James Tissot

Personal and Family Devotions for Easter 5, Sunday May 10

James Tissot, The Last Supper

For this Fifth Sunday (during the Great 50 Days) of Easter, I am happy once again to share with you a format for personal and family devotions.

I invite you to read these readings, and pray these prayers tomorrow. The format is especially suitable for sharing with others. I am sure that many of you are already staying in touch with family, friends and loved ones, with the help of an app like Zoom for web-based internet group meetings. Feel free to share the link to the devotions with others

The painting above and in the Devotions document is by James Tissot. The image corresponds to the context of the reading from John’s Gospel for this day.

You can access the Personal and Family Devotions document that I have prepared for tomorrow, Sunday, May 10, 2020, by clicking here.

Finding Beauty During Holy Week

James Tissot, The Resurrection

 

I had the privilege of seeing the original of this image by James Tissot at a recent exhibit of his work in San Francisco. I have known about this painting for some time, but was struck by how relatively small it is (image size approximately 8″ x 12″). Given the size, Tissot’s attention to detail is astonishing, especially when seen alongside his large oil paintings.

Like the one above, Tissot’s biblical paintings were largely done with opaque water color paint (now commonly termed “gouache” paint) and graphite on textured gray paper. This sets the water color paintings apart from his oil paintings in terms of their technical quality and pictorial finish. Nevertheless, they are in some ways more remarkable because Tissot was using the less forgiving medium of water colors instead of oil paints, which provide greater flexibility for painting over unsatisfactory or undesired results.

Choosing a single image for consideration in the context of Holy Week presents a certain challenge. For which of the events that we commemorate this week provides the most suitable reference point for our reflection? Considering this question, and possible answers to it, can help us gain insight about how we understand Holy Week in relation to Easter and more specifically whether we view the Passion (the arrest, trial, torture, and crucifixion) of Jesus as an essential part of the Easter story.

We know that it is not just among Christians, but also among Jews and Muslims, that notable differences concerning belief and practice exist among pious adherents of a shared religious tradition. A significant variable for Christians concerns how -in our prayers, worship and practices this week- we approach the relative significance of the key liturgical ‘moments’ that we commemorate during the ‘Holy Three Days’ (or Paschal Triduum). According to the biblical concept of time, these three days commence at sundown on what we now call Maundy Thursday. And so, the first ‘day’ includes remembrance of the Last Supper, Jesus’ arrest and trial, as well as his Good Friday crucifixion. The second ‘day’ then begins on Good Friday evening, just after when Jesus would have been buried. And the third begins after sundown on Holy Saturday evening, and includes the twenty four hours during which Jesus’ resurrection occurred and his empty tomb was then discovered.

When considering the significance of the events we commemorate at this time of the year, some Christians think primarily in terms of Easter Sunday and what Jesus’ resurrection will mean for them. Many others include in their reflection a spiritual consideration of the events we associate with Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. The broader ‘catholic’ liturgical tradition reflects this wider perspective in the liturgies appointed for Palm Sunday at the beginning of Holy Week. For example, The Book of Common Prayer liturgy for Palm Sunday commemorates Jesus’ journey on a donkey down from the Mount of Olives and his entrance into the Holy City, which leads to his ‘cleansing of the Temple’ and the subsequent conflict this provoked. A central feature of the Palm Sunday liturgy is a reading of the full Passion narrative from one of the first three Gospels. John’s Passion narrative is always read every year on Good Friday. And, on both Palm Sunday and Good Friday, the Passion story often incorporates readers who give voice to individual parts within the narrative.

In light of these observations, and as we prepare to enter the ‘Holy Three Days,’ I invite you to consider Tissot’s painting titled, The Resurrection. As you view and reflect on it, here are some details you may want to take into account:

  • Tissot portrays the moment of Jesus’ resurrection at night (rather than ‘Sunday morning,’ with lanterns partially illuminating the scene
  • Matthew’s Gospel mentions Joseph of Arimathea placing Jesus’ body “in his own new tomb, which he had hewn in the rock;” Tissot adds a dressed stone frame around the tomb entrance
  • though the crucifixion was enacted by Roman soldiers, Matthew suggests that the guard of soldiers sent to the tomb belong to the chief priests and the Pharisees and are primarily local citizens
  • the risen Lord still bears the marks of his torture and execution, though his wounds are transformed into points of light
  • diaphanous angels appear on the righthand side of the tomb opening

These and other observations about this resurrection painting make it relevant to our observance of Holy Week, as well as to Easter. I offer this image and these comments as a way into the mystery of this week.

