One of the sections in Henri Nouwen’s book, The Return of the Prodigal Son, concerns the elder son and his attitude toward the return and repentance of his younger brother. Chief among his various negative attitudes is that of resentment, which has a spiritually paralyzing effect and keeps him from entering his father’s joy. His self-chosen exclusion from the banquet his father gave to celebrate the return of the “lost” son is an analogy of the dreadful power of resentment to exclude people from the Kingdom of Heaven.
Since I have some interest in philology, I like to discover the etymology of word
s and see if that helps us understand better the language we use. To resent literally means to “re-feel.” When we give in to resentment we choose to “re-feel” the anger, hurt, humiliation or whatever negative experiences we have undergone, and thus we keep them alive as a reservoir of bitterness, envy, self-righteousness, or self-pity. Holding a grudge is the same thing. We take some cold comfort in keeping resentment toward someone who has hurt us or let us down somehow, and we continually re-feel the negative emotions to shore up our own wounded pride. In the parable of the workers in the vineyard (Mt. 20:1-16), we find a similar message. The workers who came in at the last hour were rewarded by the vineyard owner exactly as those who had worked all day—so these became filled with resentment and complained to the owner, who then gently reproached them for faulting him with his generosity to others.
After retelling the part of the parable in which the elder son comes in from the field and hears the sounds of celebration in the house—and becoming angry when he finds out what is actually happening—Nouwen concludes: “Joy and resentment cannot coexist. The music and dancing, instead of inviting to joy, become a cause for even greater withdrawal… The experience of not being able to enter into joy is the experience of a resentful heart. The elder son couldn’t enter into the house and share in his father’s joy. His inner complaint paralyzed him and let the darkness engulf him.”
Perhaps it seems obvious that if one is nursing a particular resentment one cannot at the same time be rejoicing. But one can enter into a more or less perpetual state of resentment that blocks the very possibility of joy, and hence makes one continually stand outside the Father’s house, grumbling and rehashing one’s grievances while everyone else is rejoicing in the Father’s love and bounty.
The Lord told the parable of the Prodigal Son not only to offer hope to sinners, but to warn those who consider themselves good to examine their own hearts lest they—instead of the sinners they look down upon—be found forever outside the Kingdom. Nouwen continues: “In response to their complaint, ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them,’ Jesus confronted the Pharisees and scribes not only with the return of the prodigal son, but also with the resentful elder son. It must have come as a shock to these dutiful religious people. They finally had to face their own complaint and choose how they would respond to God’s love for the sinners… It was and still is a real challenge: for them, for me, for every human being who is caught in resentment and tempted to settle on a complaintive way of life.”
As resentment is the enemy of joy, it is also the enemy of gratitude and of trust. “Although we are incapable of liberating ourselves from our frozen anger, we can allow ourselves to be found by God and healed by his love through the concrete and daily practice of trust and gratitude. Trust and gratitude are the disciplines for the conversion of the elder son… Resentment and gratitude cannot coexist, since resentment blocks the perception and experience of life as a gift. My resentment tells me I don’t receive what I deserve… There is always the choice between resentment and gratitude because God has appeared in my darkness, urged me to come home, and declared in a voice filled with affection: ‘You are with me always, and all I have is yours.’ Indeed, I can choose to dwell in the darkness in which I stand, point to those who are seemingly better off than I, lament about the many misfortunes that have plagued me in the past, and thereby wrap myself up in my resentment. But I don’t have to do this. There is the option to look into the eyes of the One who came out to search for me and see therein all that I am and all I have is pure gift calling for gratitude… Both trust and gratitude require the courage to take risks because distrust and resentment, in their need to keep their claim on me, keep warning me how dangerous it is to let go of my careful calculations and guarded predictions.”
If we were to examine ourselves carefully, we would likely finds areas of resentment in our lives that are preventing joy and hindering our ability to be grateful, and preventing even our ability to see the reasons for joy and gratitude that God has placed in our lives. Sometimes I find it hard to be grateful for little things if at the same time big things are going wrong. The bad things “fill my prospect” (as the psalmist says) and so it’s hard to see the good, or at least the good seems to pale into insignificance in comparison to the bad. But gratitude isn’t only something that spontaneously fills us when we recognize some extraordinary blessing. It is a discipline that must be consciously cultivated at all times (“Give thanks in all circumstances”; 1Thess. 5:18). Nouwen writes: “The choice for gratitude [notice: choice, not spontaneous feeling] rarely comes without some real effort. But each time I make it, the next choice is a little easier, a little freer, a little less self-conscious. Because every gift I acknowledge reveals another and another until, finally, even the most normal, obvious, and seemingly mundane event or encounter proves to be filled with grace.”
So the choice is set before us: resentment or joy and gratitude. We can imprison ourselves in a dark dungeon of self-pity, feeding on “sour grapes,” taking perverse satisfaction in our negative assessment of others or even of life as such—or, we can respond to the Father’s invitation to enter his joy and thus live in humble thanksgiving for all the unmerited gifts, great and small, that He grants us in his paternal generosity. The difference is, ultimately, on which side of the gate of Heaven we choose to stand. The Father pleads with us, as to the elder son, to come in, but we are free to nurse our resentments and stand outside. It’s not worth it merely to be “right” about the shortcomings of others and our own personal hurts and thus to justify our “re-feeling” of all negative experiences. Feel them once and forgive; feel them once and let go of them. Leave them behind and join the grateful rejoicing of all those who—through repentance, trust, and divine grace—forever enjoy the glorious liberty of the children of God.
