The Apology

Colleen Jurkiewicz Dorman • March 27, 2025
A young man is standing next to an older man.

I like to imagine the Prodigal Son practicing his apology in the mirror.

 

He wouldn’t have, of course. Mirrors weren’t exactly a dime a dozen back then. But I imagine him anyway, rehearsing the words as he contemplates his own gaunt reflection: “Father, I have sinned against God and against you. Treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers.”

 

In other words, I have done wrong. I deserve nothing from you. But please, don’t let me starve. Save me.

 

The apology wasn’t necessary to move the heart of the father. We know that because before they meet, before anything is said, the father is overcome with compassion — not because he got his satisfaction, that long-awaited “I’m sorry, I was wrong.” No, he’s simply overjoyed to see his son alive. Even without apology, we know the father will beg his son to stay.

 

So why does the son apologize?

 

The father doesn’t need the “I’m sorry.” He isn’t starving and lost. He knew all along it was a bad idea. He doesn’t need to learn any lessons.

 

But what a tragedy it would have been, if the son had never said he was sorry. Undoubtedly, his father would have let him stay as a hired worker, and he would have had food to eat. He would have survived. But he wouldn’t have been what he was born to be.

 

I often think of the son’s apology as I am kneeling in the confessional, awkwardly reciting sins God already knows and is eager to forgive. Why are you doing this? some people would ask. God doesn’t need this.

 

It’s the apology, you see. The apology means everything. The Prodigal Son was dead. The apology brought him back to life.

 

God doesn’t need our repentance. We need our repentance.

 

©LPi

Share

You might also like

LPi Blog

Photo of words in the Bible,
By Colleen Jurkiewicz Dorman June 26, 2025
At first, the Apostles try to dodge the question. When Jesus confronts them — and make no mistake, it is a confrontation — with the question “Who do you say that I am?” they act like a man whose wife has just asked him if she looks fat in these jeans. The evasiveness of their answer puts politicians to shame: “Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” Some say. But Jesus doesn’t let them off easy. He repeats himself. He wants an answer. “Who do you say that I am?” They all know the answer. They all believe the answer. And they all know the answer could get them thrown in prison or killed. Only Peter is brave enough to say it: “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God.” People have a lot of opinions about God. They always have. They have a lot of opinions about Jesus and the Bible, about the Catholic Church and the Pope. Some of these opinions are well-founded, well-researched. Some of them are based in ignorance. Many are born of painful misunderstandings. But they are all just that: opinions. Some say. We know who Jesus is. We know who the Eucharist is. We know what the truth is. Amid the chaos and the violence and the excruciating loudness of this fallen world and all the words it shouts into the void about God and Jesus and right and wrong, we know . But will we answer? ©LPi
A collage of images from WeCreate
June 25, 2025
This guide highlights how WeCreate can support some of the most common parish ministries found in churches across the country.
A stained glass window shows Jesus feeding the 500.
By Colleen Jurkiewicz Dorman June 19, 2025
It isn’t uncommon for me to get to the noon hour only to realize that I haven’t yet eaten anything that day.
More Posts