Like last week's account of Moses and the burning bush, this Sunday's Gospel is another familiar Bible story. Variously titled the story of the prodigal son or the forgiving father, it has been the subject of countless stained glass windows, artistic masterpieces that hang in museums, and children's crayon renditions. While we commonly know this account as the parable of the prodigal son, because of the younger son's spendthrift ways, I once heard a preacher turn the meaning on its ear. He talked about how we should really call this the story of the prodigal father, since he is the one who lavishes everything on his two sons. The younger one gets his half of the inheritance early, then, when he returns, he gets robes, rings, the fatted calf, and a feast. Subsequently, the father promises to the older son that everything he has is his. Dad is indeed lavish, that is, prodigal, with all he has.

We interpret the father in the parable as a stand in for God. He is that loving father who welcomes us back when we sin. But how often have we reflected on the extravagance of God's love? Though our God is a just God, this parable reminds us that God also puts justice aside so that we can know his eternal mercy. Certainly those who are the greatest sinners, and who have returned to the Lord, are the most aware of God's unending love. But just like the father in the parable, God wants us all.

Maybe a little Lenten project for us regular churchgoers would be to search the depths of our hearts and discover in what ways everything that the Father has is ours. The elder son wasn't aware of his blessings, even though they were always his. In what ways has God blessed us?

The woman left her water jar and went into the town and said to the people, "Come see a

man who told me everything I have done. Could he possibly be the Christ?" Jn 4:28-29