While You Were Yet Far Off: The Prodigal's Journey Home

Welcome to Hill Country Homilies. Weekly homilies from Holy Annunciation

Orthodox Church in Liberty Hill, Texas. Holy Annunciation is an

old calendar Orthodox church sharing the faith of the Apostles

and the love of Christ with all who seek His truth. Now,

let's listen to this week's homily.

The Name of the Father and Son the Holy Spirit

Gord to Jesus Christ. Set if you wish, my beloved

brothers and sisters in Christ. This second Triodean Sunday, we

hear the gospel parable of the Prodigal Son. I'm not

gonna lie. This parable may be my favorite parable to

preach on, because there's just so much in it that

we can work with. It follows very nicely, the parable

the Publican and the Pharisee is. If last Sunday calls

us to humility, this Sunday calls us to act on

our humility by turning it into repentance to our father.

In this parable, the younger son of Prodigal demands his

inheritance from his father early, and we're told that he

goes into a far country where he squanders the entirety

of his inheritance with reckless and licentious living. And he

finds himself desperately alone and on the brink of death

from hunger and facing that, he turns homeward, And as

he comes, his father doesn't wait for an apology, but

he runs out to embrace him and restores him his

prior dignity with his robe in his ring and a

grand celebration. And meanwhile, the older brother, who faithfully served

his father for all those years, is filled with resentment

at the reception that his brother is received. And this

parable challenges us on many levels to examine our own hearts.

Are we the younger brother who needs to humble himself

and repentance and return home? Are we the older brother

whose devoted service to the father has driven us to

hatred or envy of those that do not serve in

the same way. Now, in understanding this parable, in examining ourselves,

I want to start a place that is a little

different than where we usually start. Usually when we talk

about this parable, we start with the youngest son demanding

his inheritance from his still living father, a most presumptuous act,

to be sure, and we would talk about how the

church fathers understood this demand that was basically his own

free will, that he demanded, so that he would proceed

to waste that great gift abundantly. But I wanted to

start instead at what happened once he received his portion

of his inheritance, because we are told that after receiving

his inheritance not many days later, the younger son gathered

everything together and took his journey into a far country.

And read this, I think there's kind of this intuitive idea.

The son's about to go live in a way that

his father will greatly disapprove of, and so he removes

himself far, far away, far from his view. And we

read this and with it there's this sense of distance

that's created by him going to the far country. But

that's a little bit of a dangerous misunderstanding of this

parable because the fathers tell us that when the scripture

says he goes to the far country, they's not talking

about geographic distance. They're not talking about a physical separation.

But the fathers tell us, as Euthemius the Great said,

the younger son's journey is not a separation of place,

but by separation in point of virtue. That is, the

youngest son's journey is the same journey each of us

undertake when we choose to sin, because sin separates us

from God. Not in terms of proximity, though it might

be helpful to think of it that way, but in

the sense that our sin necessarily removes us from union

with God, because God can have no union with that

which is not pure. This separation, whether it's millimeters or miles,

in a physical sense, is grievous from the beginning, because

it is the spiritual separation of man and God. Saint

Augustine said, the far country is forgetfulness of God, a

forgetful which is mutual. For inasmuch as the sinner forgets God,

God in his turn, is in a manner forgetful of

the sinner. The far country is more than distance. It

is a spiritual alienation from God. Today, we don't need

to even physically leave our house to enter the far country.

We enter it every time we prefer our smartphones to prayer,

every time we chase fleeting pleasures while neglecting the divine services.

Every time we measure our worth by social media our

likes rather than our standing before God. In our culture

of instant gratification and digital distraction, we're constantly feeding on

those empty husks of entertainment, consumerism, virtual relationships while starving

ourselves spiritually. Yet even here in this self imposed exile,

Christ waits when removes himself from the providential care of God.

By our wilful separation from him, we find ourselves in

the same positions the prodigal. We live a life of

waste and consumption as we live bereast of the grace

that God has prepared for us. But these are self

willed wounds that we suffer, and because they are of

our own doing, that same will permits us that permitted

us to turn away from God can bring us back

in repentance. And the first step home is recognizing that

we have wandered away, because in these days and in

this place we can suffer severe spiritual malnourishment, even as

we live in material abundance. Now, brothers and sisters, if

we can rouse ourselves from our spiritual separation from God,

then this is where we reap the good news of

the Parable. Because in the Parable we see the younger

son came to the resation that he's dying outside of

life with his father. We're told that he came to himself,

that he saw his true human state, and he realized

what he had to do, and he struggles with this,

He struggles with the words that he's going to say

and the position he's going to ask to subjugate himself

to just to live again in the care of his father.

