The Prodigal Son’s Hidden Lesson – A Message for Today!

Metropolitan Joseph, the Romanian Metropolitan of Western and Southern Europe, shares a profound reflection on the Prodigal Son. What does this timeless parable reveal about our modern struggles, repentance, and finding true peace?

Video source: Apostolia TV
Live streaming, Cathedral of Holy Archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael in Paris, Sunday March 3rd, 2024.

Met. Joseph:

Let us remember that our Heavenly Father, God the Father, is the Father of us all, and His love accompanies us every day of our lives—from the moment of our conception until our final breath. And He is the One who receives us when we depart from this world. This alone should be enough to make us realize that He is not a judge; He does not condemn us.

The Father who welcomes back the prodigal son today does not judge him. He does not ask, “Where have you been? What have you done?” For He already knew where His son had wandered, how he had lived, and how he had squandered his material wealth in pursuit of illusions—seeking that which is immaterial in a misguided way. In older Romanian, he was called the “fornicator son,” later “the unrestrained son,” and in our modern translation, “the prodigal son.”

In every case, the term “fornicator” is often understood in a narrow sense, referring only to a life of sexual immorality. But “unrestrained” implies an absence of restraint in all things—food, drink, reckless spending, and bodily indulgence—not just in matters of the flesh, but also in pride and the delusion that one can do for oneself what no one else can. In truth, no one can harm us as profoundly as we harm ourselves, can they? We often say that the greatest harm we suffer is not inflicted by others, but by our own actions.

Being unrestrained means a life without restraint, without limits. That is why the term “unrestrained son” would be appropriate. And yet, “prodigal” fits as well, for he has squandered everything. Think of how we, even today, waste our lives—if we spend our nights from Friday to Sunday in wild revelry, excessive drinking, gluttony, and drug use, indulging in so-called parties where young people abandon themselves to uncontrolled music and heedless behavior.

What happens on Monday morning? How do we wake up? Exhausted. We realize that we have squandered our energy, our health, our rest, our clarity of mind—for we have let it wander unchecked. And so much more. And on Monday morning, we look at ourselves with disgust, or at least with disappointment, and ask: “Is this who I want to be? Is this truly who I am?”

And so, the title “prodigal son” remains fitting. We turn back to the Father—the loving Father, the One who does not judge but welcomes. And He has left us the Divine Liturgy in His Church, the banquet where the fatted calf has been slain, pointing to His Crucified and Slain Son, who offers Himself as nourishment for all who return and are received by the Heavenly Father.

He has given us the forgiveness of sins, for we do not begin our repentance only at confession. Our repentance begins days and even weeks before. The moment we sin, we feel sorrow, we turn back to God. Repentance—”le repentir” in French, or “metanoia” in Greek—means a change of mind, a transformation of the heart. How do we change our minds? By recognizing our wrongdoing, saying, “Forgive me, Lord.” Even if we do not confess it openly, the transformation takes place within us.

Long before we approach the sacrament of confession, our repentance is already at work within us—but only God knows the depths of our hearts. That is why He welcomes the one who comes to Him. We confess our sins, receive absolution, and are invited to the Lord’s banquet—the wedding feast of Christ, which is the Holy and Divine Liturgy.

But what is the danger after we have returned, after we have repented? We may too easily slip into the role of the elder brother, the one who judges. Over time, we may begin to look at others who falter and say, “Lord, how can You receive this person? How can You welcome him or her here? Have I not seen what they have done? Do I not know their past—days ago, weeks ago, years ago? Do I not know their sins?”

And God draws near to our soul and whispers in our hearts: “Are your own sins not enough for you? Will you also take upon yourself the burden of your brother’s sins?” Each one of us is accountable for our own actions. Each one of us is embraced by God—no matter where we have been, no matter what we have done. Whether we are near or far, He seeks us out. At times, He goes after the one who is outside, the one who is not yet within His fold. And how He seeks and finds them—that is His mystery. It is not for us to understand.

The grace we receive when we return as the prodigal son… What did he feel? He realized that his deepest nature, his conscience, couldn’t find true rest except in his Father—in God. For by our very nature, we were made for God, and when we separate ourselves from Him, we find no peace. Look around and understand.

How desperately people search today for rest for their souls—seeking love in every possible way. In youth, we believe that another person will bring us love—the woman for the man, the man for the woman. That is our nature, to seek one another, believing that this is everything. But it is not everything. If this love is not rooted in God, sooner or later it withers, and we no longer know what to do to revive it.

Then we seek fulfillment in wealth, in material things, in knowledge and learning. But knowledge often leads to the pride of knowledge. Then we seek power—power over others, power in the world, the illusion of being something greater than we are. And so it goes. We search for peace for our souls in every possible way, yet we do not find it.

For by our very nature, we are made for the Lord, and we will remain restless, as Blessed Augustine says, until our souls find their rest in God.