He was kneeling on both knees but every muscle in his legs were taut. His arms strained upwards to the sky. His spine arched backwards in a c curve. He was clearly reaching out in angst to plead with God.
I was startled when I read the title of the black marble carving of a young man/teenage boy: “The Prodigal Son” by Auguste Rodin (Legion of Honor, San Francisco). Of course, I thought. Of course. But what a different perspective. Usually, I think of the wayward son falling on his knees and apologizing to his Dad, “Dad, I squandered my inheritance. I blew through my trust fund. I wasted it all. Will you ever forgive me? I’m broke. And broken. Could I just get a job on the farm mucking out the stalls?”
But Rodin has a different take. Here the son apologizes not to Dad but to God. “God forgive me. I’m so sorry” the black marble sculpture shouts. Today we see broken relationships between the far right political camps and the far left. How can we understand one another? We experience fractures in our own families that unfold through divorce, through addictions, through mental health challenges, and generational divides. Even when all seems to be well, we know that we often bruise the feelings of those we love through words spoken or unspoken. Is the issue interpersonal or spiritual? Where does healing begin?
I John 4 challenges us:
“Those who say, “I love God,” and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters.” Rodin was an artist, not a theologian. But I think he captures the essence of spiritual healing. To come home to God is to come home to one another.
Grace and peace,
Carla
