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Sermon on the Prodigal Son and Divine Pedagogy

Today we hear the parable of the Prodigal Son, which sets before our eyes Divine pedagogy, showing us the manner in which the Lord God educates His children. It is necessary that we refer back to what I spoke to you about yesterday. Punishment—chastisement—is a part of Divine pedagogy; it is part of how the Lord God raises His children, Catholic souls. This is something that modern man, nominal Catholics, and even a great mass of so-called traditionalists would like to forget, to erase. Yet it is that which we Catholics ought always to have before our eyes: sin is always bound to consequences. Sin is bound to punishment, to that salutary chastisement. For indeed, the Lord God, by sending or permitting various types of punishments and temporal misfortunes, does so for a very specific purpose: to stir us to amendment, to lead us to conversion.

The parable we have just heard shows this in a beautiful way. That prodigal son leaves his parental home; he leaves with a portion of the estate and goes to a far country, where he squanders all that he received from his father. The prodigal son is a figure of the sinner—the sinner who receives from the Father a true treasure, sanctifying grace, but departs for a foreign land, goes to the devil, commits sin, and loses all that wealth of grace. And what happens then? Then, my dear ones, in that far country to which he went, where he lived dissolutely, a great famine arises. Thus, the prodigal son begins to suffer want. This, my dear ones, is the punishing hand of God, the hand of Justice. This famine appears there for a very specific purpose: to lead the prodigal son to conversion, to bring him back to the paternal home.
The Twofold Dimension of Hunger

This hunger of which we hear in the Gospel has a twofold dimension. On one hand, it is a physical hunger—a terrible thing, one of the greatest misfortunes that can befall a man. Many years ago, I had the opportunity to meet an elderly priest who, as a clergyman, was sent to the Dachau cσncєnтrαтισn cαмρ. He survived, and as an old man, he always carried a crust of dried bread in his cassock pocket. This drew mockery from the younger priests. They tapped their foreheads, thinking the old man was confused. After all, the shops were full, the shelves groaning under the weight of goods. Yet he was convinced he must have a piece of dry bread with him. When he heard these mocks, he would wag his finger and say: "You do not know what hunger is." Hunger is something terrible for the human body, because food is necessary to sustain life. Without food, after a time, a man simply dies.

So, on one hand, the prodigal son experiences this physical hunger, but simultaneously he experiences a spiritual hunger—great, perhaps even the greatest of misfortunes that can befall a man. He realizes that he has lost everything; he realizes that he is alone. He realizes that he is without Divine grace. And this hunger, my dear ones, is even worse than physical hunger—when a man realizes he is deprived of God's grace, that he is alone, that he lacks that merciful, paternal hand of God which supports and guides him.
Punishment as a Turning Point

When the prodigal son experiences hunger and misfortune, it becomes a turning point in his life. This confirms and sets before our eyes what I told you in yesterday’s sermon: Divine punishment is a consequence of sin, but Divine punishment is meant to lead a man to amendment; it is meant to shake him. It is meant to cause him to convert, to begin thinking in a completely different way. And so it happens with the prodigal son. After all that time full of sin, when hunger touches him, he begins to think differently than before. He realizes he has gone astray; he has sinned. He realizes his own misery and the hopelessness in which he finds himself.

And then, a thought is born within him: "I will arise and go to my father." The thought of conversion is born, of returning to the parental home. And this thought of return is joined with contrition and a resolution of amendment: "I will arise and go, and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee. I am not now worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants." The Divine chastisement that touches him leads him to conversion, to sorrow for sins, and a resolution to improve. And we read in Holy Scripture: God willeth not the death of the sinner, but that he be converted and live.
The Meeting of Justice and Mercy

We see, my dear ones, in the example of the prodigal son, how Divine punishment works—how that hand of Justice leads the straying soul back to the paternal home. And as he resolved, so he did; rising up, he went to his father. And what happens then, when our Heavenly Father sees the prodigal son? He sees the son who repents for what he has done, who desires to return to Him. He does something that, humanly speaking, perhaps none of us would expect: And when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him. God sees every soul that turns away from evil and desires to return to Him, and He assists that soul in its return.

Misericordia motus—moved by mercy. The Father runs to meet the prodigal son. He runs to welcome him, to embrace him. Thus, the grace that assists us in conversion—our resolution, our sorrow—leads to the Lord God helping us return to Him through His grace. And then, when the prodigal son returns to the father, what does the father command? He commands that the best robe be brought, that the son may be clothed anew. In the New Testament, the wedding garment is a figure, a sign of sanctifying grace. Thus, the son recovers the grace he had lost through his sin.

There is a beautiful painting by Rembrandt illustrating this parable: The Return of the Prodigal Son. The son kneels before the father. The father embraces him, but when one looks closely, the father’s hands differ. One hand is, we might say, masculine—thick, weathered, powerful. This is the hand of Divine Justice, the hand that punishes. The other hand is almost feminine—delicate, gentle—the hand of Mercy. This, my dear ones, is what the modern world wants to forget: that the Lord God punishes so that He may show mercy; that the chastisements which fall upon us—famine, plague, war—serve our conversion.
The Necessity of the Cross

The punishing hand of God leads us to the hand full of mercy. Look: the father, seeing the son's contrition, does not reproach him for what he has done. He does not remind him of any guilt for which he has repented. This is the magnitude of Divine Mercy—a mercy that, as it were, burns away the old so that nothing of it remains.

Dear faithful, let us pray fervently that, like the prodigal son, we may repent and do penance for all our faults. Let us pray that we never forget why we have crosses, hardships, and trials in this life on earth. Why does God punish man? He does so because of His mercy. The chastisement falling upon humanity is a part of Divine Mercy. If the prodigal son had not been touched by the great famine, he would most likely have delved further into what is evil and sinful, and would likely never have converted.

What I am saying is certainly very "politically incorrect" and inconsistent with what is taught by the "anti-church," which proclaims mercy, mercy, mercy—but without justice. Modern Catholics, thinking of Divine Mercy, think that God must guarantee them an easy, light, pleasant life, without problems, illnesses, or the sweat of the brow. We do not wish to invoke such a false mercy. We pray for true mercy, that which Rembrandt depicted.
Conclusion and Call to Sacrifice

In asking for true Divine Mercy, we also wish to ask for Divine punishment. We wish to submit ourselves to that hand of Justice, to accept the punishment we and others have deserved. We must be ready to bear hardships, sufferings, and crosses for those who refuse to do so. We are ready for the Lord God to scourge us, that we might save our souls and pray for the conversion of those who wander today in the utopia of false mercy.

Being a Catholic is not just a matter of attending the Tridentine Mass. That is only a part. Being a Catholic is a total change—the rejection of liberal, modernist ways of thinking. It is a deep conversion, which must be like a shedding of skin. It is not an easy or comfortable matter, but we know that he who does not serve the true God, who does not remain in sanctifying grace, condemns himself to eternal damnation in Hell.

There is no shortcut that allows one to bypass Calvary. If the devil convinces modern Catholics otherwise, he lies to them. Let us not be fools, but like the prodigal son, touched by the hand of Divine Justice, let us return as quickly as possible to our Father.