Our Prodigal Sons

Today I picked up this month's "People Magazine." The main article features Maureen McCormick, the woman who played Marsha in the Brady Bunch. On top of describing her experiences on the show itself, it focused on events that would be elaborated upon in her new book, "Here's the Story." She described herself as one who struggled with eating disorders and drugs, moving up the ladder to greater strengths of cocaine. Now, clean and happy with her husband and daughter, we see her as a success story. She overcame her obstacles and got her life on the right track.

But I can't help but wonder: why do we call people that have had such struggles successes? Most people never even think to smoke a joint, starve themselves, or other deadly activities. Yet we never say, "what a success, they managed to stay on track." We merely see them as ordinary people, oftentimes boring.

Such stories in our time remind me of one of the oldest, well-known parables in the world. Not to get Biblical, but "The Prodigal Son" is perhaps the best analogy to use when discussing this topic.

For those that do not know the story, here is a rundown:

• Two sons and a father
• Younger son wants to go out in the world. Asks father to give him his inheritance in money (instead of farmland) now instead of later
• Father gives the son his money; son leaves and spends money quickly and carelessly
• Son becomes broke and for a while lives in complete poverty
• Decides to go home, ask his father for forgiveness, willing to become his father's servant if he does not take him back
• The father, seeing his son, embraces him, forgives all, and calls for a feast
  

This story had always troubled me. I loved the father's compassion, but I always felt a sense of injustice for the older brother. He had been hard at work in the fields when he saw his father's servants preparing for a feast. When he finds out it is for his screw-up brother, he is angry (and rightfully so). He had worked devotedly for his father his entire life, and never did he get a feast thrown in his honor. When he expresses his frustrations to his father, he replies:

Son, thou art ever with me, and all that I have is thine. It was meet that we should make merry, and be glad: for this thy brother was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found.

Or, in my words:

Son, I love you and all that I own will be yours. But now we should celebrate, because your brother had lost his way and now he has found it.

For the longest time I had anger over this story. What was the message: it doesn't matter if you try to live a good life because people will care for you even more if you mess things up? It was the same way with today's recovered addicts- we see them with incredible strength, yet it was stupid decisions that got them in their rut in the first place. It made no sense.

In the past year, though, I have seen a new side to the story. We celebrate those who have gotten back on the road after being lost, but this does not mean that they are our role models. Nor does it mean that all is well for them. They have lost so much; just think of the years they can never get back. Even in finding themselves, they have lost so much more.

Our culture celebrates Maureen McCormick's recovery because we want to show them that they changed their ways for a reason. If we did not support them, what would be their motivation to kick their habits? We celebrate because they have returned to a better life, and we want to keep it that way.