I find it hard to ask for directions when I get lost. There must be something that gets locked into male consciousness at an early stage of development that makes us unable to stop the car when we are not sure where we have gotten to and ask a stranger for help. "No, I'm sure if I just go up the road and take a right, we will be right where we're supposed to be," I say to the shaking heads of my companions.

We get lost. Lots of life is about getting a little lost; going a little off course; feeling a little unsure; taking a risk; moving off your path; consciously making a wrong turn, just to see how it will turn out. Part of what makes getting lost so exciting is the sheer willfulness of knowing you are making a wrong turn and doing it anyway.

I write as the oldest child from a family. Family theory system developed by Murray Bowen would say that explains everything. Your birth order in your family of origin is a major contributing factor to the makeup of your personality. For example, youngest children could probably relate pretty quickly to the illustration of willfully going off the path, just for the heck of it. Right? Well, the very idea of doing that strikes terror into the hearts of us eldest born.

Many eldest children could never imagine taking the wrong road, just for the heck of it; whereas, it may come without thinking to those "youngest." And you middle, or only children, you look in vain for role models amongst your peers or siblings. You get confused. Half of us are going the wrong way and having fun and the other half never stray away and you're never sure what is right.

It's a complex thing isn't it, finding your place in the family as you grow up. And we carry the dynamics of our families of origin with us from the day we are born until the day we die. No matter how fast or hard we seek to distance ourselves from our families, our family of origin and the dynamics of it stay with us, stamped on us. It's printed indelibly on us and a lot of what we deal with at every age of life can find its root in our family history.

Jesus seems to have been wise about this. When the Pharisees and the scribes began to grumble about how he ate with tax collectors and sinners, Jesus tells them a story. It's a story about a single parent family, a father and two sons. It's one of Jesus' best-known stories. It's full of psychological insight and theological depth. It can still get lots of us going, particularly the eldest children among us.

Murray Bowen

It begins by being a story about the younger son deciding that he can't wait to get his inheritance. "Why not ask for it now?" he thinks, and does and gets it but spends it all and ends up working at a pig farm. While there, Jesus tells us that he came to himself. He had one of those moments where his mind was cleared. He knew what to do: go home, say you're sorry and get a job on Dad's ranch. So he rehearses his speech and heads home.

Then Jesus shifts and it becomes a story about the father. The father does not act like a patriarch should. He does not act like a fellow who has been dishonored. The father does not ask for an accounting of how the son spent half his fortune. The father is prodigal - extravagant in his affection. This is not a story about human fathers. Nor is it a story about patriarchs. It is a story about God. With this story, Jesus has shown us the face of God. This is our homecoming, not to our family of origin, but to our true identity as children of the Divine.

There is another take on this scene and that's the eldest's response. And it's predictable; it's real and very much alive in the world today. It's resentment. It's anger. It's the scribes and Pharisees. It's in all of us. "¼ when this son of yours comes back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you throw him a party." The father reconnects with his eldest, while not apologizing for the way he dealt with the youngest. Whether elder, or younger, or middle, or only, the message is the same. We're always, always welcomed home. Sure there may be some among us who will roll their eyes when they see you coming back, but God loves them too and they are always with God.

So maybe the reason I don't ask for directions when I'm lost is not because I'm male, but because I'm Catholic and at some deep level I believe that when I'm searching for the way, God comes to meet me.

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