“So that’s the story. I’m going to be a battered soul on a voyage of discovery. I’m going to be a small-town pastor, if they’ll have me. I’m going to work at my family’s hardware store.” He laughed. “I may even do my bit to help the Mayfield Wildcats go to State again—”
“Go Wildcats!” someone in the crowd shouted, and the media actually laughed.
“So I guess what I’m saying is this: If there ever was one, there is no story here anymore. Go home to your lives. Go home to your families. Go home.” He raised his hands in blessing—and he meant it. “And may God go with you.”
He lowered his hands, nodded. He was done.
Dennis stepped in front of him to make a path, but it wasn’t necessary. The reporters and camera operators and sound technicians began to step aside. Voluntarily, even.
Some of them held out their hands to shake Jack’s.
Some of them said, “Thank you,” or “Good luck,” or even “God bless you.”
Some of them simply nodded as he passed.
Dennis walked with Jack all the way back to the car. He held out his hand when they got there.
“You’re a wonder, Twelve,” he said, shaking him like a maraca. “So. I guess—thanks for staying.”
“You’re gonna owe me some ribs for that,” Jack said, gratefully freeing his hand. “This weekend would not be too soon.”
He got ready to get into the car, but he noticed that Kathy had trailed them down the street, and he stepped back out, leaned across the roof.
“Did I give you the story you wanted, Ms. Branstetter?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Are you going back to the Post now?”
She took a breath, considered, shrugged.
“I think I might just hang around for a while,” she said. “See what happens. You know: ‘Better the battered soul on a voyage of discovery’ and all that.” She shook her head. “Vintage Father Frank.”
“Vintage,” he said. “So. I’ll see you around?”
She nodded. “I’m sure you will.”
Jack got into his father’s car, started it, turned on the radio. During the day it got nothing but static. They had no FM stations worth hearing out here, just some AM and not much of that. The music got lost in the hills and valleys, bounced away off the limestone and the water. But at night they pulled in Mexican radio, talk shows from the West Coast, and AM classic rock from Chicago.
Mayfield, Texas, was nowhere.
And it was the center of the universe.
Wherever it was, Jack decided as he drove off to see his father, Mayfield, Texas, was plenty of world for him now.
20.
Alison ran off the plane and into Jack’s arms just like she had in his dreams.
On Friday evening, before dinner, Dennis took them all on a ride. Alison had never been on a horse before, and Jack knew after only minutes on the trail that she was smitten. She promised to send Lady letters from Boston, and Dennis promised to read them to the horse. Jack thought he actually would.
They visited Tom in the hospital on Saturday morning on the way to San Antonio, and he seemed weak but much recovered. He joked with Alison, and they colored Barbie coloring books together for a solid hour, comparing colors and outfits.
“You’ve got an eye for fashion, Dad,” Mary told him.
“Second career,” he said, without looking up from his work. “I think I’ve given everything to hardware I know how.”
Tom had taken the news that Jack was staying in Mayfield without fanfare, almost as though he’d anticipated it all along. “I’m glad,” was all he said.
He did not say whether he had seen Jack announce it on TV, but everyone pretty much figured that he had.
Now as Jack watched his father playing with his daughter, as he saw his sister sitting by the hospital bed, he began to imagine the future.
The elders of Saint Paul’s had met on Thursday night and voted unanimously to call Jack as their minister. Salary: five hundred dollars a year.
“That seems … ample,” he had told Bill, who had called the hospital to report the vote.
He would make it work. Jack had held a job at the Buy-n-Buy in high school to subsidize his paper route. Now he would just work in the hardware store to subsidize his preaching.
Mayfield would not let him starve.
He had started writing again, in secret for the moment, although it wouldn’t be secret for long. He had already told Sheila what he was working on, and she agreed it was what people needed to hear now.
“What are you calling it?” she asked him, as excited as he had heard her in a long while.
