Stop to Smell the Flowers 