Homily for reconciliation service ( Ezekiel 36:23-28; Psalms 51: 3-4, 12-15; Luke 15: 1-3, 11-32

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,

Today, as we gather for this reconciliation service, our readings present us with one of the most powerful images in all of Scripture: a Father who never stops seeking reconciliation with His children. In Ezekiel, the Psalms, and especially in Jesus's parable of the Prodigal Son, we witness the breathtaking reality of God's mercy—a mercy that restores, renews, and recreates us.

The prophet Ezekiel speaks to the Israelites in exile, a people who had turned away from God, who had broken the covenant countless times. Yet what does God promise? "I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be clean... A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you." This is not a God who simply forgives reluctantly or with conditions. This is a God who actively transforms us from within, who takes the initiative to restore what was broken.

The Psalmist echoes this cry for inner transformation: "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me." Notice the profound understanding that forgiveness is not just about wiping away guilt—it's about renewal, about becoming a new creation. The Psalmist recognizes that true reconciliation means being restored to joy, being sustained by a willing spirit, and ultimately becoming a witness who teaches others about God's ways.

But it is in the Gospel of Luke that we find what St. Augustine called "the gospel within the Gospel"—the parable of the Prodigal Son. Or perhaps more accurately, the parable of the Prodigal Father, for it is the father's extravagant, seemingly reckless love that stands at the center of this story.

Jesus tells this parable in response to the Pharisees and scribes who were grumbling about his welcome of tax collectors and sinners. They couldn't understand why Jesus would associate with such people. Their vision of God was of a righteous judge who rewards the good and punishes the wicked—not of a father who runs down the road to embrace a son who has squandered his inheritance.

Let us look closely at this father in the parable. His younger son essentially tells him, "I wish you were dead," by demanding his inheritance early. The father gives it to him without protest. When the son returns home destitute, having wasted everything, the father doesn't wait for him to reach the house. He doesn't maintain his dignity as the patriarchal head of the household. No—he runs to meet him. In the cultural context of Jesus's time, this would have been shocking. Dignified men did not run in public. Yet this father hitches up his robes and races down the road.

Before the son can even finish his rehearsed speech of contrition, the father interrupts him with orders for a celebration. The finest robe, a ring for his finger, sandals for his feet, and the fatted calf for a feast. These aren't just gifts—they're symbols of complete restoration to sonship. The robe represents honor, the ring signifies authority, the sandals mark him as a free man rather than a slave, and the fatted calf indicates a celebration for the entire community.

Pope Benedict XVI reflected on this parable, noting that "God is a Father who not only welcomes the son when he returns home, but goes out to look for him. God is always the one who makes the first move in the relationship with us."

This is the heart of what reconciliation means. It's not primarily about what we do to get back into God's good graces. It's about recognizing what God has already done and continues to do to restore us to relationship with Him. As St. Paul tells us, "In Christ, God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them" (2 Cor 5:19).

The elder son in the parable represents another obstacle to reconciliation—not sin itself, but self-righteousness. He cannot celebrate his brother's return because he sees himself as deserving and his brother as undeserving. The father pleads with him too, saying, "All that is mine is yours." The father's heart is large enough for both sons. His love is not diminished by being shared.

In our own lives, we may find ourselves playing all three roles in this parable at different times:

Sometimes we are the younger son—having wandered far from God, perhaps making choices that have hurt ourselves and others, feeling unworthy to return.

Sometimes we are the elder son—resentful of God's mercy to others, calculating our own worthiness based on our obedience, unable to rejoice in reconciliation.

And sometimes, by grace, we reflect the father—extending forgiveness, taking the initiative in reconciliation, celebrating the restoration of relationships.

As we prepare for the Sacrament of Reconciliation today, the Church invites us to consider: Which role am I playing right now? What is keeping me from experiencing the fullness of God's reconciliation?

If you are like the younger son, hear the good news from Ezekiel: God promises, "I will take you from the nations, and gather you from all the countries, and bring you into your own land." No matter how far you have wandered, the path home is always open. The Father is watching the horizon for your return.

If you are like the elder son, trapped in resentment or self-righteousness, hear the father's gentle invitation: "You are always with me, and all that is mine is yours." God's mercy toward others takes nothing away from you. Rather, it reveals the limitless nature of divine love that includes both you and those you might consider unworthy.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church reminds us that "the process of conversion and repentance was described by Jesus in the parable of the prodigal son, the center of which is the merciful father" (CCC 1439). The sacrament we celebrate today is not primarily about our guilt, but about God's mercy. It's not about shame, but about restoration. It's not about punishment, but about healing.

St. John Paul II beautifully expressed this truth: "Confession is an act of honesty and courage—an act of entrusting ourselves, beyond sin, to the mercy of a loving and forgiving God."

As we approach this sacrament today, let us remember the image of the father in the parable—watching, waiting, running toward us with open arms. Let us allow ourselves to be embraced, to be clothed with the robe of dignity, to receive the ring of belonging, to have our feet fitted with the sandals of freedom, and to join in the feast of celebration.

For this is what reconciliation truly means: not just the forgiveness of sins, but the restoration of relationship. Not just pardon, but transformation. Not just absolution, but the gift of "a new heart and a new spirit."

May God, our Prodigal Father, who never tires of forgiving, grant us the grace to receive His mercy and to extend it to others.

Amen.