Fourth Sunday of Lent [C]
FOURTH SUNDAY OF LENT [C]
Perhaps you’ve seen the character “Dr. Jekyll” portrayed on film. The performance of Frederic March stands out (1931), along with the performance of John Barrymore (1920). Prior to appearing on screen, the character first appears as the subject of a Gothic novel, a novel authored by Robert Louis Stevenson (1886). He presents Henry Jekyll as a physician, who enjoys spending time in the laboratory, conducting experiments. The day arrives when he conducts a particular risky experiment—upon himself. As a result, suddenly he’s changing. Before long, he establishes himself as his own worst enemy. His savage persona will become known as “Mr. Hyde.” The two identities contend with each other, vying for supremacy. The cycle continues to repeat itself, until the story brings us to a tragic ending—typical within the category of Gothic fiction.
Your heart goes out to Dr. Jekyll. It’s a tormenting experience when you find that you are acting as your own worst enemy. This phenomenon shows up, not only within the pages of Gothic fiction, but also within the pages of Sacred Scripture. Consider the example of the Israelites. Why did it take so long for them to complete their Exodus journey (see Josh. 5:9-12)? Well, it’s hard to make progress when you insist on being your own worst enemy. That happens to be the pattern outlined in the Book of Exodus and also in the Book of Numbers. Time and again, the people of Israel are being revealed as their own worst enemy.
But it’s not something reserved to the Old Testament; we additionally should pay close attention to the Gospel of Luke, chapter fifteen. The Prodigal Son has hit “rock bottom.” It’s a state of affairs that he has brought upon himself. He has been his own worst enemy. Finally, however, we can say that his story is beginning to trend in a positive direction. What a relief for the father! And yet, now he is being faced with another challenge; the older son is coming unglued. He’s developing into his own worst enemy. We leave off with the father engaging his son (Luke 15:28-32). Will the older son’s story trend in a negative direction? Or is there a chance that it will eventually trend in a positive direction? We can only hope. We’ll call it a “legitimate” sense of hope. After all, the father is RESPONDING to the son. Previously he was responding to his younger son; now he’s responding to the older son. When a problem surfaces, you respond to it. That’s how the father chooses to operate.
In many ways, he functions like an “ambassador.” We hear Paul using this expression as he writes to the community at Corinth (2nd Cor. 5:20). Ambassadors are called upon so that problems can be resolved. It helps to appreciate that the father represents God in this parable. He may not be the one who creates the problems. But he can be counted upon to respond when problems do in fact materialize. God engages the Exodus problem. And guess what? It’s a problem that gets straightened out. The wayward path of the Prodigal Son? It likewise gets straightened out. As for the older son, it remains an open question. Nevertheless, we can be hopeful. We can be hopeful because this is a particular kind of father: a father who responds.
What a blessing for the son; having a father like that! Furthermore, what a blessing for us! Our story contains a measure of hope—a significant measure of hope. The story referenced earlier features very little in the way of hope. The trending was decidedly negative. For the most part, we can say that God never entered into that story. What about your own story? We know, based on what’s written in the Bible, that God is going well out his way. He’s going well out his way so that he can enter into—and profoundly bless—every aspect of your personal story.
