Beyond the hedges

Two sons. Their father is a landowner wealthy with cattle and teaming with servants. The sons labor on their father's property hoping that one day it will be theirs. But they both keep an eye over the hedges surrounding the property wondering whether something better awaits them beyond it. Nonetheless, they are loyal to their father and faithful to his wishes.

Then the day comes when one of them can stand it no longer. Tired of working and tired of waiting, he demands his inheritance in full and storms off to that far away land and the pleasures it promises. The other son, perhaps shocked at his brother's boldness, stays behind to help his father. Maybe he feels stuck as though there are no other options for him now that he is the only one left to help the old man. Or maybe he rubs his hands together knowing that now all the property will be his without having to split it with his prodigal brother.

Then, his brother returns. The older son is scandalized and offended by his father's forgiveness and mercy. We realize that, though the brother never physically left his father's house, in his heart he was long gone. He lived and worked in his father's house, but didn't really know his father. Maybe he thought that all his work and sacrifice would earn him his father's love. He couldn't understand that he had that love already, and that his work and sacrifice should be a generous and joyful response to that love and generosity. Now the son finds himself on the outside when the celebration takes place. Now he becomes the son who left.

The older brother embodies what happens to us when religion becomes a matter of following rules instead of loving our Father. It becomes perfect Mass attendance without perfect conversion. Our body is in the pew, but are heart is looking over the hedge at the world and its empty promises. Sacrifice embitters us rather than freeing us for service. It becomes about what we are doing for God rather than what God is doing for us. And we begin to feel entitled to honors and recognition rather than surprised by grace.

Wonderfully, whether we packed our bags and took off or whether we have become blind to the riches of life in our Father's house, we can always return. That house is always there for us and a room is always prepared for us. We just have to expect that the same mercy which our Father lavishes on us so undeservedly will be lavished on our brother and sister as well. If we are so ready and eager to accept it for ourselves, we must be just as ready to extend it to our neighbor. Otherwise, we may find ourselves on the outside when the celebration takes place.