He had given this some thought, and he thought he knew exactly what the title would be.
“Beggars at the Door of God’s Mercy,” he told her.
It seemed only fitting, somehow.
And although this was months away and much could change, in his head, Jack was already making plans for a journey.
When Tom was fully recovered and Alison’s spring break came around, he wanted them all to go to Florida—Tom, Jack, Mary and Dennis, Alison. Tracy had already given her consent. In fact, once she discovered that Jack didn’t intend to fight her on the divorce, she became surprisingly generous about visitation.
They would get a place on the beach at Destin, some little mom-and-pop motel like where they used to go when Jack and Mary and Martha were children, and they would set up chairs and umbrellas on the beach and stay out all day.
Dennis would grill seven different kinds of meats. Mary would sit under an umbrella, protecting her fair skin, and read mysteries instead of tax codes for a change. Alison would build sand castles, do a fashion show of brightly colored bathing suits, play chase with the waves, flee happily from the gulls.
And Jack—
Jack would walk with Tom across the warm white sands to the water’s edge, take him by the hand, ease him into the surf, hold his father upright as the waves crashed against them.
His father had always loved the beach.
And he would see it with his family, if only just one more time.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
1. Jack Chisholm is described early in The Prodigal as “the people’s pastor.” What does that title mean to the media in The Prodigal? What do you think it ought to mean?
2. The Prodigal is a contemporary retelling of the parable of the Prodigal Son, a powerful archetypal story that Jesus tells in Luke 15:11–32. Can you think of other contemporary stories that retell the Prodigal Son or recent events in the media that echo the story? Why do you think the Prodigal Son story resonates so powerfully?
3. Jack comes back to the small Texas town where he grew up after living for fifteen years in Seattle, Washington. What do you think would be the biggest challenges for someone making this shift? What are Jack’s big challenges? Do you think the saying “You can’t go home again” is true? Why or why not?
4. One of the major themes of The Prodigal is that we live in a celebrity culture with instant access to news and culture through both traditional and new media. What are the positive things about that reality? What are the elements of that culture that disturb you most? How do you see celebrity culture explored in the events of The Prodigal?
5. Our family of origin is often the most potent influence on the people we become. In what ways does Jack’s family history shape him as a pastor and as a person? How does The Prodigal offer hope that we need not always be stuck in the dynamics of our family of origin?
6. The news seems to offer up some scandal daily, perpetrated by someone in the public eye. In what ways do Jack’s disgrace and the way he handles it seem typical of what you observe in the news? Does Jack’s behavior throughout the novel offer any insight into how public figures should and should not respond when they are caught in a scandal?
7. The Prodigal features stories about both longtime friends and enemies with whom Jack has to interact. Are there people in your life whom, try as you might, you cannot w
in over? Are there friends with whom you have lost touch? What does The Prodigal suggest about how relationships grow and change?
8. Jack’s church in Seattle, Grace Cathedral, does good work in the world, and it offers encouragement and solace to thousands of worshipers. It also seems to operate a lot like a big business with Jack as its charismatic CEO. In what ways is this bigger-is-better megachurch a good thing? Are there ways you see this model falling short of what you imagine church to be? Why does Jack feel that he has discovered a more authentic experience while preaching in the tiny church in which he grew up?
9. The character of Father Frank is based upon Brennan Manning. Did you recognize any of Brennan’s teachings in Frank’s dialogue or actions? How do you imagine your life might be changed if Brennan were your pastor—or your friend? What challenges do you think you would face in that relationship? How does the relationship between Jack and Father Frank develop throughout the course of the novel?
10. Brennan Manning wanted to leave behind a novel about grace, his most enduring theme, and this book is the result of that desire. How do you define grace? In what ways do you see The Prodigal exploring the theme of grace? Has the novel made you think about anything differently as a result of reading it? If you discussed it with someone else, what topics would you want to talk about?