 

The image above is James Tissot’s painting, The Resurrection, which with many of his other biblical paintings is part of the collection of the Brooklyn Museum.

Subject and Object

(James Tissot’s painting, Jesus Looking through a Lattice)

I continue to be fascinated by the distinction between subject and object. That is, between being the subject of the act of seeing, and being the object of someone else’s attention.

Typically, we act as if God and divine revelation are objects of our attention. Notice the way that we often speak about how people ‘seek God’ with the hope of ‘finding’ the divine presence. And yet, of course, God is not ‘lost;’ only we are! So, I think what we really seek is the experience of being ‘found,’ not only by someone who becomes a friend or a lover but most especially by God.

As Jesus’ parable of the lost sheep and his portrayal of the father in the story of the prodigal remind us, God seeks us. We can trace this idea back to the first chapters of Genesis where God seeks our primeval forebear by asking, “where art thou?”(KJV) From the beginning of Creation, we have been the object of God’s subjectivity long before we became personally conscious of it.

In two evocative paintings, James Tissot visually explores this inversion of perspective. These and many of his other 19th century watercolors curiously anticipate modern theatrical approaches to creating ‘scenes.’ His skill in this regard is most dramatically evident in his painting, What Our Savior Saw from the Cross (below). Portraying what we often think of as the decisive moment in salvation history, Tissot doesn’t show us Jesus as he suffers on our behalf. Instead, Tissot depicts the Lord’s loving regard for others who suffer because of their love for him. He who is so often the object of our devotional regard is represented as the subject of God’s attentive concern for us.

Much more subtle, yet equally significant I think, is his delightful painting, Jesus Looking through a Lattice (image at the top). I believe that this apparently whimsical image by Tissot actually embodies a profound spiritual and theological insight. For why does Tissot portray Jesus as looking at us, the viewers of this painting, peering at us through a lattice? Taking the image both literally and figuratively, has Jesus gone in to an inner chamber where he awaits us to join him? Or, have we gone out into the garden of our own pursuits while yet remaining within his view? Is he being coy, ‘spying’ on us (as we might say)? Or are we the ones who prefer to be somewhat hidden? Though both are possible, our usual instincts lead us to assume the former. Even though we are always the objects of divine loving regard, whether we are aware of it or not.

May we continue to experience the joy of being found by God.

 

The images above are by James Tissot ~ Jesus Looking through a Lattice, and What our Lord Saw from the Cross. Both water color paintings are featured in the exhibit, “James Tissot: Fashion and Faith,” at the Legion of Honor Museum in San Francisco. After February 9, 2020 the exhibit moves to Paris.

The Beauty of Prayer

 

In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus journeys toward Jerusalem. On the way, he senses the looming adversity it harbors for him and his disciples. To strengthen his followers, he tells them a little story with a simple point. We shouldn’t let the details distract us from Luke’s introduction to it. He plainly states the purpose of Jesus’ story. “Jesus told his disciples a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart.”

Unless we are careful, we are likely to assume that Jesus wants us to see prayer as boiling down to persuasion! But the point of his story is not for us to try to persuade God about the rightness of our needs! The point is for us to be as persevering in prayer as was the woman who kept pestering the unjust judge. We are to persevere in prayer precisely so that God can persuade us about the rightness of God’s will. Jesus commends the example of the woman’s persistence, not her insistence on getting her way. Discerning that God wants us to be attentive and faithful, we then see that our relationship with God is the real issue, not our needs. If even an unjust judge will respond to persistence, how much more will our righteous God vindicate Israel’s faithful, who seek him?

Just as children do with their parents, we usually take our relationship with our Father in heaven for granted. At the same time we are absorbed with our needs and wants. Yet, we can also choose to be intentional about our relationship with God, and trust God’s Providence for our needs. Well, this is hard to do!

Here we can connect with Jacob’s experience, as recorded in Genesis 32. Jacob’s life has been greatly disrupted. He is filled with unease about meeting his brother Esau, whom he has wronged. Jacob worries for himself and his future, about his kids and his possessions. He wrestles with anxiety. During a dark night, he discovers he is wrestling with more than worry – he is wrestling with God! And so, he is also wrestling with himself.

This is the key: wrestling with God is usually the result of resisting God, and of resisting God’s will. Wrestling with God can leave us with the spiritual equivalent of a limp. As with Jacob, this ‘limp’ results from our stubbornness and hard-heartedness. In spite of this, God truly wants everyone to receive divine blessing, whether it’s Jacob and Esau, or all of us. But, sometimes, and maybe even often, we get in the way!

