Aga kui ta alles kaugel oli, nägi isa teda ja tal hakkas hale ning ta jooksis ja langes poja kaela ja andis talle suud. Aga poeg ütles isale: "Isa, ma olen pattu teinud taeva vastu ja sinu ees, ma ei ole enam väärt, et mind su pojaks hüütaks!" Ent isa ütles oma sulastele: "Tooge kiiresti kõige kallim kuub ja pange talle selga ja andke talle sõrmus sõrme ja jalatsid jalga ja tooge nuumvasikas, tapke see ja söögem ning olgem rõõmsad, sest see mu poeg oli surnud, ja on jälle saanud elavaks, ta oli kadunud, ja on leitud!" Ja nad hakkasid rõõmsasti pidutsema. Lk 15:20, 24
"But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and took pity on him; running up, he threw his arms around his neck and kissed him." That's what the sacred text says: he covered him with kisses. Can you put it more humanly than that? Can you describe more graphically the paternal love of God for men?
When God runs toward us, we cannot keep silent, but with St Paul we exclaim: Abba, Pater: "Father, my Father!", for, though he is the creator of the universe, he doesn't mind our not using high-sounding titles, nor worry about our not acknowledging his greatness. He wants us to call him Father; he wants us to savour that word, our souls filling with joy.
Human life is in some way a constant returning to our Father's house. We return through contrition, through the conversion of heart which means a desire to change, a firm decision to improve our life and which, therefore, is expressed in sacrifice and self-giving. We return to our Father's house by means of that sacrament of pardon in which, by confessing our sins, we put on Jesus Christ again and become his brothers, members of God's family.
God is waiting for us, like the father in the parable, with open arms, even though we don't deserve it. It doesn't matter how great our debt is. Just like the prodigal son, all we have to do is open our heart, to be homesick for our Father's house, to wonder at and rejoice in the gift which God makes us of being able to call ourselves his children, of really being his children, even though our response to him has been so poor (Christ is Passing By, 64).
For a Christian, joy is a treasure. Only by offending God do we lose it, because sin is the fruit of selfishness, and selfishness is the root of sadness. Even then, a bit of joy survives under the debris of our soul: the knowledge that neither God nor his Mother can ever forget us. If we repent, if an act of sorrow springs from our heart, if we purify ourselves in the holy sacrament of penance, God comes out to meet and forgive us. Then there can be no sadness whatsoever. Then there is every right "to rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come back to life, was lost and has been found."
These words are taken from the marvellous ending of the parable of the prodigal son, which we shall never tire of meditating (Christ is Passing By, 178).
"But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and took pity on him; running up, he threw his arms around his neck and kissed him." That's what the sacred text says: he covered him with kisses. Can you put it more humanly than that? Can you describe more graphically the paternal love of God for men?When God runs toward us, we cannot keep silent, but with St Paul we exclaim: Abba, Pater: "Father, my Father!", for, though he is the creator of the universe, he doesn't mind our not using high-sounding titles, nor worry about our not acknowledging his greatness. He wants us to call him Father; he wants us to savour that word, our souls filling with joy.
Human life is in some way a constant returning to our Father's house. We return through contrition, through the conversion of heart which means a desire to change, a firm decision to improve our life and which, therefore, is expressed in sacrifice and self-giving. We return to our Father's house by means of that sacrament of pardon in which, by confessing our sins, we put on Jesus Christ again and become his brothers, members of God's family.
God is waiting for us, like the father in the parable, with open arms, even though we don't deserve it. It doesn't matter how great our debt is. Just like the prodigal son, all we have to do is open our heart, to be homesick for our Father's house, to wonder at and rejoice in the gift which God makes us of being able to call ourselves his children, of really being his children, even though our response to him has been so poor (Christ is Passing By, 64).
For a Christian, joy is a treasure. Only by offending God do we lose it, because sin is the fruit of selfishness, and selfishness is the root of sadness. Even then, a bit of joy survives under the debris of our soul: the knowledge that neither God nor his Mother can ever forget us. If we repent, if an act of sorrow springs from our heart, if we purify ourselves in the holy sacrament of penance, God comes out to meet and forgive us. Then there can be no sadness whatsoever. Then there is every right "to rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come back to life, was lost and has been found."
These words are taken from the marvellous ending of the parable of the prodigal son, which we shall never tire of meditating (Christ is Passing By, 178).