THE PRODIGAL FATHER

                                                             THE PRODIGAL FATHER

Mark Verlott pulled up the frayed collar of a frayed coat.  They represented a frayed life.  Though the Christmas lights were bright and cheery, the weather was cold, damp and windy.  Mark stood on street corner scanning the crowds as many strolled downtown, oohing and aahing at the decorated windows of shops as children pressed their faces against windows as if they could pass through them.   The slippery slope he had slid down had been steep and deep.  Only two years before, he had been with his family on this very street corner.  Like all the others, they had entered the wonderland that downtown became at this time of year and were headed home to hot chocolate and wrapping presents for friends and relatives.  Life was good; it was perfect, in fact.

Then, something happened.  Mark began scolding his children more and became irritable with his wife. He also became impulsive.  One time, when he had been especially mean to his wife, Janet, he went out and bought her an expensive necklace as a way to apologize.

“Mark, this is beautiful, but I know it cost you far too much.  We’re doing okay, but we’ve always been set against extravagant spending.  Thank you so much for thinking of me, but a little bouquet of flowers would have been nice, and it would be something we could all enjoy.”

“I go out and buy you something I think you’ll like and this is how you treat me?  You reject my gift?”

“I’m not rejecting it, Mark.  I love it.  We just can’t afford it.  Maybe we can, but we need other things more.  Try to understand.”

“All that I understand is that I know longer make you happy.  I can’t do anything right!”

“Mark, what’s going on?  You are changing in a way that scares me.”

“I just want to do something extravagant and I get hauled over the coals for it!”

“No one’s hauling you over the coals.  If it means that much to you, I’ll keep it and enjoy it.”

“No you won’t you’ll stick it away and never wear it.  It was a stupid idea.  Where do we ever go that you would wear this?  No place.   Kids, dammit, be quiet!  I’m speaking to your mother!”

“Don’t you dare talk to our children like that.  They’re just being children.”

“They’re being spoiled brats! Shut up!”

The two children, a boy and a girl, ran to their bedrooms crying.   Janet Verlott could only stare at her husband in disbelief.

“Mark, I think we need to get some counseling.  Things just aren’t right.”

“You mean, I’m not right, don’t you?”

“That’s not what I said.”

Then Mark did something he never even thought of doing.  He hit is wife.  The hit was more stunning than painful.  Janet walked to their bedroom and packed some of Mark’s clothes and toiletries in a bag and returned to the living room.

“Mark.  You are scaring me.  You’re scaring the children.  You need some help.  I want you to leave now and not return until you have gotten some help.  You are not yourself.”

Mark grabbed the suitcase form his wife and stormed from the house. 

In the two years that passed, Mark’s downward spiral accelerated.  He quit his job.  Actually, he didn’t quit.  He just didn’t show up for work.  He took odd jobs, but his temper usually cost him those after a few days, sometimes after a few hours.  Janet was beside herself.  Mark’s parents had passed and he had no relatives to contact.  He broke off ties with his few friends.  His entire life had been his family.

Without his income, Janet couldn’t live on an adjunct professor’s salary.  She was able to get their house put in her name and sold it to help pay builds and sustain her and the children.  They moved into a modest two-bedroom apartment.  She was able to build up a sizable tutoring clientele to help pay the bills. 

Mark drifted.  Sometimes he slept in one of the two homeless shelters in the town, but more often he found himself in an alley.  However, he never turned to alcohol or drugs, though he was tempted to.

That winter evening, he found himself standing on that street corner.  He felt numb inside and out. He began walking toward a shelter but found that he had missed the curfew.  He continued walking, and as he passed a small chapel, he looked in.  It looked so warm and inviting.  Yet, he knew that someone who looked like him would probably be turned away. It would be done with kindness and with charity – perhaps a few dollars pressed in his hand—but turned away.  But he went inside anyway.

An old gentleman greeted him as he entered.  Mark braced for the inevitable rejection.  However, the old gentleman surprised him.

“It’s pretty nippy out there, isn’t it?” the gentleman quipped. “Are you here to pray and meditate for a little while?”

“I suppose so, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay.  I’m afraid that we do close the doors to the chapel at 9 p.m. so you’ll have to leave then.”

“I understand.”

