There are numerous kids’ books out that share variations on the title, “I Love You This Much.” In most of them, a parent is “showing” their child how much they love them by stretching out their arms. The child responds in kind but tries to extend the reach (to show that they love even more). To which the parent responds by extending it even further. And this goes on!
Maybe you have played this kind of game with your kids or grandkids.
In our gospel today from Luke 16, Jesus is teaching in a public space and is surrounded by “tax collectors and sinners.” The religious authorities start to comment about how Jesus is hanging around with all the wrong people. Doesn’t he know who these people are?
Of course he does, and Jesus goes on to tell a story to try to convey how much God loves people. He essentially says, “God loves you THIS MUCH” – as he sticks his arms out as wide as he can make them. And Jesus says that God loves you that much no matter who you are.
He then tells what may be one of the most tender and famous stories of the Christian scriptures – the story of the Prodigal Son.
This story comes up year after year in our Lenten reflections, and I am not sure that we can hear this story enough. And even though I have offered reflections on this before (here and here), I will build upon those again this year.
The word prodigal means “excessive,” and each of the characters in the story does things excessively. The youngest son is excessively selfish. The oldest son is excessively resentful and hard of heart. The father is excessively generous with his love and forgiveness. And the mother and/or sisters are excessively invisible!
[Note: Each year as we take up these passages, it’s ever important to reflect on what and who is mentioned and what and who is not mentioned. Of course Jesus could have intended to tell this story only about a father (maybe the mother had died, for example, and there were no sisters to speak of), but it is also likely that because of patriarchy and other forces the women in this story are ‘disappeared.’ I just find it hard to believe that in this family scenario there were no women present influencing all of the other actors!]
But each year, I like to explore each character and see what they might offer for us in our Lenten journey.
I think about the youngest son who asks for his inheritance and blows it all irresponsibly. He was only thinking about himself, his needs, his pleasure. Maybe we can relate to the youngest son’s energy these days. Have we been so self-absorbed that we’ve neglected some people or things that we need to get back to? Have we strayed from a path that we said we wanted to be on and know we need to change? Do we believe that we can be forgiven for things we’ve done and commit to the journey of self-forgiveness and making amends (if we have hurt others)? Do we have the courage to face the ones we have hurt and accept their response? What relationships might need our repair? Is there historical harm that we need to take responsibility for (personal or collective)?
Or maybe we’ve been embodying the energy of the older son who is angry with his younger brother. Have we given up on someone or keep holding a grudge? Are there people we believe that God cannot love (and therefore we don’t need to either)? Are we jealous or resentful of the life of another or have we withheld love or affection because we feel hurt somehow? Has our heart hardened and have we become cynical about people or the world? Do we need to release some form of pain that has kept us constricted? Are we upset with God about something and this is getting in the way of our spiritual life?
Maybe we relate to the father. Who might need our love and forgiveness these days? Is there someone who needs to hear something from us about their own goodness and worth? Is there a person or group of people that needs a welcome from us personally (or from a group that we are connected with)? Is there someone that we can ‘run towards’ in order to show them how much we love them? Or maybe we just need to feel God’s love these days and let God hold us and remind us of our own goodness and worth – no matter what has happened.
And maybe we relate to the invisible women these days. Maybe there is a situation that we are watching unfold and we feel no way to intervene in it – having to watch it play out and hoping for the best. Maybe we are behind the scenes these days – trying to encourage people to take steps that they need to take or trying to help them repair something that has been broken. Maybe our hearts are just broken with all the brokenness around us.
No matter where we find ourselves, our God wants to embrace us. I have always loved Fr. Jim’s words that, “You can’t make God love you any more. And you can’t make God love you any less.” God has enough room in God’s heart to love everyone, and that love is especially directed at the people who don’t feel that they are loved (or have been told somehow that God doesn’t love them).
I often wonder what it must have been like for the “tax collectors and sinners” to feel the welcome of Jesus. What did he say that helped them to feel that? What did he do and how did he act that told them clearly that they were welcomed in his presence? In modern words, how did he reassure them that this was “safe space” where they could be themselves and know that they did not have to be anything else? And how do we do the same?
Our journey is to open ourselves to the love of God, let it wash over us and then go into the world and let it wash over everyone we meet. This week may we feel that “God loves you THIS much” and then go and show others that very same love.
3 Comments
Theresa Tensuan-Eli
Mike, thank you for extending your reflection here to imagine those women who may have been part of this familial ecosystem but who are not named in the parable, and for animating what they may have been feeling or doing, all of which resonates so strongly with how I’m feeling this Lenten season. Thinking about the deep gratitude that underlies someone saying to someone else “I feel really seen by you” and grateful for all whom you encompass in your compassionate purview!
Sally Partner
Thank you for framing this well-known story with those thought-provoking questions, Mike. At this troubling time, I find myself constantly grappling with the question of whether I am doing enough personally and collectively, and your questions are a good framework for my thoughts.
Thank you especially for pointing out the all too frequent invisibility of women.
This blog is such a wonderful gift to our community-thank you so much for doing it!
George Dardess
Your voice is persuasive, Mike, because you write as you speak. You really do want to be heard by others, not just by yourself— which is a fault so difficult to overcome: to make one’s own judgmental self the secret audience of what one says. (Do I sound good? Is this effective? Will people like me? etc etc.)
And thanks for noting the “absent” women. We always have to remember how heavily each Gospel was “edited” to satisfy the prejudices and fears of the writer.