11. Brennan Manning wrote in The Ragamuffin Gospel that the Prodigal had mixed motives when he came home, and coauthor Greg Garrett said, “I’ve always wondered what happened to the Prodigal after he returned.” How does Jack change as a result of the events of The Prodigal? What does he learn about God, community, and being a pastor? What do you imagine will happen to Jack and the characters of The Prodigal next? Would you like to read more stories about Jack?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Brennan and Greg gratefully acknowledge Rick Christian and Andrea Heinecke at Alive Communications for bringing them together on this project, and for their support and enthusiasm across the years. Editor Natalie Hanemann worked wonders on this story, and the editorial and promotional professionals at HarperCollins, including Daisy Hutton, Amanda Bostic, and Ruthie Dean, have been a joy to work with.
Greg wishes to thank Hulitt Gloer for the use of the cabin on Turtle Creek, outside of Kerrville, Texas, where he did almost all of his writing on this book, and Baylor University, the Episcopal Seminary of the Southwest, and Gladstone’s Library for supporting the planning and writing of this novel with time, space, and resources. Most of all, he wishes to thank Richard Francis Xavier Manning for bringing a message of love and forgiveness that washes over us like the waves. Rest in peace, beloved ragamuffin.
Into your hands, O Lord, we humbly entrust our brother Brennan. In this life you embraced him with your tender love; deliver him now from every evil and bid him enter eternal rest. The old order has passed away: welcome him, then, into paradise, where there will be no sorrow, no weeping or pain, but the fullness of peace and joy with your Son and the Holy Spirit forever and ever. Amen.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Brennan Manning was a Roman Catholic priest, a lifelong seeker of wisdom, a world traveler, a sojourner among the poor, and a sinner forgiven by a gracious God. For fifty years, Brennan offered the message that God loves us without condition or reservation, loves us as we are and not as we think we should be. It is a message of grace and forgiveness that has helped reconcile many to God, and a message that he lived out for the whole world to see, with courage and conviction, warts and all. A renowned speaker, preacher, and retreat leader, Brennan authored or coauthored twenty books, among them his memoir All Is Grace, The Furious Longing of God, Abba’s Child, and the million-selling and life-changing book The Ragamuffin Gospel. He went to rest in the loving arms of his Abba on April 12, 2013, but his voice still echoes in the hearts and minds of his readers.
Greg Garrett is the author or coauthor of over fifteen books of fiction, nonfiction, and memoir, including The Other Jesus, We Get to Carry Each Other: The Gospel according to U2, and the acclaimed novels Free Bird, Cycling, and Shame. A frequent speaker and media guest, he is—according to BBC Scotland—one of America’s leading voices on religion and culture. Greg serves as Professor of English at Baylor University, Writer in Residence at the Episcopal Seminary of the Southwest, Residential Scholar at Gladstone’s Library in Wales, and as a licensed lay preacher in the Episcopal Church. He lives with his family in Austin, Texas.
ADVANCE ACCLAIM FOR
THE PRODIGAL
“For all of us who have had our fill of guilt, religious performance pressure, hypocrisy, and shame, The Prodigal reads like a needed vacation for your soul. Emotional Impact Warning: you’ll need a box of tissues nearby as you read.”
—BRIAN D. MCLAREN, AUTHOR/
SPEAKER/ACTIVIST, BRIANMCLAREN.NET
“Brennan Manning’s last work continues the powerful message of grace and forgiveness that has transformed so many lives. The Prodigal will transform you too.”
—MARK BATTERSON, NEW YORK TIMES
BEST-SELLING AUTHOR OF THE CIRCLE MAKER
“Finding out what kind of person you are and finding out what kind of God you believe in are uncomfortably interlinked. This vivid and often moving novel explores some of those links, not offering glib happy endings but a sense of truthfulness painfully achieved and love and grace painfully absorbed. For anyone who hopes one day to be a grown-up Christian.”
