My Dad's birthday was just last week. Naturally, I've been thinking a lot about him lately. How we'd go golfing, just sit together, fix stuff. There was a comfort in the silence we shared. We are very much alike: quiet, computer geeks, and a bit hot-headed at times. He's gone 6 years now and it seems like yesterday. I can't say that there isn't a day that goes by when I don't think about him, because, frankly, life has filled my mind with all sorts of things. Between work, family, and other activities, some days I'm not really sure which end is up. But there are days when my mind is pulled back to my dad by some little memory. The other day it was a cookie. Today, it was the story of two brothers and a father.
Most people know the story of the Prodigal Son. Some would even rename it as the Forgiving Father. It all depends on your perspective. My perspective today, after coming back from listening to our parish mission presentation on this familiar story, focuses on the older brother. As the story unfolds and the prodigal son returns home, there's a great celebration. But the brother is upset and questions how everyone could celebrate someone who would squander so much for his own pleasure and then come crawling home. "Why celebrate him? Why not celebrate me? I've been here the whole time? You never celebrate me?" He almost sounds like a jealous brother. It seems as though he is so focused on himself, that he really doesn't understand who his father truly is.
Who is this father of these two sons? A man of stature, yes, but willing to do anything necessary to run to meet his lost son whom he longed to see again. A man who forgives without question and is overcome with joy. A man who knew that material wealth was nothing when compared to the love of family. A man who loves with all his heart and shares all he has with those whom he loves without question. This is the father that the jealous brother accuses of not paying attention to him. The brother spends every day with this man, eats with him, shares his house, works his land, and yet he never sees, never fully understands, the kind of man his father is. He fails to see that, in his father, he has everything he would ever need.
How often do we spend time with our fathers and not fully understand the kind of men they are? Now I realize that for some this can be a good thought and for others, not so good. That's the reality of life. But Jesus has come to shatter that reality and to show us the true nature of His heavenly Father. The type of father I described above. A father that loves without question and desires to be with us always. I spent countless hours with my dad and still there are things that I wish I would have done with him. I miss my dad every time he comes to mind. But I take comfort knowing that he is sitting quietly with his heavenly father watching over all of us. Until we meet again, Dad!
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