Mark walked slowly up the central aisle of the chapel and felt the warmth of the room enter him.  He got to the front of the church and kneeled at the altar.  He didn’t pray.  He just kneeled with his head on the rail.  He was in a corner. 

Others came into the chapel, said a prayer, and left.  Most paid no attention to the rough-hewn man in the corner.  A woman and her two children came in to pray.  The little girl was carrying a candy cane.  The three prayed.  As they got up to leave, the little girl noticed the man and offered him her candy cane.  He kept his head bowed, so she just put it beside him on the rail.

At 9 p.m., the old gentleman surveyed the chapel but didn’t notice that Mark was still there.  The gentleman cut out the lights, lowered the thermostat a little, and closed the door.  The locking of the door startled Mark a little as he found himself in complete darkness. He huddled against the rail and went to sleep.

Early the next morning, the pastor of the church came in to check on things.  He was surprised to see Mark up next to the altar.  He gently patted Mark on the back, which brought Mark out of his sleep.

“Sir, I suppose you have been here all night.  Are you okay?”

“I think so.  I didn’t mean to stay here.  I had planned to leave.  I promise.”

“That’s okay.”  As he helped Mark up, he said, “Why don’t you come home with me and get a good breakfast?”

“Oh no, that’s okay.  Thanks just the same.”

“Please. It’s no trouble.”

Mark reluctantly accepted the invitation.  The pastor brought Mark to the parsonage where they were greeted by his wife.”

“Martha, we’ve got an extra friend to join us for breakfast”

The pastor’s wife’s name was not really Martha.  It was Gwen.  The pastor used the name “Martha” when he wanted to invoke a biblical reference.  She knew what he meant.

“Come on in.  The children have already eaten, if you can believe that.  And what’s your name sir?

“My name’s Mark.”

“Well, Mark, why don’t you get cleaned up a little and join us at the breakfast table.”

“Thank you so much, ma’am.”

Breakfast was quiet, almost Benedictine.  As they rose from the table, the pastor remarked to his wife,

“Martha, Mark here is about my size.  Why don’t you show him the bathroom so he can get cleaned up and maybe you can find one of my suits and shirts and all for him to wear.  It looks as though what he’s wearing has served him well and is ready to be retired.

“I couldn’t accept that.  That’s too much.  Breakfast was too much.

“Nonsense, “the pastor replied.  “You’ll been so much better with fresh clothes and a bath.”

While the pastor talked to Mark, his wife had gone to the bathroom to get it all prepared and then gone to a closet and chest of drawers to find some clothes.  She even found some shoes the hoped would fit.

“Mark, I’ve got to leave for the church.  If you’d like, after you’re all spiffy, you are welcome to join my wife and our children for the service.  No pressure.  Only if you want to.  You are welcome to just go your own way.

“I’ve been going my own way for quite a while” was Mark’s reply.

Mark got all cleaned up.  His clothes, and even the shoes, fit reasonably well.  When he presented himself to Gwen Knowles, the pastor’s wife, she gasped, but kept her thoughts to herself.  She recognized Mark Verlott.

She, her children, and Mark entered the chapel and were seated.  As usual, the chapel was filled with congregants and the choir filled the choir loft.  When it was time for the sermon, the pastor went to the pulpit and led the congregation in prayer.  He then began his sermon:

“My friends, we all know what a special time this is for Christians.  Every year we celebrate Advent.  As much as possible it done to raise our hopes and excitement about the miracle of Christmas day.  And every year, my sermons tend to focus on the prophecies concerning the coming of the Messiah and the events leading up to that special day.  I had a sermon all planned.  It was, I hope, well researched, and, I hope even more, designed to be inspiring.  However, I’ve changed my plans.  I want to focus on Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son.  I hope the reason for this will become clear to me as we continue.  I say this because I have no idea why I chose this topic. 

