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The best investment I have made in recent history is the time spent reading THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL SON by Henri J. M. Nouwen. From my encounter with the first page, I found it impossible to put the book down. Nouwen scripted this work following a chance encounter with a print of Rembrandt Van Rijn’s painting, Prodigal Son. While he waited for an appointment, Nouwen noticed the poster hanging precariously on a door in an office. Though he had seen several depictions of the parable prior to this, this particular interpretation drew him into itself. Nouwen’s contemplation of the scene may have been interrupted for the duration of his meeting, but it continued afterward for several years. Nouwen found himself so haunted by Rembrandt’s figures that he determined he must see the original work in order to fully appreciate the author’s perspective and artistry. While arranging for an encounter with the original piece, Nouwen delved into the life story of Rembrandt himself. He wondered what had transformed the youthful and self-assured Rembrandt into a soul so seasoned and wounded by life that he could depict the intent of the parable’s Author. Nouwen spent hour after hour and day after day seated before the original painting, drinking in each figure before him. He moved his chair from one position to another in order to appreciate every angle of the painting. When he determined that he had tested the charity of those who arranged his visits to the gallery to its limit, he gathered his notes and returned home to write. What follows is the result of my encounter with Nouwen’s work…

The son who asks his father for his inheritance exhibits far more than mere selfishness. He insults his father to the greatest extent. This assault takes on a particularly heinous nature when one considers the family values of the Jewish People. In essence, the boy says, “I cannot wait for you to die, Father, to get what is mine. I wish to behave as though you are dead already!” A few days after his father turns over his portion of his treasure, the young man underscores his contempt by leaving home for a distant land. There he engages in every sort of debauchery, wasting away the fortune that once promised his secure future. He ends his leave tending the pigs of one who does not so much as offer him a decent meal for his trouble. The young man, having lost almost everything of value, begins the journey home to his father to whom he will offer himself as a servant. Though this man child has cut his hair and wears only remnants of his tattered shoes, a small knife hangs at his side. For unknown reasons, this symbol of his sonship, of belonging to this father, is cast aside for neither pleasure nor life-giving nourishment. Rembrandt depicts the young man kneeling before his father. He leans against the old man’s body, the object of a loving embrace. Several onlookers witness the moment. Servants and musicians hidden in the shadows seem uncertain of what will become of this reunion. In the glow of the light that encircles father and son stands the elder brother, the faithful son. Today’s gospel (Luke 1:39-45) tells us he is reluctant to welcome his brother. He is angry that his father overlooks the sinfulness of this brother who hurt his father so. Both the artist and the Author of the parable leave the brother’s response to us.

Most of us place ourselves in the shoes of one or the other son. If we are in great need of forgiveness, we find consolation in the father’s embrace who forgives everything. If we feel we have behaved well and have little for which to be forgiven, we sympathize with the elder brother. Like the elder brother, our response is left to us. Do we question why suffering befalls the just and ring our hands as we watch the apparent rewarding of sinners? Or, do we enter into our Father’s joy and celebrate the new life of one who was dead?

Nouwen’s journey into painting and parable requires him to walk in neither the prodigal’s shoes nor those of the faithful son. His journey calls himself and any who would truly live the intent of the parable to step into the shoes of the father, our Father. The Father forgives each one of us, whether we abandon him or feebly attempt to live a just life. God’s forgiveness is absolute, a gift given to free us to grow into who we are meant to be. God asks that we give up our childish pettiness to become the Father to one another-welcoming forgivers who embrace all who are in need of God’s embrace. When we refuse to distinguish between the worthiness of the sinful and the just, we begin to see with the eyes of God. With each embrace of another, we acknowledge the potential in that other to see as God sees as well. It might be our embrace that detects the last remnant of sonship, that bit of courage and connectedness that brings our brother or sister home. Mary Penich, 2001