And he's willing to trade his position for that of

a servant. And probably every last one of us knows

that feeling of when we have to drag ourselves to

our parents and confess some great error or wrong that

we've committed. Worrying, dread, anxiety, all those filled the moments

before that meeting. But here we see that as the

prodigal journey's home, and while he is still a great

way off, his father saw him and had compassion. He ran,

and he fell on his neck that as he put

himself on his face before him, and he kissed him.

The reception the prodigal had not so much has dared

to hope for. And consider how truly remarkable this green

is because in those times, in that culture, elderly men

of status did not run. It was considered as shameful

and undignified. Yet the father runs to the son, abandoning

all propriety. This is the overflowing bounty of God's love.

He doesn't wait for us to complete our repentance, to

polish up our confession, or to prove ourselves worthy of

his mercy. He rushes towards us while we're still a

great way off, and he heals us with his love.

Saint Gregory of Nissa says that the Father is reconciled

to the prodigal as soon as he resolved to repent.

This kind of unconditional love is almost foreign to our

modern culture. We see things as earned, as deserved, as merited.

We see w wars being conditioned based on performance, on appearance,

or on utility, and it's easy, albeit dangerous, to bring

that same approach to our spiritual life. We can fall

into things that we must earn God's mercy through enough

prostrations or perfect fasting or eloquent prayers. But the Gospel

shatters that kind of idea. God's love isn't a reward

for the righteous, it isn't a gift to the perfect,

but it is free to the broken, and we don't

earn it. No sooner did that prodigal turn his face

toward the Father than he was fully enveloped in the

love he had for him from the beginning. And it's

not only the unconditional love of the Father that we

take hope in, but also the unlimited forgiveness that he offers.

The prodigal had wasted his life in the most heinous

and licentious of sins, and he did that after first

turning his back on the Father. Insult added to injury,

as it were. But as soon as he began his

journey of repentance, the Father was already receiving him with joy.

This should be a great comfort to us all. There's

no shame in returning to confession after months or years away. Remember,

the Father is already running towards you. Your return doesn't

depend on your worthiness, but on his relentless love for mankind.

And if you think your sins are too great for God,

it was parable, says Otherwise. Believing our sins to be

unforgivable is the height of pride. How can we for

a moment consider that our son is so great that

they can overcome the omnipotent God. If any sin is

truly unforgivable, then the person forgiving it or being asked

forgiveness cannot be God God, because sin can never overcome God.

Those kind of thoughts become a self important delusion. Nothing

that we have done is so horrible that it puts

us out of the reach of God's forgiveness. And finally,

I want to say a word about the older brother.

I like to mention because I think we're always in

as much danger of being the older brother as we

are of being the prodigal. The older brother was such

a good and faithful servant. Imagine the heartbreak the father

suffered at the younger brother's leaving. The older brother was

sitting there bearing it with him the whole time, and

patience and co suffering. And when the younger brother returned

and was received with joy, the older brother cracked. Years

of service and devotion bubbled out in envy and anger,

and he tells the Father, these many years I served you,

and you never gave me a kid to make merry

with my friends. Here, the older brother represents the subtle

danger of religious pride, serving God while resenting others, keeping

the rules but losing love. He never left home, but

his heart drifted away from the father as well. He

saw his relationship with God as a transaction. I served,

therefore I deserve. He couldn't celebrate his brother's return because

he measured everything by merit, not mercy, and in this

way he too became a prodigal. As Orthodox Christians, especially

as we prepare to enter into great lent, we can

fall into this trap. We maintain the traditions, we fast strictly,

we attend services, yet we become judgmental towards those who

are struggling or those who fall away. We can become

so proud of our practice that we lose sight of

our love for one another. We see a sinner return

to the church, we must rejoice like the Father, rather

than grumble and judge like the older brother. It's true.

Orthodoxy is far more than the practices of the faith.

It's embodying the very heart of the Father, weeping with

those who weep, and rejoicing when the loss are found.

Whether our brothers come at the first hour at the last,

whether they've fallen away and returned, or entered for the

first time into the House of our Lord. May God

grant to each of us the peace, love, and discernment

to celebrate with joy each soul that turns to God.

May He grant us humility in our own struggle and

an abundance of his grace as we prepare ourselves for

the coming Linden season, and may we trust in the

great forgiveness of our fathers. We undertake our own repentance

in the name of the Father and Son the Holy Spirit. Amen,

God to Jesus Christ.

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