When we consider the parable of the
Prodigal Son, we are invited to remember the prodigality, which the Lord shows
in His love for us. We are used to
considering the example of the Prodigal Son as a paradigm of human sinfulness,
but naturally we can see in this figure as well a shadow of the One “Who became
sin for our sake.” Just as we see the Prodigal Son go into the sinful land of
the “far country,” so too does the Only-Begotten Son of God descend to us in
the “far country” of our sinful nature. He, by means of an infinite
condescension becomes man for us, and walks among us as one of us. He lives an
earthly life among us, both before and after His resurrection from the dead, in
which He travels from place to place and teaches us precepts of salvation. He
Who cannot experience death in His Divine Nature willingly enters into
suffering and death in His human nature, so that He can destroy Death from
within and reveal the resurrection.
Last Sunday, in connection with the parable of the Pharisee and the
Publican, we considered the symbolism of the iconostas, the fundamental
division of Creation itself into the material and spiritual worlds. We noted at the time the constant
communication between these two worlds, which, though different, nevertheless constitute
one single Creation. The iconostas has doors through which there is frequent
movement from one side of the barrier to the other.
Today, in the parable of the Prodigal Son, we see the greatest example
of that communication and union between the material and spiritual worlds, for
the Son of God descends into our far country, our fallen world, in order to
prodigally spend all of His grace (that is His Life) on us sinners. This Divine Visitation, which is our
salvation, was long expected by the Patriarchs and the Prophets, who prayed
ceaselessly that the time of that Visitation be hastened. The Prophet Isaiah, for example, cries out:
“Let the heavens open, and let the clouds rain down the Just One, may the earth
be engendered, and may she bud forth a Saviour (45:8).” Nevertheless, for
millennia, the heavens remained closed, the life-giving rain was not sent
forth, as God awaited the proper time to fulfill His promises.
In just the same way, according to the ustav, when we begin the Divine
Liturgy, the doors of the iconostas remain closed, and our responses to the
litany (Lord, have mercy) represent the prayers and supplications offered by
the Patriarchs and Prophets who awaited their salvation with great longing and
expectation. We are able to join our prayers to theirs, because, in the same
way, we long for our individual experience of salvation to be manifest to us.
We proclaim His birth and His coming among us in the hymn “Only-Begotten
Son,” but His presence remains hidden from our eyes, just as the Christ
remained hidden even to His own people Israel for the space of three
decades. Finally, at the beginning of the Third Antiphon of the Divine Liturgy,
the doors of the iconostas are opened for the Little Entrance. It is then that we behold in a mystical
fashion the Son of God coming to our “far country” to teach us the way of
salvation contained in the Divine Gospel.
The Gospel tells us that He went all around Galilee
preaching and teaching in the synagogues, curing diseases and casting out
demons. At the beginning of the Little Entrance, after opening the Royal Doors,
the priest makes three bows before the Gospel Book, as a reminder of the
threefold great degradation into which human beings had fallen: death, pain and
disease (both spiritual and physical), and slavery to the demons. The Little
Entrance of the Divine Liturgy is the sign of that great mystery that Christ
came among us in order to spend His grace upon us, to free us and to lift us
up.
In the procession of the Little Entrance, the Gospel Book is led by the
light of a candle or oil lamp, recalling the prophetic ministry of St. John the
Forerunner and Baptist. The Lord Jesus
Himself says of St. John the Baptist in the
Gospel According to St. John :
“He was a bright and shining lamp, and you rejoiced for a while to live in his
light.” The same Gospel, however, also says of John: “He himself was not the
Light, but he was sent to bear witness to the Light.”
The Little Entrance of the Divine Liturgy, the sign of that journey of
mercy, which the Son of God took in order to visit us in our “far country” is a
challenge for us. We live in an age in
which the great majority of people have ceased to ask or be interested in the
great questions of human life: “What is the meaning of this life and of this
Creation?” Our world has abandoned the love of Wisdom, and has left us only
with a concern for feathering our own nests in a quest for “quality of life.” How
far we have traveled in our “far country” from the God Who comes to us in our
sinful world to “seek and to save what was lost.” That is, after all, the way
that He Himself defines His mission: “The Son of Man has come to seek and to
save what was lost.” If we are seriously and deeply committed to following
Christ, then that ought to be our mission too. We need to seek and recover the
love of Wisdom, which we lost when we decided to go into our “far country.”
“Feathering our nests” is an impossibility for us, because Christ did not live
for Himself. Neither, then, can we.
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