For any of you who have ever been a brownie, or a cub, a girl guide or a scout you will know about the badges one may earn. The badge system encourages the development of talents and values – qualities like self-sufficiency, perseverance and ingenuity. To become a Queen Scout, which is the highest rank in scouting in Canada, one must earn numerous merit badges over many years. Reaching this rank indicates that you have been recognized as truly exemplifying the lofty principles of scouting. When we receive recognition, we know that our efforts have not gone unnoticed and we know that we are appreciated.
And herein lies the problem for the eldest son in the story of the prodigal son. He has done all the right things- stayed home and carried out all the work that should have been shared with his brother. He has respected his father’s authority, followed all the home rules, and performed his duties. His life is exemplary. He has earned his Queen Scout rank. Yet here is the wayward brother, being celebrated by his father. It isn’t fair, it isn’t right. It isn’t acceptable.
This story of the prodigal son is a perennial story that calls us to look at the dynamics within each of our families. It challenges us. Our first lessons in crime and punishment occur within our families. Our concept of fair treatment and rewards for good behaviour develop within our families. We learn about trust or breach of trust within our families. Often it is in the home that we will first learn to say “It isn’t fair, it isn’t right. It isn’t acceptable.”
Sibling rivalries are common place. We become jealous and envious when one member seems to get more out of life than another. We expect our parents to treat us fairly. In fact, we expect our parents to create a home where everything is always fair. And our parents have expectations of us as well. As members of this basic unit in society we make choices about those expectations – either we cooperate with them, we follow the rules, we live up to what is expected of us…or we don’t. We rebel, we contest, or we leave home. But even as we rebel, we leave home with this merit badge belief that our behaviour will be judged. So if we do leave, we probably tell ourselves we don’t really want these badges anyway. Of course the sibling that stays home and tries to lead a good life, can smugly say to him or herself that each will be reap what they sew and the faithful one is sure to earn all those merit badges.
Whether we rebel against it or cooperate with it we all carry the expectation that Queen Scouts get rewarded. And when they don’t, when the undeserving get the badge, we are outraged. When bank executives get hefty bonuses even as banks are repossessing homes of hardworking people, when murderers get lenient sentences, when rich corporations avoid taxes, we cry out “It isn’t fair, it isn’t right. It isn’t acceptable.” And well we should, for trust in the fairness of our society would erode to the point of chaos, if we did not all adhere to some basic rules of play.
But this story of the prodigal son is not a story about unknown bank employees, murderers who are strangers, or distant corporations. It is the story about our relationships with those who, arguably, we say we know best, our families. We know their weaknesses, their strengths, their histories, their joys, and their sorrows, but the mistake we often make is holding each other to a fixed set of expectations, regardless of our individual challenges and talents in life. We expect each family member to be strong in the areas we are strong, persistent where we are persistent, clever where we are clever. We think we are all trying to earn the same merit badges that will make us Queen Scouts. And really when we are talking about earning merit badges within our families, we are really talking about earning love.
Yet for any siblings who have sat around the kitchen table doing homework together, we know that some of us learn faster than others. Some of us get math and some don’t. Some are good at art and others can’t draw a circle. Some struggle to learn French. To others it’s a breeze. Some suffer with mental illness or depression, some are weighed down with addictions, some have chronic disease. “It isn’t fair, it isn’t right. It isn’t acceptable.”
That’s how we feel when we get the short end of the stick, when others seem to have life easier, and especially when others don’t seem to get the punishment they deserve. It’s odd how we are surrounded by examples of unfairness, evidence that the playing field is not level to start off with and yet continue to accuse others of weakness, lack of will power or effort. We focus on the crime, the breaking of the rules and insist that punishment and retribution are the only methods to deal with wrongdoers, even repentant wrongdoers. “We are so afraid of letting people off the hook. We are so resentful of unearned love.” (Barbara Brown Taylor). Though punishment may satisfy our need for justice it rarely mends relationship.
The father in today’s story rejoices in the mending of relationship with his long-lost son, an event worth celebrating. But he is in danger of losing the other son to jealousy and self-righteous resentment. These negative feelings cloud the older son’s mind and undermine the relationship that father and son have built up over the years. “All that I have is yours” the father tells the older son. “You have nothing to fear, I am with you always.” We are left to wonder how that older sibling will react. Will he continue to review all the merit badges he has earned and how much more of his father’s attention he deserve or will he recognize that the long-lost son is also a long-lost brother? Will he too embrace the promise of renewed relationship?
For those of us who have stayed home, who have conformed to the expectations put upon us, who have resisted rebellion and accommodated ourselves to our situation, I have one question to ask. Are we holding on to resentment, contempt and a judgemental attitude towards those who have wandered down unhealthy roads? Or do we hold out hope? Do we hold out expectation that they will find their way home? Do we hold them in prayer? Because if we do hold out that hope, if we do hang on to that vision, if we do nurture kind and generous thoughts about them, then when our long-lost brother does come limping back home, we won’t have time for “I told you so’s.” We won’t have time for resentment. We won’t have time to count our own merit badges and start comparing how we each have done. We will be much too busy getting ready for the party, celebrating the one lost sheep that wandered off, the one lost coin that we thought was gone forever, the one lost loved one we have missed for so long. In this season of Lent, let us hold up in prayer all those with whom we have lost connection, those we have loved and lost. Let us pray for all lost souls, those feeling all alone in the world. Let us pray for their wellbeing. Let us leave off our judgements. Let us hold them in hope. Let us pray they find their way home. Amen.