«Listen. It is a beautiful parable that will guide you with its light in many cases.
A man had two sons. The elder was a serious, affectionate, obedient worker. The younger was more intelligent than his brother who was actually somewhat dull and preferred to be guided rather than tire himself making decisions by himself, but he was also rebellious, absent-minded, fond of luxury, pleasure loving, a squanderer and idle. Intelligence is a great gift of God. But it is a gift to be used wisely. Otherwise it is like certain medicines that, when taken in the wrong way, kill instead of curing. His father, as it was his right and duty, used to recall him to a more sensible life. But it was all in vain, the only result was that he answered back and became more obstinate in his wicked ideas.
Finally one day, after a fierce quarrel, the younger son said: âGive me my part of the estate. So I will no longer hear your reproaches and my brotherâs complaints. Let each have his own and no more about itâ. âBe carefulâ replied the father, âbecause you will soon be ruined. What will you do then? Consider that I will not be unfair to favour you and I will not take a farthing off your brother to give it to youâ. âI will not ask you for anything. You may be sure. Give me my partâ.
The father had the estate and valuables assessed, and since money and jewels were worth as much as the real estate, he gave the elder brother the fields and vineyards, the herds and olive-trees, and the younger one the money and jewels, which the young man changed immediately into money. And after doing that in a few days, he went to a distant country where he lived like a lord, squandering all his money on a life of debauchery, making people believe that he was the son of a king, because he was ashamed to admit that he was a countryman and thus he disowned his father. Banquets, friends, women, robes, wines, games⊠he led a loose life. He soon saw that his money was coming to an end and that poverty was in sight. And to make matters worse, the country experienced a severe famine, which compelled him to spend his last penny.
205.4
He would have liked to go back to his father. But he was proud and decided not to. So he went to a wealthy man of the country, a friend of his in his happy days, and he begged him saying: âTake me among your servants, remembering the days when you enjoyed my wealthâ. See how foolish man is! He prefers the lash of a master rather than say to his father: âForgive me. I made a mistake!â. The young man had learned many useless things with his bright intelligence, but he did not want to learn the saying of Ecclesiasticus: âHow ill-famed is he who deserts his father and how accursed of the Lord is whoever angers his motherâ. He was intelligent, but not wise.
The man that he turned to, in exchange for the grand time he had enjoyed with the foolish young man, sent him to look after his pigs, because it was a pagan country and there were many pigs. So he was sent to pasture the herds of pigs in the farm. Filthy, in rags, stinking and starving â food in fact was scarce for all the servants and particularly for the lowest ones and he, a foreign ridiculed herdsman of pigs was considered such â he saw the pigs glut themselves with acorns and sighed: âI wish I could fill my stomach with this fruit! But they are too bitter! Not even starvation can make them palatableâ. And he wept remembering the sumptuous banquets when he acted the âgrand seigneurâ only a short while before, laughing, singing, dancing⊠and then he would think of the honest substantial meals at his far away home, of the portions his father used to make impartially for everybody, keeping for himself the smallest one, happy to see the healthy appetite of his and he remembered the helpings his just father gave the servants and he sighed: âMy fatherâs servants, even the lowest, have plenty of bread⊠and I am dying here of starvationâŠâ. A long meditation, a long struggle to subdue his prideâŠ
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At last the day came when his humility and wisdom revived and he got up and said: âI will go back to my father! This pride of mine is silly, as it deprives me of my freedom. And why? Why should I suffer in my body and even more in my heart when I can be forgiven and receive comfort? I will go back to my father. That is settled. And what shall I say to him? What has matured in my heart here, in this abjection, in this filth, suffering the pangs of hunger! I will say to him: âFather, I have sinned against Heaven and against you, I am no longer worthy of being called your son; treat me therefore as the least of your servants, but bear me to stay under your roof. That I may see you moving about⊠I cannot say to him: â⊠because I love youâ. He would not believe me. But my behaviour will tell him and he will understand and before dying he will bless me once again⊠Oh! I hope so. Because my father loves meâ. And when he went back to town in the evening he gave up his job and begging along the way he went back home. And he saw his fatherâs fields⊠and the house⊠and his father supervising the work⊠he was old, emaciated by grief but always kind and good⊠The guilty son seeing that ruin caused by him stopped frightened⊠but the father, looking around, saw him and ran to meet him, because he was still far away. And when he reached him, he threw his arms around his neck and kissed him. Only the father had recognised his son in the dejected beggar and he was the only one to be moved with love.
