There’s
a book and movie about a local DC-area boy named Chris McCandless.
He
graduated from Annandale high school.
He
was friendly, bright, capable, athletic, independent and idealistic.
He
went away to college in Atlanta.
And
as soon as he graduated from college,
He
cut off all communications with his family, without explanation.
It
turns out that he was nursing a secret grudge against his father.
Because
of some mistakes he learned that his father had made years earlier.
Chris
went West to explore the deserts and the wilderness.
His
family yearned for his return.
But
he was lost to them.
Chris
hiked and hitchhiked around the West working odd jobs.
He
was an experienced hiker and decided to test himself.
He
decided to walk alone into the Alaskan wilderness with few supplies.
He
would survive by hunting game and by finding edible plants.
And
he did exactly that—for months—alone.
He
took some classic books with him.
He
read a lot and thought a lot.
He
read Thoreau, and Chesterton and Pasternak, and other philosophical authors.
They
strengthened his appreciation and love of nature.
And
also gave him new insights into personal relationships.
His
readings perhaps led him to forgive his father and decide,
After
years of separation, to return home.
Chris’
story is both very similar and very different from our Gospel stories.
They
all deal with losing and finding, and mercy and forgiveness.
The
father of the prodigal son was extravagant in his mercy and forgiveness.
When
he saw his son returning to him he didn’t wait.
He
ran to his son and embraced him.
Before
his son could barely apologize,
The
father was restoring him to his honored position,
and starting a great
celebration.
Wouldn’t
it be great to have an extravagantly merciful, forgiving father like that?
Well,
we do!
That’s
the main point of today’s Gospel.
That’s
the good news of today’s Gospel.
God
is that father, and we’re that lost son.
God
is that shepherd, and we’re that lost sheep.
God
is that woman, and we’re that lost coin.
And
there is always great joy and celebration when we’re found again.
That’s
how God will receive us when we turn to him.
These
three stories in today’s Gospel may be the
Greatest
good-news stories we sinners will ever hear.
But
the Gospel also raises other, less direct messages.
We
know that we should try to imitate God’s love and mercy.
The
prodigal son’s older brother can’t seem to do that.
Can
we?
Can
we be that merciful father, or mother, or spouse, or sibling, or friend?
As
in these three stories,
It
seems that Jesus is forever trying to teach us a lesson.
Telling
us and showing us how to treat one another.
“Love
one another as I have loved you.”
“Forgive
us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”
Chris
McCandless, in his Alaskan adventure, wasn't trying to teach us a
lesson.
But
he did.
Chis
may have decided to forgive and to return home.
But
he never made it.
He
died of starvation, alone at his Alaskan campsite.
Let’s
heed the unintended lesson that Chris gave us.
We
don’t have forever to act.
Let’s
turn to our father—now.
Let’s
rejoice at his extravagant forgiveness and mercy.
And
let’s give our forgiveness and mercy wherever it’s needed – now.
No comments:
Post a Comment