You are all, I’m sure familiar with this parable.  A young man goes to his father and asks for his inheritance.  He want to go out and see the world.  He wants adventure.  And we know what happens to him.  He squanders his inheritance.  After a period of time, he finds himself broke, homeless, and jobless. He finds work in a pigsty, something that for a Jew would be beneath contempt.  He thinks about how even the lowliest servant of his father has a decent job doing honorable work.  He has clean place to lay his head and at least enough food to sustain him.  He returns to his father in shame and asks his father if he will consider making him one of those lowly servants.  Little did this son know that, every day, his father went out to the edge of his property and looked into horizon.  Every day he hoped and prayed his son would return. The smallest speck on the horizon lifted his hopes.  And then one day, the speck came closer, and while it was still a speck, the father knew it was his son.  The father ran out and greeted his son.  The son begged his father to take him on as a servant, for he deserved nothing more.  The father would hear nothing of it.  He praised God for bringing his son back to him and covered his son in glory. 

Then of course, there is the other son.  This was the son who stayed at home.  He was obedient and hard working.  He did everything he could to help his father.  He probably did this not just out of duty but out of love.  But then, this wastrel brother returns and the father is beside himself.  The obedient, hardworking son is angered and beside himself with rage. 

Well,  here is another take on this story.  I’ll call it the prodigal father.  In this parable, we have a man who has a wonderful family.  He has a good job and things are going well.  Then, something happens, perhaps things happen at his job.  He finds that he is not as respected or as valued at his job as he had been.  He finds it more and more difficult to go into work.  Yet, he doesn’t want to reveal this to his wife or children.  He wants to continue the idea that everything is just fine.  He bottles things up.  He puts on a front. 

Then, the bottle breaks.  He starts acting in ways his family cannot understand.  He has lost faith in himself and begins creating reasons for his wife and children to reject him.  Finally, his family, especially his wife, can take it no more.  He is thrown out and told not to return until he has returned to himself. He wanders aimlessly for years.  His wife and children manage to make things work, but their hearts are broken.  The smallest child, especially, prays every morning and every night for her father to return. 

Now, let’s bring this sermon home , shall we?  And I mean this in a literal sense.  God, Jehovah, our heavenly father looks out over the horizon constantly.  He looks for that speck. We celebrate Advent once a year.  Our heavenly father observes it every second of every day.  Then, one day, or one night, he sees a speck.  That’s right; God can see in the dark.  You knew that, didn’t you?  He recognizes the speck.  He recognizes every speck.  He knows every speck on every speck.  He runs to great his child.  He doesn’t just stand there like some angry, immovable force.  Sinners in the hands of a loving God.

Of course, there are his children who didn’t leave, at least physically.  They stayed.  They polished the silver goblets until they were gleaming.  They vacuumed the carpets and dusted the pews.  They did so, not just out of duty, but out of love.  And yet, how might they react when the Father they adore leaves them and races toward that speck – that nobody.  Do they get angry?  Do they show bitterness?  Do they look down on their brother, or sister?”

At this point in the sermon, Mark slowly rose from the pew he occupied with the pastor’s wife and children.  The pastor saw this and didn’t know if this prodigal father would leave or just find a corner to be by himself.  Mark chose to find a corner, where he began weeping softly.

Although the congregants certainly noticed this, the service continued through the offering, anthem, hymns and postlude.  The choir recessed down the aisle and the pastor followed.  He looked over at Mark, who was huddled in a corner in the back of the church.  Each of the congregants went by Mark.  Most of them touched him.  Many of them said something like:  “God loves you and we love you.” The words rang hollow.  Finally, a woman and her two children went over to Mark and knelt down with him. They held on to each other.

The pastor stood at the entrance to the church and greeted the congregants.  More congregants than ever stood in line to thank the pastor for his sermon.  They said it was the finest advent sermon they have ever heard.  They WERE brought home. He hoped they were.

As the last congregants left, the pastor’s wife and children came up to him.  “The man who came to breakfast this morning.  That was Mark Verlott, wasn’t it?” Gwen Knowles asked.

“Yes it was.  I recognized him immediately.  I’ve seen him around town but let him have his space.”

“What are you going to do now?  They’re still in the chapel and we usually lock up after the service.”

“I’m not going to do anything.  They’ll just stay there for a while.  I’ll come back and lock up.”

“But they’ll be in there all alone.”

“You know that isn’t true.”

“That’s why that sermon so special this morning, wasn’t it.  Everyone heard the words, but perhaps they also saw God running to greet someone.  They had to decide if they were just as happy as their Father was.”

“I only hope they are.”