Entry Sixty-Seven: Isaiah 57:17-19
It is a clear, crisp day today…not a cloud in the sky and no wind to whip up dust and send it barrelling down the road. I am in the marketplace, helping Levi and his family set up a stall. We are all there, even my servants, doing whatever we can. Suddenly, I hear Elizabeth suck in her breath. I look up and follow her gaze. Down the road, a long way off, I see him. To many he appears to be just another beggar, but I recognise my son immediately. I drop what I am doing and run. Yes, I run. No self-respecting Jewish man would run…but self-respect had nothing to do with it. This is love.
My servants and my friends run behind me…it is a mad, happy, disorderly dash. “Rejoice!” I shout at them. “May the very angels of God rejoice today!” I fall on his neck and kiss him repeatedly. He falls to his knees and begins to speak. “Father I have sinned against God and against you. Do not call me son, as I not worthy of that title.” I hear his words, but I choose to listen rather to my heart. “Quickly…quickly!” I tell the servants. “Get him cleaned up…that robe of mine that I only wear on special occasions…bring it for him to wear. And you! That fatted calf…run, slaughter it and dress it. Tonight we celebrate! My dear son was dead…dead to so many…but now…now he is alive! Alive, I tell you! I forgive him…and I accept him…and I reinstate him!” I glare at those around me. “He is alive! Not dead!” I shout.
There is music…there is laughter, such as has not been for a long time in our home. Our friends are all present. But where is Aaron? Where is my other son? The servants tell me he is standing outside, refusing to come in. I leave the celebration…yes, of course, it ought not to be so…I am the father, he the son. But for my son, I will humble myself once more and go to bring him in. I am not prepared to lose him because I have found the other.
But have I lost him already? Esau embraced his brother…even though he once hated him. When Jacob returned, Esau welcomed him home. But Aaron spits. “That useless degenerate son of yours who squandered our inheritance on loose living, has only come to bargain for more. He lost it all…now he wants more…he wants mine. Am I Esau that must return from the field only to find my materialistically insatiable brother has stolen my blessing?” Aaron speaks bitterly. He refuses to come in and be reconciled with his brother. I reason with him. “All of this…” I show the house and the lands with my arms. “All of this is yours. What I once had was divided between you, remember? This is yours.” I turn to him and try to take his hand. He recoils from me as one would from a snake about to strike. “Aaron, your brother was dead…dead in his sins and iniquities…you and our community declared him dead. And for his sinful greed, I too was angry. But he has returned…he has returned, and I have received him.” Aaron is about to object, but I cut him off before he can say one word. “No! No, he did not deserve mercy and grace…but I have given it…I have deliberately, and mercifully, and graciously chosen to give it freely. I have done what I believe the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob does with all of his children, wayward or otherwise. He would meet out solace to them…He would speak comforting words…He would say, ‘It is well for both the far and the near.’ Both…the far and the near. Now, it is right to rejoice because we have robbed him from the grave. He, too is a son of the promise!”
Aaron’s face darkens. His eyes narrow to mere slits. “You eat with that sinner…I will not defile myself.” That is his reply before he turns away and walks into the night.
I feel a familiar flutter in my heart. Tears fall, thick and wet. Oh Aaron…Aaron…how I would gather you into my arms…gather you like a hen gathers her chicks…but you will not.
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