In the parable, the citizens of the far country clearly do not treat the young man well. He is sent to feed the swine. For a Jewish person hearing this parable, this detail would have been startling, because swine symbolized everything that was unclean for Jews. While the young man feeds the swine, he is so hungry that he would eat the pigs’ food if he could. He has fallen as far as possible from right relationship with his father into all that is unclean and degrading.
Although he is hungry and would eat anything, “no one gave him anything” (Lk 15:16). He has been abandoned by the citizens of this far country. He has no community; he is lonely. The fact that loneliness and isolation are prevalent here only exacerbates the problem of famine that the country faces. Physical want and need, as well as feeling alone, always seem to make moral depravity more acute. This is true in our own situation too. Things feel worse when we are hungry or tired or, especially, when we are lonely. Isolation takes away our hope, which is forged and strengthened by communal relationships.
Note the contrast between the father of the parable, who gave a large inheritance even though his son disowned him, and the citizens of the far country who now give him nothing even though he has “joined himself” to them. The father in this parable gives us a glimpse into the way our heavenly Father loves us. He showers good gifts upon us, even when we don’t return his love. On the other hand, the citizens of the world have nothing substantial to offer us, and they will exploit everything we have.
Up from the bottom
Only when he hits rock bottom does conversion begin for this young man. In the next verse, we read that “he came to himself” (Lk 15:17). This is a moment of metanoia, a turning of the mind. He comes face to face with himself.7 He must recognize, in his mind first and then in his heart, that he has had a terrible attitude and acted in ways that have harmed him and his closest relations. Without this moment, the son cannot acknowledge the wrong that he has committed.
For every person, there is at least one significant moment when he realizes that he has sinned and strayed far from the heavenly Father’s plan for his life. Yet, in the life of ongoing conversion, our understanding of this reality deepens over time because the grace of God brings us face to face with ourselves time and time again.
In the same verse, the son thinks to himself, “How many of my father’s hired servants have bread enough and to spare, but I perish here with hunger!” (Lk 15:17). He decides that it is better for him to return to his father’s house, even as a slave, than to remain in this far country. In the house of a loving father, even a slave is a son. That is why this young man is willing to say, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me as one of your hired servants” (Lk 15:18–19).
At this point, the son decides to rise and go to his father. He is no longer just thinking about it. He has decided to act, as each of us must decide and act. In the ongoing way of conversion, we must continually decide how we will return to the love of the heavenly Father, and we must carry out those decisions with courage and conviction.
The suffering love of the father
While the son treks back to his father’s house, his father sees him coming, and the parable tells us he “had compassion” (Lk 15:20). The father has been suffering too because of this strained relationship. More than that, he has been watching for his estranged son. We can imagine the father gazing out the window, just waiting for his beloved son to return. The father’s suffering shows us that there is no way to have compassion unless we too have suffered. The word compassion means “to suffer with.” It is sad, but beautiful: The father and the son have been suffering together, from different sides, throughout this estrangement. That is precisely why the father “ran and embraced him and kissed him” (Lk 15:20). The father waited, not with pride, but with a longing to have a restored relationship with his son, at any cost.
“Father,” says the son, “I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son” (Lk 15:21). The son knows that he cannot simply ignore his wrongdoing. He has to face it and admit it. For us as members of the Church, this happens in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. This sacrament is crucial for the ongoing process of conversion. Naming our sins in the sacrament, and bringing them back as often as necessary, allows us to submit them to God’s grace and allows us to continue to grow.
Before I was received fully into the Catholic Church, I never named a specific sin against God; I only asked generically for forgiveness. I have realized, over the years, that naming specific sins brings a necessary level of accountability for cutting out those habits from my life. When I confess specific sins, even if they are small, I begin searching my conscience for more serious sins so I can get those out too.
The best news of all for the son in the parable is that his father does not want him back in any diminished capacity. He wants his son in a fully restored, right relationship, complete with robe, ring, sandals, and a great banquet (Lk 15:22–23). The celebration can commence because a son has returned to life. This is true of our relationship with the heavenly Father too. He longs for us to be restored, no matter how we may have rejected his loving plan. We are worth being restored to our place in his plan as royal heirs. There is much rejoicing in heaven every time we turn back from our sinful ways, our egotistical trip into the far country of sin.
Generosity, not jealousy
The story doesn’t end with the festival, however. The elder son is jealous of the father’s mercy and generosity. He wants to know why he has not received a fattened calf and a festival, since he has always done his duty to the father. It even seems that the elder son wants nothing to do with the celebration for his younger brother. He does not want to participate in the joyful moment.
There is ample opportunity for personal reflection here, especially for those of us who have committed our lives to Christ and his Church. Have we ever been angry about God’s mercy toward others, thinking they didn’t deserve it? Are we holding a grudge against someone who has left our side and chosen to squander good things? The heavenly Father’s mercy goes far beyond our faulty human reason. Instead, it is based on sheer, undying love.
I find that I often react like the older son. I want to place conditions on God’s mercy. I think particularly of people who have harmed me unjustly, or broken relationship with me like the younger son did with the father in the parable. I want justice. I want those people to apologize for their wrongdoing. Yet mercy is far greater than justice. God’s mercy is infinite, and I am called to imitate him.
The parable does not tell us whether the older son chooses to enter into the celebration or if he chooses to remain outside. His father invites him in, and that is all we know. Here we see how Scripture is “living and active” (Heb 4:12). It invites us into the mystery as a participant. We do not know what the older son chooses because, in the life of grace, we are the older son, and we still have to choose how to react when the Lord calls us to exercise a joyful mercy. The parable doesn’t have a clear ending because we are the ending, and we have to make a choice. Will we choose to imitate the Lord’s generous mercy?
Questions for Deeper Understanding and Reflection
1. Why do you think this parable is so central to Christian spirituality? Why is it so beloved by many?
2. Which title of the parable most resonates with you: the parable of the prodigal son, the parable of the loving father, or the parable of the two sons? Why?
3. Have you ever treated someone close to you as the younger son treated his father? Have you ever strained or ended relationships out of pride or any other serious sin? What happened, and where does that relationship stand now?
4. Have you ever found yourself in a “far country,” away from God and the Church? What caused you to realize this? How did