Prodigal Marty, Prodigal Me

There will be many people at Marty's funeral who are recovering addicts in one form or another.  Based on what I know, Marty would not be included in that number.  And neither would my father have been.  So...as someone with first-hand knowledge of dealing with the death of an UNrecovered addict, perhaps I have a useful perspective.

Marty's older sister mentioned him in connection with the parable of the Prodigal Son.  I smiled to myself when she said it on the phone, as this is one of my favorite scripture passages to debate.  Having heard many homilies on this Gospel, I have yet to meet the clergyperson who has the same take on it as I do.  And my version is certainly something that comes into play as a survivor of "unrecovered-addict grief".

First, a definition:

Definition of PRODIGAL

1: characterized by profuse or wasteful expenditure : lavish prodigal feast> <prodigal outlays for her clothes>

2: recklessly spendthrift prodigal prince>

3: yielding abundantly : luxuriant —often used with of prodigal of her bounty — H. T. Buckle>

Examples of PRODIGAL

1. prodigal child always spent her allowance the minute she got it>

Origin of PRODIGAL

Latin prodigus, from prodigere to drive away, squander, from pro-, prod- forth + agere to drive — more at pro-, agent

First Known Use: 15th century

 

Even casual Scripture readers are familiar with the parable of the Prodigal Son.  Found in Luke's Gospel, chapter 15, verses 11 through 32, this parable details the story of a man with two sons.  The younger son comes to him and asks for what will be his share of the inheritance.  The father divides his property and gives half to this son, who then proceeds to leave the country and live a life of "loose living".  Until the money runs out.  Hiring himself out as a pig herder, his condition worsens.  He "came to himself" and realized that his father's workers were far better off than he was, so he rehearsed an apology and took himself home.

Certainly, this son fits the definition of "prodigal".  He is profusely wasteful and recklessly spendthrift.  In a short period of time, he took what he had been given and partied it all away.

Yet, when his father saw him coming home, he "had compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him."  The son no sooner blurted out his apology: "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son" when the father called for a party to be held in his honor.

This prodigal...this party-er...this "profusely wasteful and recklessly spendthrift" son cannot but evoke images of Marty.  Marty - whom everyone loved because he was always the life of the party.  Marty - who was involved in a food fight at my daughter's wedding that somehow became one of the highlights of the day for me.  Marty - who never had a dime, but when he did, spent it on enjoying life...however he defined enjoyment, no matter who disapproved or no matter the consequences.

Marty, the Prodigal.

But - as the infomercials always say - "wait; there's more!"

Remember that Luke is careful to mention that the partying son in this story is the second son.  Which means, of course, that there also has to be a first son.  The first son comes home in the midst of the party and "was angry and refused to go in."  The father also goes out to the first son, trying to encourage him to rejoice in the return of his brother.  But his response was: "Lo, these many years I have served you, and have never disobeyed your command; yet you never gave me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends.  But when this son of yours came, who has devoured your living with harlots, you killed for him the fatted calf."

I submit that the first son is also a prodigal son.  From the Latin origin of the word the first son "drove away" his father and brother, and "squandered" his father's love by never realizing that he had it all along.

And which is the worse sin: to squander my father's "stuff", or to squander his love?  Given that context, I believe it is difficult for any of us not be be defined as prodigal.  Certainly I am prodigal - when I am judgmental about another person...when I feel superior because my choices were more sober than theirs...when I drive them away with anger.

As I said, my father never recovered from his alcoholism.  When I knew that I was pregnant the first time, I told him he would never be allowed to see my children when he was drunk.  And somehow, he managed to always remain sober around them.  If this isn't the surest sign that the father he wanted to be - but couldn't - loved me, I don't know what is.


And Marty...Marty called me out of the blue on my 60th birthday and sang "Sto Lat".  I know that Marty blew his - and everyone else's money.  I know that he lived life high.  But somewhere in there was the Marty I grew up with.  Here's something about Marty that no one knows: when my father's drunkenness was the "elephant in the living room" at Babcia's house on Sundays, and I threw up my emotional wall, because I was a kid and didn't know what else to do, it was Marty who took me by the hand and lead me out of the room and distracted me until I felt better.


Marty - we are both prodigal, you and I.  And I hope you never let me forget it!