At the very least, as Jacob discovered, prayer is about hanging on to God, no matter what… ~ even while we are asking God questions, and even while we are contending with God’s will for us. It really is ok to tell God we are angry or sad, or disappointed or depressed. And it really is ok to tell God that we blame God for these things! The point is to tell God, instead of telling our friends or Facebook. By asking God, or honestly telling God, we engage with the Spirit’s presence. Then, like Jacob, we are in the best position to receive a divine blessing. It helps us see that prayer has little to do with changing God’s will. Instead, prayer has everything to do with God changing our will. For God always seeks to change our will so that it comes into accord with God’s great love for us.

 

The image above is of James Tissot’s painting, Jacob Wrestles With an Angel. This post is based on my homily for Sunday, October 20, 2019, which can be accessed by clicking here. Other homilies of mine may be accessed by clicking here. The Revised Common Lectionary, which specifies the readings for Sundays and other Holy Days, can be accessed by clicking here.

The Beauty of Discernment

 

“Someone in the crowd said to Jesus, ‘Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me’.” Luke is so subtle here. This un-named man, who appears to want to remain anonymous, is perhaps a generic stand-in for all fallen human beings. For he is us ~ not some unnamed ‘other!’ Nevertheless, and as a sign of the same sin, this man wants a particular judgement tailored to his own personal circumstances. Yet, Jesus, as he so often does when teaching, responds with generic principles that apply to everyone and to every circumstance.

This matches my own experience. When, through prayer I ask God to solve a particular problem, I often find the Spirit leading me back to deep and abiding principles, just as Jesus did with the unnamed man. By this, God prompts us to engage in a searching process of discernment. This helps us understand what our questions are really about, so we can appreciate what what we are really asking for. The discernment that God encourages within us leads us to self-awareness and greater self-perception.

A man asks Jesus to solve his financial problems by making his brother share the family inheritance. And Jesus says to him, and to everyone else in the crowd including the disciples, “Take care! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed…” Those are words that apply to all of us, not just to the anonymous question-asker hiding in the crowd who wants his particular problem solved. Characteristically, Jesus then tells a story to illustrate his point.

James Tissot has left us with an evocative and cautionary painting illustrating Jesus’ parable about ‘the man who hoards.’ Concerning the danger of greed, Tissot’s painting focus’ on the spiritual warning that Jesus provides. The greedy man in the story is commonly referred to as the rich fool. As this troubled man sits among his many large sacks of grain and other valuables, he ponders how to hang on to his accumulating wealth. Having more than he needs, he considers replacing his present storage barns with larger ones. In the process, his avarice takes hold of him, gravely endangering his soul. Tissot captures the spiritual seriousness of the moment by employing a symbol representing the mortal threat at the heart of the story. Unseen behind the greedy man, the power of death is symbolized by the large figure unleashing a sword.

As the disciples and others begin to perceive from their Master’s sayings and stories, Jesus’ vocation as Messiah lifts him above having merely a local role as a teacher and guide for a particular community. For Jesus’ teaching applies to all communities at all times, not just to this or that community set within a single cultural context. So, when asked to settle the unnamed man’s case concerning inheritance, Jesus’ reply should not surprise us: “”Friend, who set me to be a judge or arbitrator over you?”

 

The image above is of James Tissot’s painting, The Man Who Hoards. This post is based on my homily for Sunday, August 4, 2019, which can be accessed by clicking here. Other homilies of mine may be accessed by clicking here. The Revised Common Lectionary, which specifies the readings for Sundays and other Holy Days, can be accessed by clicking here.

 

 

His Continuing Mission

 

One of the most familiar aspects of the Gospels is Jesus’ choice of ‘the twelve,’ whom he appoints as his disciples. All four Gospels mention the twelve. Luke alone (in chapter 10) records a second sending out of Jesus’ followers in mission, which numbered seventy of them.

Whereas the ministry of the twelve becomes associated with the ordained ministers of the Church, the ministry of the seventy represents the ministry of the laity, the whole Body of the Church, and of all the baptized. Like the seventy, we are all sent out as bearers of the Kingdom and of the Kingdom’s Risen Lord. And so, we are able to say, to all those we meet, “the Kingdom of God has come near to you!” This is not a theoretical statement. It specifically refers to the Lord’s presence within every baptized person. For every one of us becomes a moving temple of the Holy Spirit, wherever we go, and whatever we do.

