4th Sunday of Lent

Our readings for the 4th Sunday of Lent are:

1. Joshua 5: 9a, 10-12
2. Psalms 34: 2-3, 4-5, 6-7
3. 2 Corinthians 5: 17-21
4. Luke 15: 1-3, 11-32

• Freedom is often scary
• The Israelites were fed regularly in Egypt, but slaves.  Then they were fed regularly in the desert, but they had no control over the manna, they had to rely totally on God to provide that to them as they needed it.  Now, they are in the Promised Land, and the hand of God is much less evident, though still there.  Now their sustenance comes about through a partnership with God, and they have responsibilities.
• We say that "God provides".  Just what does that mean in your life?
• It is also said "God helps those who help themselves."  Is that also true?
• Are there those in our world who cannot help themselves.  Does God still help them?
• Do we have any responsibility for those who cannot help themselves?

• We have nothing to fear but fear itself
• President Roosevelt, through the magic of that new fangled invention the radio, was able to enter the living rooms of millions of Americans night after night, with one simple message: "I'm here for you, we're going to get through this together."
• When God delivers us from all of our fears, does that mean that He will deliver us from all things that we fear, or help us not to fear them any longer?
• How has fear shaped your life?
• Are you a better person for the effect/impact of fear?

• Reconciled to what?
• Remembering Church is a Catholic application of the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults to those estranged Catholics who feel a leading of the Spirit back to the Catholic Church.  This ministry is about healing.  It is multi-faceted.  It's really hard.  And it has to go in both directions.
• What are some healings that have gone on in your life, perhaps between you and a family member, you and a friend, you and an entire community, or between you and yourself?
• Where was God in those healings?
• Where would you have wanted God to be in those healings?
• When/where have you perhaps been an agent of healing?

• Attachment to success
• Losers often become "invisible".  No one really feels comfortable around them.  Deep down, I suspect that we're afraid that some of that will rub off on us.
• The younger son in Jesus' parable blew it, big time.  What do you think was his biggest problem?
• He was impatient for his share of the inheritance.
• He didn't appreciate everything that he had at home.
• Once he left home with the loot, he didn't hire a money manager to help him budget.
• Once he was down on his luck, he should have gotten a better job than feeding pigs, after all, he came from a good family.
• In many ways, the father's grief just entered a new chapter with the son's return.  Now he had to explain to the rest of the tribe why he took that rebellious young upstart back into his home.
• Have you ever been through a reconciliation that was painful?
• Was it worth it?

• Preparation for Reconciliation:

1. Am I willing to trust God in the face of change in my life?
2. Can I trust God with my fears?
3. What am I doing to reconcile those in need?
4. Am I willing to trust God to provide everything that I need?

The Road Home

My sandals are broken.
My last robe hangs in tatters from my shriveled shoulders.
They chased me out of the last town that I walked through because they didn't know me.
At the edge of that town I tripped and fell, and now I have a limp that won't go away.
And yet, I'm more frightened of what I'll find here at home.

The pity, the scorn, even a richly deserved stoning.
The village will hate me because I deserve it.
My steady, reliable older brother will surely lord it over me.
Maybe I would be better off dead.
At least then I would not be an embarrassment to myself and others.

Family.
I want one.
What woman will ever want me, or have me after this?
Better to go somewhere where I am a stranger and start over.
But I cannot.  I don't have the energy anymore.

I cannot end it all for lack of courage.
I cannot go anywhere else for lack of energy.
I can barely go home for fear of what I'll find there.
I'm out of options.
Surrounded by blind alleys and broken dreams.

Finally, I round a bend and the fields speak to me.
Their familiar outlines, the same crops that I remember, the scattered sheds and pathways.
It all is so familiar.  Even the birds sound homey and content.
So much peace in this land, I wish that I could still call it ...
home.

I see an old stooped man at the edge of the village, peering out.
His hand shielding his eyes against the morning sun.
His posture speaking of age, care, longing.
Our eyes meet across an impossible distance, and incredibly he begins to run.
No smooth athlete's his gait, a painful shuffling progress.

My only thought is to spare him any more pain.
I shed my useless sandals and run.
Sprinting down familiar dusty corridors.
Finding freedom in my own pain.
And we embrace.

My prepared speech is as useless as my sandals.
Suddenly I find a robe impossibly draped across my shoulders,
New sandals on my feet,
The family ring back on my finger.
I am home, but both of us are transformed.

I will never be the same care free lad that I was.
I have squandered the best years of my life learning that I always knew who I was.
The village will have to accept me on their own terms, in their own time.
All that I know for sure is that my father has the courage to embrace me once again.
And I will honor that with my life.

Maybe my older brother will help me to find humility.
I can never make up to him what I have stolen from him, from the family, the village.
All that I can do is ask for forgiveness.
And hope that I am courageous enough to accept it if it ever comes.
In the meantime there is work to do.  The land calls me, I can hear it now.

Shalom!