4th Sunday of Lent (The Merciful Father)

There are seven particular vices that oppose human virtue, which “are called "capital" because they engender other sins, other vices. They are pride, avarice, envy, wrath, lust, gluttony, and sloth or acedia” (CCC, 1866).

          This classification originated, as far as we can tell, with the desert fathers, specifically Evagrius Ponticus and John Cassian. Pope Gregory the Great revised this list to form the more common list. Thomas Aquinas used this list in his Summa Theologica although he calls them the "capital sins" because they are the head and form of all the others. We hear it spoken of in influential writings: Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales (the Parson’s Tale) and Milton’s Paradise Lost, but perhaps most notably in Dante’s Divine Comedy.

The Seven Deadly sins are perhaps more properly understood as attitudes in the heart that are not yet sin in action. Personal sins flow from them and each can be understood as a form of idolatry: e.g. pride is idolatry of self; gluttony is of food or drink; sloth is of comfort; and so on.

At Last Night’s Mass we were blessed to have Abbott Marion from St. Martin’s Abbey in Lacey as our principal celebrant. In his homily, he pointed out that in the parable we hear today which we commonly call the Parable of the Prodigal Son, we see these sins at work in either of the two sons.

For the younger son, who chose to cast aside his father’s love and his place of belonging, we see him being driven by avarice, lust, and gluttony. And in the older son, upon learning that his wayward brother had returned, we see the other four of these deadly sins: his pride, envy, wrath, sloth (or as it’s sometimes called, acedia).

          And of course, while we may tend to focus primarily on one son or the other, I’ve heard it said that what Jesus’ primarily wanted to emphasize in this parable is the father: his love and his mercy. As is true for people of our time, people of Jesus’ time must have had a hard time sufficiently grasping and believing that the God of the Jewish people was a loving and merciful Father. Thus, he told this story.

          The concept of mercy can be properly understood to mean that we get something better than human logic tells us we would otherwise deserve. If I do something wrong, I'm nonetheless given something good. What a gift! The problem though is that too many of us either don’t want it or we can’t receive it. What do I mean?

          First, there are those who don’t care about God’s mercy. He’s not even on their radar. They’ve either rejected His existence or if they do believe, He doesn’t’ register in their day-to-day consciousness and thus, out of sight, out of mind.

          Second, there are those who presume God’s mercy. They’re convinced that God will forgive anything and everything, so we might as well partake, and partake again, and again. God is always forgiving, so no need to actually amend my life.

In some way, both of these attitudes speak to the younger son in today’s story—at least up to a point. I can imagine that initially, he was so wrapped up in the indulgent pursuits he had believed would bring happiness, that there was no memory of his father and his home. I can also imagine that eventually as the truth deep within his heart began to reveal itself, he would attempt to push those thoughts away, running from the pain in his heart, trying to ignore the emptiness and the wounding effects of his choices.

So again, while there are some of us, who like the younger son, may have no interest in God's mercy or even presume His mercy, there are others of us, who like the older son, have a hard time receiving God’s mercy. Among the older son’s problems, including his sense of entitlement, is that he believed he could (and had to) earn his father's love.

          Close to this way of thinking tends to be the idea that when we don’t do the right thing, God no longer loves us. Such thinking stifles our ability to receive God’s mercy, the Father’s love. And along with this is the struggle of moral scrupulosity. Those who are scrupulous are overly preoccupied with the slightest of sins—so much, that they also stifle the ability to receive mercy and love. Like the older son, we become angst-filled when we learn that we can never earn it. It is entirely a gratuitous gift that comes with no conditions, and it is never exhausted.

By the way, we see Rembrandt’s visual interpretation of what this looks like in the image across from me (painted in 1637). We do well to ask: In what way have these seven attitudes become a driving force in your life that it stifles your ability to be rooted where you belong, to know your Father’s love and mercy?

          In any way that you have difficulty grasping it, I encourage you to gaze for an extended period of time and meditate upon the image of Jesus crucified. While it is objectively a grotesque image, it wordlessly shows us in a powerful way, love and mercy. Secondly, please avail yourself the opportunity to unburden your heart in the confessional. The Father's love and mercy awaits you, perhaps longing for you to come home and to at last, have everything that He has always wanted to give to you.