At Baptism, we are all appointed and commissioned as ministers of the Gospel. Commissioning is co–missioning – we are joined to the Lord; we are joined to the Lord’s Risen Body; and therefore, we are joined to the Lord’s ongoing mission. The Lord’s ongoing mission is something more expansive than simply providing worship, formation and care, in and to the local congregation. The Lord’s ongoing mission is to the whole world, and it involves announcing the real presence of God’s Kingdom.

God’s Kingdom is made present in and through each one of us by the Lord who commissions us. We are not only sent out in his name. We are sent out with his Spirit. Perhaps, we might have occasion to marvel that “even the demons are subject to us.” The truth of this statement does not rest on any attribute of ours. Demons are subject to us only because we bear the Lord’s Spirit-transforming presence. For Jesus is Lord over heaven and earth… and, therefore, Lord over every spirit not in accord with the Holy Spirit.

Notice the Lord’s words to the Seventy upon their return. He says, “do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you.” Jesus does not dispute that evil spirits will submit to us. They are indeed subject to us. But only subject to us in so far as we ourselves are subject to the Lord. He just does not want us to focus on how or whether they may be subject to us. For —in our human pride— we misunderstand and misrepresent the source of his power. We should remember his words to the seventy: “See, I have given you authority… over all the power of the enemy; and nothing will hurt you.” And this is this is true because of the reality in which he wants us to rejoice : We are part of his Body, the Church. Therefore, in him, we have an ongoing mission to the world. Through us, his mission continues.

 

The image above is of James Tissot’s painting, Christ Sending Out the Seventy Disciples, Two By Two. This post is based on my homily for Sunday, July 7, 2019, which can be accessed by clicking here.  Other homilies of mine may be accessed by clicking here. The Revised Common Lectionary, which specifies the readings for Sundays and other Holy Days, can be accessed by clicking here.

The Beauty of a Map and a Compass

 

 

Two college students drive into the mountains for a weekend hiking trip. Perhaps because they were up late writing term papers the night before, both of them are tired. During the long afternoon drive, even cups of coffee fail to keep them fully alert. As the road winds in and out of canyons, rising rock walls deflect the low sun and create deep shadows. Coming around one particularly sharp turn in a switch-back, the SUV skids on gravel, and the vehicle veers off the road. Down an embankment they slide, and slam into a tree. Suddenly everything is white and dusty – the airbags have exploded, saving them from serious injury.

Now they have a real problem. They are in a remote area where cell phones don’t work; the SUV is ruined; and it’s getting dark. Of course, they could just stay where they are, surviving on their packed food and water, and could sleep in what’s left of their vehicle. But neither of them wants to do that. The alternative is to walk out, and try to find a way back to a main road. Aside from food and bottled water they stuff into their day-packs, they have two things that can help them. They have an accurate map, and a working compass, the right tools for them to hike out safely.

But this is where things go from bad to worse. In this moment, each of them has a strong idea about the right way out of this remote place. The problem is, they do not agree about the way forward. Being tired and stressed, and having contrasting personalities, they respond to their situation in very different ways. As a result, they head off in separate directions, one with the map, the other holding the compass.

Initially, this seems like a sensible solution for two people who disagree about their predicament. But the decision proves near-fatal for both of them. Of course, a good map and a working compass are valuable in a situation like this. But, paradoxically, neither tool is of real use without the other. This is why: A good map shows where everything is, including ways in and out of the area. But it does not tell you where you should go. Whereas a working compass always points to magnetic north, and therefore provides direction. But it won’t tell you where you are.

Most of all, refusing collaboration with the other person reading the map or holding the compass diminishes each of their prospects. For both of them are likely to remain lost while, on their own, trying to interpret what can be learned from a map or a compass.

At the Last Supper, Jesus gives his disciples something like a map, a map formed by the memory of his sayings and his works. He who is The Way, gives them a map of The Way. This map reminds them of their relationship with him, and of his relationship with what God has been doing through both him and them. Their challenge is to connect this map of his sayings and works, with the unfamiliar terrain of the new world around them.

But as he has promised, Jesus also gives his disciples something like a compass, which is the guiding Holy Spirit, who always points in the same unwavering and godly direction. Like a compass, the Holy Spirit will help them follow a straight path. But, they still need to know The Way on which they are to head, and the route they need to follow.

