The Messenger - June 2010 - The Pope's Intentions
By Robin Koning, S.J. - 01 June 2010

 By asking for his inheritance, the younger son effectively says to his father, ‘I wish you were dead’. And there we see a powerful image of sin– sin as a death wish. A death wish aimed at God or other people. A death wish by which I react to a problem, a sense of powerlessness, a conflict, by just wanting to get rid of its source.

This death wish may be expressed in a variety of ways or attitudes: I wish there were no God; I wish this person were out of my life; this unborn child is ruining my life and my plans; get these homeless people off my streets and out of my face – lock them up for life; I wish this co-worker would get fired; I hope he fails in that project.

These are all ways in which we buy into what Pope John Paul constantly referred to as the culture of death – that culture which seeks to solve problems by getting rid of other people, even to the point of killing them. If this person or these people were out of the way, then I could be free to run the world as I want – to do what I want, when I want, how I want, with whomever I want, as often as I want, no questions asked, no guilt to feel, no harm to myself.

Thus begins the younger son’s sin – his implicit wish for the death of his father. But, as with all sin, the result is his own death. With his father far away, he ends up broken, penurious, in a pig-sty – for the Jewish people, a symbol of utter degradation. Emotional despair, moral bankruptcy, spiritual death.

‘This son of mine was dead,’ the father says later (15.24, 32). The death-wish, the desire for spiritual murder, become the death-wish as spiritual suicide.

At first glance, the older son seems very different from his younger brother. In terms of external appearances, he even appears to be without sin – obedient, faithful, the stay-at-home type, doing what he’s told, making no wrong moves, always pleasing his father, hard-working, reliable, a solid citizen, ever-ready to help. But the welcome afforded his returned brother is too much for him. His guard slips and we glimpse the real state of his soul when he refuses to go into the party. He too is filled with a death wish, with hatred and resentment towards both his father and his brother.

Let’s listen to the older brother’s words again, and how they drip with resentment. ‘Listen! All these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him.’ In this speech, he reveals the depths of his resentment and hatred. And in so doing, we see how he, too, has been living in a pig sty.

Thus we see how similar he and his brother really are. Despite all external tidiness and good order, his pig-sty is internal, in his own heart, a mess of hatred and resentment and unforgiveness and hurt. And while he never removed himself physically to a distant country, his words reveal that his heart has been just as far from his father. Just as was the case with his brother, his spiritual death wish has become spiritual suicide, killing off the flow of spiritual life within him.

The father in the parable has chosen life, not death. When the younger son returns, inspired by memories of home, the father rushes to welcome him. He will hear nothing of the talk of not deserving to be a son; of course he does not deserve it! It is freely given, and the father shows this by the extravagance of the welcome he offers.

This extravagance also triggers the possibility of the older son’s freedom. For in the face of this love, he begins to reveal his own secret rebellion. The father listens attentively, but will hear nothing of stopping the celebration. No death wish can conquer his desire for life.

The death-wishes of the two sons are very real and very destructive. The unconditional love offered by the father is even more real and offers a life stronger than death.

The Father’s love and life are embodied in Christ, who absorbs all our death wishes and rises above them. And this we celebrate in our Eucharist, our joining in the heavenly banquet offered us by the Father, for we too were dead and have been brought to life, were lost and have been found.