There are two seasons of the church year that are especially important to me. Advent--that short but intense season of expectation and anticipation just before Christmas and Lent--this season now, a time of lengthening shadows and strengthening light--these forty days before the resurrection of Earth on Easter morning. I've come to love these seasons: time to incubate subtle emotions and time to turn into the darker corners of self with a spiritual putty knife--perhaps scraping off some old dried up paint from another life or pushing out the globs of fossilized guilt and sadness of long ago.

We turn this morning to the extraordinary parable of the Prodigal Son, our Lenten theme for this year. Perhaps it is the story of Lent that best communicates all the important elements of life in relationship--grief, betrayal, love, forgiveness, compassion, loneliness, jealousy, lust, generosity and trust. It's the kind of story that goes deep and wide all at once and it should be revisited throughout life, since it has tremendous capacity to unveil our human psyches and heal our wounds over and over again.

The younger son is driven by curiosity and a desire for freedom to undertake a quest in a far away country. He is both anxious and precocious, wanting to leave home early even though he risks his father's life and health in order to achieve his own freedom. No doubt, his decision profoundly disturbs his father, his older brother and the entire community. In those days for a young man to leave home and demand his inheritance upon leaving was as if he was wishing his father dead. Normally he would have no right to his inheritance until death and asking for it early was basically saying, "Hand it over! To hell with you!"

But we are dealing here with something more than an adolescent rebellion, defiant behavior, or rejection and betrayal of all that has been freely given--family, parenthood, community, life. Some people, like the prodigal, simply have to risk the alienation of taking a journey into a far country in order to have any chance of coming home again. Think, for a minute about the dutiful son who remained at home. We know that he was resentful when the prodigal returned home. Is it possible that he remained home not out of duty but because he was afraid of risk? And that he envied and resented his more adventurous and spiritually free brother?

Who do you think knew more about the spiritual life, about risk, failure, repentance and forgiveness, the prodigal or his homesteading brother? My money is on the prodigal.

At first, he had a great time. But then with all that partying and high living, his money dried up and so did his friends. He became desperate and began to eat out of a trough for pigs. He realized that he could do better than this by being a hired hand on his father's land. This realization put him on the road to home.

It is not difficult to see the spiritual alienation and dilemma of our country and ourselves in this parable. We have been an immensely adventurous and creative nation. It is not accidental that we have ascended to a position where we might be the most powerful nation in the world. But some of our creativity has become destructive. We lead the world in the creation of weapons and the pollution of the atmosphere. We are truly exhausting our inheritance. We are a lot like the younger son. And with the war in Iraq at 1/2 billion per day, we are spending our grandchildren's last dollars. And if we are not careful, we may be left friendless and alienated from the rest of the world.

The question now is how do we come home again?

Like the younger son, much of our culture needs to return home. We need to discover and embrace our true relationship with the Creator of Creation and Mother Earth, with Sister Peace and Brother Reconciliation. A return for us could mean rediscovering the legacy of the holy, a return from entitlement, narcissism and self-destruction. We've got to get on the long road toward forgiveness, reconciliation and deep joy in reunion.

In our story, the father, a surrogate for God, shows unconditional love and forgiveness for the prodigal. This is where our condition differs radically. God may forgive, but nature does not. In our alienation from the natural world that we are fast destroying by our hyper-creativity, economic mania and consumerism, we will not be healed easily or quickly. In matters of God's Creation, we have all sinned and fallen short of the glory of Creation.

What would it mean for us to return, to come home again? It would mean a return to our second innocence. This second innocence and aliveness is reached through making conscious choices for the life of all creation and relationships. We could begin by acknowledging that we have abused Creation--and deciding that we will tread more gently and nonviolently upon the earth. We could acknowledge that we have used violence and war to settle disputes. We could confess that we have ignored the poor, the lost, the refugee among us in favor of the beautiful and the rich and famous.

A return home is a return to the Beloved and a state of belovedness. We come home, by first returning to ourselves and then returning to a life filled with compassion even as we recognize the compassionate embrace of the Beloved. South African Archbishop Desmond Tutu believes that forgiveness and reconciliation is a human necessity--a person is a person only through other people. It is important that we do all that we can to restore our human and natural relationships. Without relationships, we shrivel into our own shells and die. The younger son experienced that shriveling and he "came to himself" as the story tells us.

As you prepare for this moment of sharing bread and cup this morning--here are some questions for you:

Paul Tillich reminds us that "forgiveness means reconciliation in spite of estrangement, reunion in spite of hostility, acceptance despite being unacceptable and reception of all those who have been rejected. Forgiveness is unconditional or it is not forgiveness."

As Christians, we can embrace a complex view of our authentic forgiveness–by not simply accepting it and then doing nothing. We must not rob the world of hope and the possibility of transformation. New courage is essential if we are to face the evils of the world and struggle against them. Fresh faith and authentic forgiveness calls us to envision a world in which we may all live free from unnecessary pain and violence. Our faith calls upon us to work toward a world where all are beloved and welcomed home.

The younger son received unconditional love and authentic forgiveness–new life at last was possible.

Now, what is the rest of the story?

Amen.