And so, like them, we need to rely upon the teaching Scriptures, as well as upon the guiding Holy Spirit, in order to find our way forward in life. For Jesus has given us two intertwined and inseparable gifts that come together as one: this is ‘the Scripture-shaped Tradition of Spirit-guided reasoning.’

 

The images above are James Tissot’s paintings, The Last Sermon of our Lord, and The Last Supper. This post is based on my homily for Easter 6, May 26, 2019, which can be accessed by clicking here.  Other homilies of mine may be accessed by clicking here. The Revised Common Lectionary, which specifies the readings for Sundays and other Holy Days, can be accessed by clicking here.

Belief Enables Perception

 

In the Temple’s portico of Solomon, Jesus is challenged concerning his identity, whether he is the Messiah. In response, Jesus points to the works that he does in his Father’s name. Clearly, those who question him neither really hear him, nor see who he is.

John, in the book of Revelation, records a series of visions. “I looked,” he says, “and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the Lamb.” John’s vision of the multitude is not as dramatic as some other images in Revelation. But even this relatively tame scene, recorded in chapter 7, can strike us as fantasy. Most of us never see things like John describes. And, as we say, if I don’t see it, I therefore don’t believe it!

But what if? What if invisible and spiritual things are just as real as what we see and touch? One attribute I appreciate about the photographer, Dewitt Jones, is how he turns conventional wisdom on its head. Instead of limiting belief to what we perceive, he challenges us to believe so that we might see. In his view, perception does not enable belief. Instead, belief enables perception. As a photographer, Dewitt Jones articulates a significant spiritual principle.

We might imagine that, in John’s captivity on the prison island of Patmos, the seer of Revelation had ‘private visions’. Denied the freedom to gather for worship with other believers, God may have given him compensatory visions to sustain him in his solitude. Yet, it seems clear that John was a person of deep faith prior to receiving his visions. And his vision of the multitude should sound familiar to us, especially during Eastertide.

Here are some words many of us pray to our Father in this Easter season: “Fountain of life and source of all goodness, you made all things and fill them with your blessing… Countless throngs of angels stand before you… Joining with them, we sing “Holy, holy, holy…” In this prayer, we are part of the same multitude that John reports having seen in his vision, gathered before the throne of the Lamb. As we join the community he sees, we share their praise and thanksgiving.

Even more to the point, notice what we sing about: “Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might, heaven… and earth… are full of your glory.” I have always loved what those words suggest ~ heaven, and earth, are full of God’s glory! The world is filled with wonder, grace and blessing!

In our Eucharist, we say what we believe. And our believing is then key to our seeing. In the same prayer, we also say, “we acclaim you, holy Lord… Your mighty works reveal your wisdom and love.” In other words, whether we perceive it or not, God’s creative handiwork all around us reveals God’s wisdom and love. Grace inhabits Creation. Because God’s handiwork is revelatory, it’s possible for us to see more than we do now. Not only did the Creator make all things and fill them with divine blessing, God created all things, including us, to rejoice in the splendor of God’s own radiance. When we perceive this blessing within ourselves, in each other, and in all that surrounds us, we then give voice to every creature under heaven, as we offer our gifts of bread and wine.

 

The image above is James Tissot’s painting, Jesus Walks in the Portico of Solomon. This post is based on my homily for Easter 4, May 12, 2019, which can be accessed by clicking here.  Other homilies of mine may be accessed by clicking here. The Revised Common Lectionary, which specifies the readings for Sundays and other Holy Days, can be accessed by clicking here.

A Beautifully Hospitable Dinner at Bethany

 

It is evening in Bethany, the little village near the top of the Mount of Olives. A dinner party has been planned at a small and modest home inhabited by Mary, Martha and Lazarus. With their extended invitation the three siblings plan to honor a special guest. Since the three are living together, some folks assume they don’t have much money. This fits well with the highly symbolic world of their Scriptures because Bethany, in Hebrew, means house of the poor.

Jesus is a close friend to these three siblings, each one so different from the others. They embrace him with a love that helps us see what godly friendship is all about. Jesus and the siblings are especially close now. After seeing his loving tears at Lazarus’ tomb, and how he brought their brother back to life, he is dear to the two sisters’ hearts.

