A Prodigal
A Prodigal
by Elizabeth Bishop
The brown enormous odour he lived by
was too close, with its breathing and thick hair,
for him to judge. The floor was rotten; the sty
was plastered halfway up with glass-smooth dung.
Light-lashed, self-righteous, above moving snouts,
the pigs' eyes followed him, a cheerful stare—
even to the sow that always ate her young—
till, sickening, he leaned to scratch her head.
But sometimes mornings after drinking bouts
(he hid the pints behind the two-by-fours),
the sunrise glazed the barnyard mud with red
the burning puddles seemed to reassure.
And then he thought he almost might endure
his exile yet another year or more.
But evenings the first star came to warn.
The farmer whom he worked for came at dark
to shut the cows and horses in the barn
beneath their overhanging clouds of hay,
with pitchforks, faint forked lightnings, catching light,
safe and companionable as in the Ark.
The pigs stuck out their little feet and snored.
The lantern—like the sun, going away—
laid on the mud a pacing aureole.
Carrying a bucket along a slimy board,
he felt the bats' uncertain staggering flight,
his shuddering insights, beyond his control,
touching him. But it took him a long time
finally to make up his mind to go home.
The poet finds the prodigal son living a hellish existence looking after pigs in a sty. His life is filthy and obscene without his relationship with his Father. He drinks. He lives amongst the dung. The metaphor of the parable is obvious in the images painted so vividly by Elisabeth Bishop. She was an American poet and 'Teh Prodigal' was published in 1955.
In the second stanza, there is light in the darkness, a star and then the diminishing glow of a lantern in the mud, and we see his will to return home slowly dawn upon him. The poet has focussed tightly on the sty, and in doing so reveals how awful life is without God.
It is as if a stubborn independence stops us from returning to our father when we, like the prodigal son, leave our faith behind for whatever reason. Many can relate to this. Our self-esteem is also in the mud, and we may feel that we deserve a life made so much harder without faith.
Life is infinitely better when we return to our Father God and, like the father in the story, we will be welcomed with open arms.
Consider your children. Of course you would celebrate if one of them returned after a time of suffering away from home. I can barely contemplate the overwhelming joy the father in the parable experiences. This immense and unconditional love is how God feels about us.
Come home.
Today's Readings: Joshua 5:9-12 Psalm 33(34) 2 Corinthians 5:17-21 Luke 15:1-3,11-32
Source: Fourth Sunday of Lent
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