—DR. ROWAN WILLIAMS, RETIRED
ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY
“Fr. Brannon Manning did not live quite long enough to see the publication of The Prodigal, his last novel. But he did live long enough to work with Greg Garrett in creating it. Colorful. Well-written. Engrossing. Totally engaging. The Prodigal is all these things and several more that I can think of. But it is also more than any of them. Fr. Manning will no longer write such stories for us, of course, but what he and Garrett have created in this one is the consummate final tale. What they have created is the Ragamuffin at his best, full of hope, full of love, and finally, full of belief in the goodness of God.”
—PHYLLIS TICKLE, FOUNDING EDITOR,
RELIGION DEPARTMENT, PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
“This story contains all the elements of true beauty … pain, loss, sin, and regret, yet overshadowing every bitter tear there is love, forgiveness, and grace. You will find yourself in these pages, in things you admire and things you detest, but more than that, you will be reminded of a Father who stands with arms wide open for every prodigal who would turn their heart toward home.”
—SHEILA WALSH, AUTHOR
OF THE STORM INSIDE
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
by Greg Garrett
I wish Brennan Manning had crossed my path a long, long time ago.
And I wish he were still alive to cross my path now.
I was raised by loving parents in a legalistic and not particularly grace-blessed corner of the Church. Although there were many good people, a lot of great music, and a ton of great food in our tradition, what I absorbed from worship more than anything else was my own worthlessness. If God loved me—and the songs said he did—the preaching and teaching Sunday after Sunday didn’t indicate it. In fact, if you paid attention to the preacher—and I did—God seemed to be angry with us, really angry, and nothing I did would ever measure up to his notice.
As a sensitive and already guilty soul, I took on that worthlessness down to my very marrow. How could God—or anybody—love me, flawed and broken as I was?
I fled that church, fled the tradition, fled Christianity itself, and might have stayed fled forever if I hadn’t been rescued by another church decades down the road at the lowest point of my life.
Brennan Manning could have saved me from some of that. In the face of a contemporary American Christianity that argues that human beings have to earn their way to God, Brennan offered the necessary correctives that we are pursued irresistibly by the One who created us, that fail as we might (and do, daily), we are offered forgiveness, that no one can ever
sin so badly as to remove him- or herself from the love of God. He also offered the example of his own story, of his life as a Roman Catholic priest who left the priesthood to marry, of his struggles with alcohol, and of his firsthand knowledge of suffering, sin, and redemption.
I didn’t discover Brennan’s work until after I’d finally returned to the faith, but when I found his message of love, grace, and forgiveness, when I discovered that this inspiring writer and storyteller was an imperfect and damaged soul just like me, just like all of us, I felt that I was discovering a friend and kindred soul.
I fell in love with Brennan Manning, with his honesty, with his gentle spirit.
And again, I wished that I had encountered him long before, that I had somehow heard his message that God loved me—messed up as I was and am—beyond reckoning.
As he neared the end of his life, Brennan wanted to write a novel that would dramatically illustrate the things he had spent his life teaching and doing: grace, love, forgiveness, faith, service.
It was no surprise that he would want to utilize the story format for his last work despite a lifetime of preaching, writing, and blessing others. In The Ragamuffin Gospel, Brennan used examples from great novels like The Moviegoer and The Brothers Karamazov, and I remembered he explicitly argued that stories, poems, and music might be the most powerful ways we understand and experience love, grace, and forgiveness:
If God is not in the whirlwind, He may be in a Woody Allen film or a Bruce Springsteen concert. Most people understand imagery and symbol better than doctrines and dogma. One theologian suggested that Springsteen’s Tunnel of Love album, in which he symbolically sings of sin, death, despair, and redemption, is more important for Catholics than the Pope’s last visit when he spoke of morality only in doctrinal propositions. Troubadours have always been more important and influential than theologians and bishops.1
The Prodigal: A Ragamuffin Story Page 24