While evening brings quiet to the village, those gathered for the meal sense a wariness amongst their neighbors. Jesus’ arrival in nearby Jerusalem has evoked tension and conflict. Despite this, his beloved friends appear not to realize that Lazarus’ resuscitation has prompted a plan to kill Jesus. Just before describing this supper, John tells us that the chief priests and the Pharisees have ordered anyone knowing where Jesus was to report it, so they might arrest him. Tension radiates outward from the Temple, throughout the city. But at the top of the hill across the Kidron Valley, in the soft light of small oil lamps, Jesus and his disciples are welcomed to dinner. Despite having a small household with limited means, their hosts have planned a festive and joyous evening.

With spiritual insight, James Tissot has captured the circumstances of Jesus’ slow walk to the dinner. The Eastern Wall of the Temple is at Jesus’ back ~ the very place where he will enter in a few days on what we now call ‘Palm Sunday.’ He is ascending the Mount of Olives, from which it was believed the Messiah would someday come and enter into the Temple. In a very subtle way, Tissot visually hints at the storms hovering over the Holy City as the Passover approaches. Yet, at this moment, Jesus walks quietly toward what he surely wishes will be a peaceful evening ~ and for a pause from the stress and pressure that his coming to Jerusalem has aroused.

At this dinner, Mary models a beautifully extravagant idea. It is to offer all that we are, and all that we have to God’s self-revelation in Jesus! And, for the sake of God’s kingdom! To make such an offering is way beyond the usual and reasonable bounds within which we constrain ourselves. And far beyond the usual prudent limits by which we measure things in terms of cost. But as we see in Mary’s example, there is usually only one thing that moves us to respond in this way: joy! Sheer joy grabs her heart and moves her to give her all. Mary gives her all to him, and to the new life that he is even now unleashing in this world.

 

The above painting is James Tissot’s, Jesus Goes in the Evening to Bethany. This post is based on my homily for Sunday, April 7, 2019, which can be accessed by clicking here.  Other homilies of mine may be accessed by clicking here. The Revised Common Lectionary, which specifies the readings for Sundays and other Holy Days, can be accessed by clicking here.

The Beauty of Our Return

 

I share with you an unusual set of images from James Tissot. They represent his transition from a French and English society painter to being a visual communicator of the Gospel. They are three of his four paintings depicting The Prodigal Son in Modern Life. How beautifully he evokes the son’s presumptuous ascendancy over his father’s legacy. Then, the son’s foolhardy journey into adventures of his own making. And, third, his return home to his father’s good favor. One key to the subtlety of these three paintings is to notice the older brother in the first painting where he is sitting by his wife. He is musing about distant possibilities for himself, just as his more impetuous brother is beginning to act upon a similarly fanciful vision. In the third image, we observe the stoic and prideful older brother standing by his wife, reluctant to approach and embrace his just-returned sibling.

As Tissot show us, wise readers notice in Luke’s story that we hear about two lost sons, not just the one who went to a far-off land. The older brother couldn’t recognize how his own life was gifted, having entered into an abundant legacy that had also become his. This may be true for us, as well. So, we need to be thoughtful about how we refer to this un-named parable. To say it’s about the prodigal son overlooks how it’s also about the presumptuous older brother, as well as about the ever-loving father.

When we focus on the younger son in Jesus’ parable, we become more sensitive to how it may help check us from wandering away from God and from God’s ways. For we find in this story an account of what it’s like to come to our senses, in circumstances that could kill us spiritually and physically. It speaks about what it means to ‘return home.’ But as dramatic as experiences like this can be, they stand out because they are occasional or singular.

Seeing this parable as also about the grumbling older brother helps us notice how significant it is for other times in our lives. This is not just a Gospel about looking back to what was, and has been. This is a Gospel about living forward, toward the future God is even now preparing for us.

We are called to the feast! We gather on Sundays for the same feast about which we hear in Luke’s Gospel parable. Our Eucharist is our celebration of the return of lost ones, both ourselves and others. Henri Nouwen’s great insight about this Gospel passage, and Rembrandt’s painting of it, is this: having once been the younger brother who has experienced the grace of returning home, we are all called to become the father in the story! In other words, we are called to become people who receive others, embracing those who return some time after we do. Let us eat and celebrate! For like us, our later-returning brothers and sisters were dead and are alive again; like us, they were lost, and now are found!

 

The above paintings are from James Tissot’s, The Prodigal Son in Modern Life, three of his four paintings depicting Jesus’ famous parable in Luke 15. This post is based on my homily for Sunday, March 31, 2019, which can be accessed by clicking here.  Other homilies of mine may be accessed by clicking here. The Revised Common Lectionary, which specifies the readings for Sundays and other Holy Days, can be accessed by clicking here.