Fourth Sunday in Lent – Year C
March 30, 2025
Gospel Lectionary Text
Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32
15:1 Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him.
15:2 And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, "This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them."
15:3 So he told them this parable:
15:11b "There was a man who had two sons.
15:12 The younger of them said to his father, 'Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.' So he divided his property between them.
15:13 A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living.
15:14 When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need.
15:15 So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs.
15:16 He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything.
15:17 But when he came to himself he said, 'How many of my father's hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger!
15:18 I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you;
15:19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands."'
15:20 So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him.
15:21 Then the son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.'
15:22 But the father said to his slaves, 'Quickly, bring out a robe--the best one--and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.
15:23 And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate;
15:24 for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!' And they began to celebrate.
15:25 "Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing.
15:26 He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on.
15:27 He replied, 'Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.'
15:28 Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him.
15:29 But he answered his father, 'Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends.
15:30 But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!'
15:31 Then the father said to him, 'Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.
15:32 But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.'"
Context
Welcome to the Fourth Sunday of Lent. Today, we encounter one of the most beloved stories in Scripture — the Parable of the Prodigal (wasteful & reckless) Son. It’s actually a misleading title. Not because the young son isn’t prodigiously prodigal. He is! But because his “prodigalness” pales in comparison to his Father’s, whose love is truly wasteful and reckless.
When the younger son demands his inheritance, the Father gives away half of everything — no questions asked, no conditions. When the son returns, hat in hand, the Father sprints out to meet him, showers him with affection, and hosts a feast in his honor.
Then there’s the older son, sulking outside. If the younger son is wasteful, the older son is something of a hoarder — clinging tightly to everything his brother doesn’t squander. The Father leaves his own celebration to plead with the older son to come inside, reminding him, “You are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.”
Can we see? The Father is the truly prodigal one — risking everything for the sake of relationship. This isn’t some tidy, merit-based exchange; it’s extravagantly wasteful grace. Everything the Father has is already ours. It can’t be earned or revoked. That’s the real scandal of the story: God’s reckless love is for the younger son and the older son. It’s for everyone — both the squanderer and hoarder.
Question
If God said to you, "you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours,” what would you stop needing to do? What would you be freed up to pursue instead?
Reflections
Praying Eucharistically - Weekly Homily by James Alison:
Understanding the Bible anew through the Mimetic Theory of René Girard.
Poetry
Father and Son
by William Stafford
No sound—a spell—on, on out
where the wind went, our kite sent back
its thrill along the string that
sagged but sang and said, “I’m here!
I’m here!”—till broke somewhere,
gone years ago, but sailed forever clear
of earth. I hold—whatever tugs
the other end—I hold that string.
How the Dung Beetle Finds Its Way Home
by Eugenia Leigh
The Milky Way’s glinting ribbon helps the dung beetle
roll his good ball of shit back to the ones he loves.
But blind him to the sky with as little as a hat,
and he will swerve like a drunk who, if he makes it home alive,
might find the family, soured with waiting,
gone. Drawers cleared, beds cold, even the watercolor ark
of giraffes and raptors pulled from the face of the fridge.
See? I want to tell my missing father, it’s a metaphor so simple
it’s almost not worth writing down: even beetles need the stars
to nudge them back to where they need to be
when they need to be there—toward their little ones’
gummy grins ever pardoning the grisliest parent.
I am thirty-four with a son the day my mother tells me
she enrolled in a four-day seminar about how to be a good mom.
A little late, I know.
Once, in a rage, I left my husband and our sleeping child.
Where did you go, friends ask when I tell the story.
I wish I’d had a grander plan. I wish I’d stood on the roof
of our building and, empowered by that single Brooklyn star,
I’d ripped up the book of my parents’ sins.
Or I wish I could tell someone the truth: that I fear
I am the kind of woman who could leave the one good family
God had the gall to give her. Really,
I sat on the stairwell leading up to the roof and wept
until a large bug threatened my life, at which point I recalled
the dung beetles, stopped blaming my parents, and—
thanking the metaphorical stars—I rolled up my pile of shit
and trudged back home.
Happiness
by Jane Kenyon
Prayer
During Lent, the call to prayer features the Street Psalms Prayer of Discernment and includes a story from our global community that helps ground us in the everyday reality of those we serve.
Loving One, meet us face to face, and let us discover ourselves again in you. Free us from the voices of accusation and expectation. Free us from the attachments that enslave us. Recreate us in your desire, and reacquaint us with our own desires—especially the ones that have been forgotten or denied.
Listen to the complete prayer below:
