There is the father, loving and merciful, the older son, judgmental and testy, and the younger son, thoughtless and hedonistic.

I have been encouraged by many homilists over the years to cast myself in the role appropriate to my own situation and my own behavior, with the goal of gaining insight into the practice of my faith.

In my family right now, however, the pertinent roles are female.

My husband is a loving father to our daughters, but recent family matters concern the women.

Earlier this year, I went to Mass with my sister, and prompted by the presider's homily to cast ourselves in the Gospel drama, we talked in the car afterward.

"I'm afraid I'm the older son," my sister said, which is how I have always characterized myself.

My lifelong struggle with being overly judgmental has yet to be won.

But then my sister said, "I'm the kid who always did the right thing, and I resented it when the kids doing the bad stuff didn't get in trouble!"

When she was younger, she would have enjoyed seeing those misbehaving kids pay.

My heart lurched as I suddenly realized that, thanks to some parental experience with kids doing the bad stuff, I can completely identify with the prodigal son's father.

I understand how relieved and joyful that father was to see his returning son "still a long way off" because I have been there.

There was a dark time in the life of one of my daughters when I dreaded answering a call from an unknown number on my phone.

Dread is too mild a word, actually, because I was deeply afraid that some unwelcome call was going to be the notification that my daughter was dead.

A practicing alcoholic, she was out there, at the world's mercy, her behavior rash and risky, and there was nothing I could do about it.

When the call finally came, it was less-bad news: She was not dead but in jail.

Among other charges, she had assaulted a police officer.

I suspect she survived that encounter with the law because she was a white girl rather than a person of color, a thought that fills me with both gratitude and shame.

I tell this story with my daughter's permission because she is now sober.

She was lost and now, one day at a time, has been found.

Like the father in the story, I have surely celebrated her return from the dead.

I have wanted to put a ring on her finger and sandals on her feet.

I see with the father's eyes.

He was merciful and compassionate, but mostly he was overcome with the relief of not having to bury a beloved child.

I get this in my bones.

But my joy is tempered by the way this hopeful new chapter in my daughter's life has given rise to some resentment among her sisters. Continue reading

• Image: Moses R Eromose

Yet that's basically today's situation, as Francis continues to garner acclaim and admiration from almost every quarter, most recently for a moving Oct. 4 visit to Assisi and for confirming his desire to reach out to divorced and remarried Catholics by announcing a Synod of Bishops in October 2014 dedicated to the family and marriage.

The "almost" in that sentence, however, is important because while Francis remains a smash hit overall, he's also got a budding "older son" problem.

The reference is to the parable of the prodigal son, a template many observers are now applying to Catholic reaction to the new pope. Over his first eight months, Francis basically has killed the fatted calf for the prodigal sons and daughters of the post-modern world, reaching out to gays, women, nonbelievers, and virtually every other constituency inside and outside the church that has felt alienated.

There are an awful lot of such prodigals, of course, which helps explain the pope's massive appeal.

Yet there are also a few Catholics today who feel a bit like the story's older son, wondering if what they've always understood as their loyalty to the church, and to the papacy, is being under-valued.

One can spot at least three such groups:

• Some Vatican personnel who have tried to do their best over the years in service to the successor of Peter and who may feel a bit demoralized hearing the pope describe their work environment as infested with careerism, "Vatican-centrism," and the "leprosy" of a royal court.
• Some pro-life Catholics who feel like they've carried water for the church on controversial and sometimes unpopular issues such as abortion and gay marriage and who now get the sense the pope regards some of their efforts as misplaced or over the top.
• Some evangelical Catholics, both clergy and laity, who've tried to reassert a strong sense of Catholic identity against forces they believe want to play it down, who now feel the pope may be pulling the rug out from under them. Some leaders in the reborn genre of Catholic apologetics, for instance, weren't thrilled recently to hear Francis call proselytism "solemn nonsense." Continue reading

Sources

• John L. Allen Jr in National Catholic Reporter
• Image: The Telegraph

John L. Allen Jr. is NCR senior correspondent.

In the course of her address she quoted Bernard Haring: "At this time the church is the prodigal son. It is taking your treasure — your training, talent, reputation, contribution — and wasting it, feeding it to the pigs. The Spirit of Jesus calls you to be the father in this parable, not rejecting, but welcoming back the prodigal. Do you forgive the church?"

Haring was speaking to Charles Curran at a Eucharist he celebrated with him the day after Curran had an unsatisfactory meeting with Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, then head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. He knew he had failed to convince Ratzinger of his position. The disagreement was bound to engender personal, professional disaster for him.

Mercy Sr. Camille D'Arienzo reflects on these events

Sister Camille is former elementary-school teacher and college professor who for a time served as the president of her community, the Brooklyn, N.Y., region of the Sisters of Mercy of the Americas, and as the president of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious,

Read Sister Camille's Article in National Catholic Reporter

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