The son, clasped in his fatherâs arms, with his head resting on his fatherâs shoulder, whispered sobbing: âFather, let me throw myself at your feetâ. âNo, son! Not at my feet. Rest on my heart, which has suffered so much because of your absence, and now needs to revive feeling your warmth on my chestâ. And the son, crying louder, said: âOh! father! I have sinned against Heaven and against you, I am no longer worthy to be called son by you. But allow me to live among your servants, under your roof, seeing you, eating your bread, serving you, and you will be the breath of my life. Every time I take a morsel of bread, every time you breathe, my heart, which is so corrupt, will change and I will become honestâŠâ
But the father, embracing him all the time, led him towards the servants, who had gathered together watching in the distance and he said to them: âQuick, bring the best robe, and basins of scented water here, and wash him, spray him with scents, clothe him, put new sandals on his feet and a ring on his finger. Bring a fattened calf and kill it. And prepare a banquet. Because this son of mine was dead and has come back to life, he was lost and has been found. Now I want him to find the innocent love of a child once again, and my love and the celebration of the household for his return, must give it to him. He must realise that he is always my dear last-born child, as he was in his childhood a long time ago, when he used to toddle beside me making me happy with his smile and his prattlingâ. And the servants did so.
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The elder son was out in the country and he did not know anything until his return. Coming towards the house in the evening, he saw that it was brightly lighted and he heard the sound of instruments and dancing coming from it. He called a servant who was bustling about and asked him: âWhat is happening?â. And the servant replied: âYour brother has come back! Your father had the fattened calf killed because his son has come back to him safe and cured of his wickedness and he ordered a celebration. They are only waiting for you to startâ. But the first-born was angry because he thought that such a feast for his younger brother was unfair, as he was not only younger, but had also been wicked. And he did not want to go in, on the contrary he was about to walk away from the house.
But the father, informed of the situation, ran out and reached him and endeavoured to convince him, begging him not to spoil his joy. The elder brother replied to his father: âAnd you expect me not to be upset? You are unfair to your first-born and you hold him in contempt. I have served you since I was able to work, and I have done that for many years. I have never disobeyed an order of yours, not even a simple desire. I have always been near you, and I have loved you for two, to make you recover from the wound inflicted on you by my brother. And you have not even given me a lamb to have a feast with my friends. You are now honouring my brother and you have killed the best calf for him, who offended and abandoned you, and has been a lazy spendthrift and has now come back because he was driven by starvation. It is really worth while being a hard honest worker! You should not have done that to meâ.
The father then, clasping him to his heart, said: âSon! Can you believe that I do not love you, because I do not celebrate your behaviour? Your deeds are holy by themselves, and the world praises you because of them. Your brother, instead, needs to be rehabilitated both in the eyes of the world and in his own. And do you think that I do not love you because I give you no visible prize? But day and night, in every moment of my life, you are present to my heart, and I bless you every moment. You have the continuous reward of being always with me, and what is mine is yours. But it was fair to have a feast, a celebration for your brother who was dead and has come back to good life, who was lost and has come back to our loveâ. And the first-born yielded to his fatherâs desire.
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And that, My friends, is what happens in the House of the Father. And whoever feels that he is like the younger son of the parable must believe that if he imitates him in going to the Father, the Father will say to him: âNot at My feet. But rest on My heart, which has suffered because of your absence and is now happy because you have come backâ. He who is in the situation of the first-born and without any fault against the Father, must not be jealous of the Fatherâs joy, but must take part in it and love the redeemed brother.»