“I will arise and go to my father, and will say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, and I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants.’” And he arose and came to his father. But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him.

Glory to Jesus Christ! Glory forever!

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

“‘I will arise and go to my father, and will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, and I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants.”’ And he arose and came to his father. But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him” (Luke 15:18-20).

“God does not love us because we are good. He loves us because he is our Father” (St. John Chrysostom).

I will never forget, brethren, a learning moment from my undergraduate days. I was in an Introduction to Theology class. We were looking at the Parable of the Prodigal Son. And my professor said to us, “You know, this parable is not chiefly about the prodigal son.” “That’s strange,” I thought, “why would they call it the Parable of the Prodigal Son, then?” My professor went on, “The parable is as much if not more about the compassionate father as it is about the prodigal son.” It is as much if not more about the compassionate father as it is about the prodigal son.

“How deep the Father’s love for us, how vast beyond all measure,” goes a popular Evangelical hymn. I am sure many of us (converts) are familiar with it. The Scriptures resound with the same sentiment:

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Thy faithfulness” (Lam 3:22-23).

“But Thou, O Lord, art a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Ps 86:15).

These allusions to our Creator’s character, brethren, coupled with the teaching of the Parable of the Prodigal Son—all filtered through the interpretive lens which is the incarnation of the Son of God, our Lord Jesus Christ, who is himself “… the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being…” (Heb 1:3), [all these things] communicate to us a singular truth: the love of God for us is the love of a Father for his children. The revelation of the person of Jesus Christ and the testimony of the Scriptures is this: the love of God for us is the love of a Father for his children.

The Scriptures give us many analogies for, many caricatures of, God: Creator, Judge, King, Savior, Master. These are all true analogies. They are insightful. But our Lord gives us the truest analogy, if you will, when he instructs his disciples to pray thus: “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed by Thy name…” (Matt 6:9b, italics mine). We can study the Scriptures deeply, and we can see the fatherly attributes of God revealed in these other caricatures. God is a Judge, and he disciplines his children in love (cf. Heb 12:6). God is our Master, but he is a good Master (a good ‘Head of the House’), and we are his willing servants (cf. Rom 6:22). But, brethren, we must never forget—above Master, above King, above Judge—God is Father. He is Father by virtue of his being. He is eternally Father. The Father to whom Christ addresses his prayer in the presence of his disciples is the hupostasis from whom he was “begotten… before all ages; begotten not made, of one essence… .” God is personally Father. Before Creator, even, he is Father. Do you understand how profound this reality is? How profound it is that some of us—Christian men, created men—should bear the relational name of One of the Holy Trinity? “‘Ä€v, PatÄ“ras, Padre, Père, Otets, Father.” When a child utters, “Father, Daddy,” she speaks of a relationship that precedes the creation of the cosmos itself! How imperative it is for those of us who bear such a name to reflect our namesake in truth!

For some, today’s parable will come as a great consolation. How comforting, how reassuring it is to have a father like the father in today’s parable. For others, the parable will embitter. Human fathers are failed fathers—some more than others, yes—but none of us escape this reality. What does it mean to be a father? Ask our children. They will tell you truly. “My dad makes me laugh.” “My dad takes care of me.” “My dad reads me stories.” “My dad makes packs my lunch.” “My dad wipes my butt after I go potty.” “My dad loves me.” … “My dad yells at me.” “My dad doesn’t pay attention to me.” “My dad cheated on my mom.” “My dad’s a drunk.” “My dad abandoned me.” “My dad hates me.” Two perspectives—a spectrum of experiences with ‘dad’.

Some of us can hear today’s parable, and despite our parents’ flaws, we can say, “I know that father. That father is my father. Thank God for my father.” So sadly, tearfully, some of us will hear today’s parable and say, “I do not know that man.” Brethren, we cannot understand the gospel of Jesus Christ, if we do not understand this—God is Father; he is the perfect Father. He is the Father that loves and forgives his children again and again and again and again and again. His forgiveness does not run out. His love cannot run dry.

“For Thou, O Lord, art good, and ready to forgive, and abundant in mercy to all who call upon Thee” (Ps 86:5).

“Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the Lord, and he will have mercy on him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon” (Isa 55:7).

“For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom 8:37-39).

We will read this parable, and observe rightly—the prodigal repented. We cannot discount that fact. It is for this reason that the parable is included in the Triodion. It is preparing us for Great Lent, for a time of deep repentance. We are called to repentance by the Father, who actively awaits our return. And yet, we may ask ourselves: does the father cease to love his prodigal, even when he has not returned? Is the father’s love dependent on the prodigal’s repentance? Of course not. Of course not. When the rebellious son came to his father and said, “Father, give me the portion of goods that falls on me!” (Luke 15:12b) did the father cease to love him? Maybe the father heard that his son had wasted his inheritance in gambling, with harlots, on wine and sumptuous foods—my own interpretation of St Luke’s ‘riotous living’ (v. 13)—and then… did the father cease to love him? Maybe he heard that he had become the servant of a swineherd, that he was sleeping in the pigpen and eating out the livestock trough (am unclean, “disgrace” of a son)… did the father cease to love him?

“‘I will arise and go to my father, and will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, and I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like one of your hired servants.”’ And he arose and came to his father. But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him” (Luke 15:18-20, italics mine).

“There’s my son! There’s my baby boy! Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, the apple of my eye!”

If you are not a father (or mother, or godfather, or godmother, or grandparent), this interpretation of the parable—this framing of God’s unrelenting, unconditional, ecstatic love—might seem inexplicable. To a parent, a good parent: there is no more sensible interpretation. Our children disappoint us. Our children sin. Our children call us names. They say things like, “I can’t stand you! You make me crazy! You’re ruining my life! I hate you!” And sometimes, it might feel like they really mean it. … But can our children do anything to make us stop loving them? My children could shun me; call me old, stupid; they could hit me, beat me; slander me. And I would die for them. One moment, my child could say, “I hate you. You are dead to me.” And in the very next moment, I would lay down my life for them, … which is what our God does for us in the person of Jesus Christ.

“But God demonstrates his own loves towards us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8).

The icon of the Parable of the Prodigal Son perfectly captures this theology of divine love. If you do not know what I am talking about, then go; look at it on the analogion. Who is the father in the parable? It is none other than Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior. He is the good shepherd who goes to search for the one that is lost (cf. Luke 15:1-7). He is the diligent old woman, who sweeps her house, looking for the missing mite (Luke 15:8-10). He is the Crucified One who prays for his persecutors, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” (Luke 23:34). He is the loving, compassionate father of wayward children.

Brethren, let us approach this season of Great and Holy Lent, bearing these things in mind. If we have had poor fathers, let us forgive them. If we have had good fathers, let us praise them. Let us repent and return from this foreign land of sin. Let us run to our father, and he will run to greet us. Let us weep on his breast, and he will fall on our necks (v. 20). Let us approach our heavenly Father, and say with St. Anthony the Great, “I no longer fear God, but I love him, for perfect love casts out fear.”

Through the prayers of our holy fathers, O Lord, Jesus Christ, our God, have mercy on us and save us. Amen.

Glory to Jesus Christ! Glory forever!