“A man had two sons. The younger said, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So
he divided his property between them” (Luke 15:11).
The opening motif of the Prodigal Son tale reveals the problem God has in dealing with any of us. The parent in the story symbolizes the heavenly Father, and the Prodigal in the same way stands for each of us who has been entrusted with a precious heritage of blessings which we had done nothing to deserve, along with the dignity of freedom to do with it as we choose.
Is it possible to blame the father in the tale for what happened to the younger son? Was his love exceedingly compassionate? Should he have used common sense and refused that exorbitant request? Surely the wise elder must have realized that his child would simply have to learn the hard way, together with all the consequences that accompanies confrontation with the harsh realities of life. Evidently the lesson was worth the high tuition price, as well as the physical, mental and spiritual agonies that accompany the action of self-will and defiance of parental guidance.
Freedom is a potent, dangerous gift to be entrusted to the human being. No wonder that monarchs, tyrants and other political leaders throughout the centuries have sought to build societies by withholding liberty from the individual. Fascism and Communism share that feature. The God whom Jesus Christ has revealed to the world, on the other hand, holds the human being in too high a regard to reduce or remove the element of freedom, insisting that he or she decide whom to serve and how to live.
Suppose the Prodigal’s father had refused, as most parents might feel he should have done, “for his own good.” He might in effect have put him under house arrest—grounded him, as it’s called. He might try to forbid him to carouse with his friends by withdrawing the means to enjoy himself. He might then have a son obedient and submissive not from choice or affection, merely from duty. He had one such son already.
Jesus is communicating to us the truth that God the heavenly Father is taking a chance on us, just as the Prodigal’s parent did, since the end result is well worth the price. The Lord Almighty wants to be our Father, not merely our Master. He longs for children who will love Him freely and completely, fully aware of the overwhelming gifts He offers us daily, the first of them being complete forgiveness of all that we have done to abuse, defile, ignore, reject, or presume upon in relation to Him. And the price the heavenly Father paid is far in excess of half of His possessions. It was the only Son He had.
Yet the tale is not about freedom as such. It’s a tale of obedience. If freedom is nothing more than an ongoing arbitrariness, there can be no integrity in such a personal relationship. Nobody, not even the person himself or herself, will be able to anticipate one’s actions in a given situation, since such people cannot know themselves how they will react. True freedom comes through self-mastery. It requires enormous self-discipline. Those who cannot or will not overcome their passions are doomed to a lifetime in a spiritual and mental pigsty of misery, fulfilling the gist of St. Augustine’s words:
“My two wills: One new, the other old; one spiritual, the other carnal, battle within me and tear at my soul by their discord.”
Coming home to the Father is to accept Him unconditionally, and to conform one’s own will to His grand plan for everyone and everything in heaven and on earth.