(Fourth Sunday of Lent (C): This homily was given on March 22, 1998 at St. Pius X Church, Westerly, R.I. by Fr. Raymond Suriani. Read Luke 15: 1-3; 11-32.)

"Never underestimate God’s mercy—or his justice!"

In many respects, the two sons in this gospel parable were quite different. In fact, you might say they were from opposite ends of the universe. For example: one stayed with his father, the other left him; one fulfilled his responsibilities to his family, the other didn’t; one was obedient, the other wasn’t; one saved his money wisely, the other spent his foolishly. And yet, in spite of their glaring differences, there is one thing that these two boys did have in common (besides the same male parent): They both underestimated their father’s mercy! The younger son made this mistake by not believing that his father would forgive him. It’s quite clear from the way Jesus tells the story: this so-called "prodigal son" thought his case was hopeless. After he squandered his inheritance, he gave up the hope that he could ever be forgiven. He didn’t even consider it a remote possibility! Notice that he didn’t go back and say, "Father, please forgive me. I know how merciful and loving you are; please treat me with compassion." No. He had convinced himself that his father was ready to beat him senseless! And so he returned in fear, hoping that he could somehow convince his dad to treat him like one of the hired servants. I find it amazing--this son was so out of touch with his father’s mercy, that he didn’t even notice how excited and happy his dad was to see him! Not even a loving embrace and kiss from his father woke him up! Petrified, this boy just stood there, and mechanically recited the words that he must have rehearsed over and over again on his journey home: "Father, I have sinned against God and against you; I no longer deserve to be called your son."

And then we have the other child—the older son. The prodigal underestimated his father’s mercy by not believing that his dad would forgive him; this one underestimated his father’s mercy by objecting to the forgiveness his brother received. After his brother’s return, he says to his father, "For years now I have slaved for you. I never disobeyed one of your orders, yet you never gave me so much as a kid goat to celebrate with my friends. Then, when this son of yours returns after having gone through your property with loose women, you kill the fatted calf for him." His message there is clear: "This kid doesn’t deserve your mercy! You should be giving him a good beating, not a good dinner!"

The fact is: there may be times in our lives when we take on the attitude of that first son (the prodigal one) and doubt God’s ability and desire to forgive us our sins—and this can happen even after we’ve repented of them a made a good confession! At other times, we might be like that second son and object to the idea that God would have mercy on someone else. From our narrow, human perspective it doesn’t seem fair that God would forgive a person who did such a terrible thing—to us or to someone we love!

Both attitudes are wrong! That’s one of the great lessons we learn from this parable. God’s mercy is never to be underestimated—either for ourselves or for someone else!

But if his mercy is never to be underestimated, then neither is his JUSTICE! What’s true of one must be true of the other. That’s because mercy and justice are both aspects of God’s love. As incredible as it may sound, the love of God is perfectly merciful and perfectly just at the same time. This, admittedly, is hard for us to understand, because on this side of the grave we never experience perfect justice and perfect mercy from other human beings.

And where do we find God’s justice on this earth? God’s justice is found (or made manifest) whenever he allows people to experience the consequences of their choices—good or bad. In this parable, for example, the older son experienced God’s justice while his younger brother was out ruining his life. Scripture indicates that he was back at home with his father, enjoying a peaceful existence with his family and friends. Just like George Bailey, this older boy had a wonderful life--although he didn’t fully appreciate it. That "wonderful life" was a manifestation of God’s justice. It was based on the good choices this son had made: the choice to stay with his dad; the choice to be responsible and save his money. His younger brother, on the other hand, experienced the justice of the Lord when he was having dinner with Porky Pig and friends--which was the negative consequence of his free choice to squander his inheritance.

"But Fr. Ray, things don’t always happen like they did in this story. In this life, nice guys don’t always finish first." True. That’s because God’s justice will not be fully manifested until we leave this world. On this earth, sad to say, justice is only partial at best. As St. Paul tells us in Romans 2: on Judgment Day God "will repay every man for what he has done: eternal life to those who strive for glory, honor and immortality by patiently doing right; wrath and fury to those who selfishly disobey the truth and obey wickedness. . . .With God there is no favoritism." That line of Scripture reminds us that we can NEVER, EVER escape justice--no matter how hard we try. The man who went on a shooting rampage a couple of weeks ago at the Connecticut lottery headquarters, killing four people and then turning the gun on himself—that man might have thought that he was escaping justice, BUT HE WASN’T! All he did was to take himself out of an imperfect justice system and put himself into a perfect one: one with a perfect Judge, who makes the right judgment every time, and who isn’t influenced by crafty, smooth-talking lawyers!

The prodigal son and his brother both underestimated God’s mercy (God’s mercy as manifested through their earthly father). In today’s world, where the Ten Commandments are often thought of as the Ten Suggestions, people tend to underestimate God’s justice. The great saints underestimated neither. The attitude of the saints is expressed beautifully, I would say, in the Jesus Prayer: "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner." The saints knew they were sinners who deserved punishment because of God’s perfect justice. But they also, at the very same time, had an unwavering, unbreakable confidence in God’s perfect mercy. And so they never feared the consequences of repentance (like the prodigal son did). They never feared "going home" to their heavenly Father—especially in confession. That’s because they knew that if they sincerely repented, the heavenly Father’s perfect mercy would be theirs. May it be ours as well during this season of Lent—and always.