Today's gospel (Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32)* is the account of the parable of the Prodigal Son. This well known story is familiar to most since it has entered the secular consciousness for a good reason; it tells a good and useful story. Usually, the telling of this story focuses on the lost son who is instantly forgiven by his father after living a dissolute life. His older brother is understandably upset over all the fuss being made over his brother. Hasn't he been the good boy? Hasn't he done his father's bidding without question or thought of reward? Today, I'm feeling much sympathy for the elder brother.
About twenty five years ago, I made a comment to a friend that evidently caused much pain. When I look at both the situation and the statement made, I truly believe I was trying to commiserate with her condition. Perhaps I used the wrong words, but my intention was to offer understanding and comfort. I have apologized several times since we reconnected via facebook and began e-mailing regularly. No fewer than six times in the last few years she has made it known that this caused her pain by including a reference in her e-mails (we live hundred of miles apart and last saw each other shortly after my unintended devastating statement).
I can honestly say, I have been a supportive and caring friend since our electronic re-acquaintance. She has said as much on many occasions. Forward to Thursday last when yet another reference and pointed barb arrived. I am lost for words since "I'm sorry" is obviously insufficient. To be honest, I'm tired of making the constantly rejected apology. If my support and caring is not enough; if my proven friendship is of lesser value because of this ancient unintentional slip of the tongue, I have to wonder if the friendship can or should be continued. Like the elder brother, I've been a "good boy".
Friendships can be like white water rafting. You float along smoothly until your reach the occasional rapids that make for some people's enjoyment (not for me thank you). I feel that in this last e-mail I've been swept off the raft and pulled under. I'm not sure I have the strength to swim to shore in another effort to salvage our e-friendship. I have a feeling that after the father explained things to the elder brother (why he threw a feast upon the return of the prodigal) it no doubt took time for the hurt feelings to subside. After over twenty five years, I don't know the healing words that may work. I haven't returned Thursday's e-mail. I'm not sure I will.
* Link to today's scripture readings
+ Painting: "The Prodigal Son", Edward Riojas
No comments:
Post a Comment