The Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)
He emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
coming in human likeness;
and found human in appearance,
he humbled himself,
becoming obedient to the point of death,
even death on a cross.
—Philippians 2:7-8
For the evangelist Matthew, discipleship consisted of a series of choices made, again and again, to follow Jesus. We see this value at work in the many interactions between Jesus and the Pharisees and scribes, as well as in Jesus’ instructions to his disciples. This question of discipleship is ultimately focused on how we live out our commitment to follow Jesus, not only in the big events of life, but also in the small, quiet moments.
Thinking of these dynamics, I am reminded of the writings of Graham Greene, the Catholic and British novelist who has come to be regarded as one of the greatest English-language writers of the last century. In his novels, plays, and short stories, Greene explored the power of faith to transform daily life, especially in his explorations of mercy and sacrifice. Anyone who has read the stories of the nameless “Whiskey Priest” in The Power and the Glory, of the adulterous Sarah in The End of the Affair, or of the Cervantes-inspired Monsignor Quixote knows how artfully Greene weaves together questions of God and faith with the complexities—and darkness—of life and love.
In one of his non-religious novels, the thriller Brighton Rock, Greene found an opportunity to reflect on God’s mercy and the hope of redemption when he wrote, “You can’t conceive, my child, nor can I or anyone, the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God.”
Greene is right.
When weighed against human standards, God’s mercy is appallingly strange, because it costs us so little: God asks only that we give ourselves over to love and mercy.
What’s more overwhelming than this truth, however, is that it is Jesus himself who models for us what this means in his obedience to the Father.
Although “obedience” is an unpopular word in our contemporary culture, it is, without a doubt, one of the non-negotiables of Christian life. Instead of being based on the ideas of power and submission that too many people associate with this virtue, however, real obedience—the kind of obedience we see in the life of Jesus—is based on relationships and an awareness grounded in love. In essence, to be obedient to another person is to say to them, “I love you so much—I’m so invested in this relationship—that I’m willing to do what you ask, to give you want you need, without you even having to ask.”
Studie zu den Händen eines Apostels by Albrecht Dürer (ca. 1503)
It’s worth remembering that our word “obedience” comes from the Latin words ob and audire—words that can be translated simply as “to listen.” Ultimately, to be obedient to someone is to listen to them with, as Saint Benedict says in his Rule for Monasteries, “the ear of the heart” (cf. Prologue). Obedience demands that we recognize that we are bound to one another and that we are responsible for caring for each other.
In his letter to the Philippians, from which we hear in Second Reading proclaimed this Sunday, Saint Paul reminds us of the obedience of Jesus who, “humbled himself, / becoming obedient to the point of death, / even death on a cross.” Jesus offered his life as an act of obedience to God the Father for our sakes. He not only recognized what the Father was asking of him and what would be the best for us, but he handed over all of himself on the Cross as the greatest act of love that is possible.
In the Gospel for this Sunday, Jesus himself speaks of obedience in the “Parable of the Two Sons.” The fundamental question here is, “Which of the two did his father’s will?” In this, we are being reminded that if we are really going to call ourselves disciples of Jesus, we have to be willing to set aside our preferences and prejudices and orient our lives to God’s will and what is best for those around us. Obedience demands that we make a gift of ourselves for the good of others, just as Jesus did.
In the eighteenth century the French Jesuit priest Jean Pierre de Caussade reflected, “The free gifts he asks of us are self-denial, obedience and love. The rest is his business. It does not matter whether the soul is carefully fulfilling the duties of one’s state of life, or quietly following the leadings it is given, or submitting peacefully to the dealings of grace.”
For most of us, this “free gift” is a process of letting go which unfolds gradually over the course of a life of prayer, service, struggle, and even setbacks.
As we continue our journey through Ordinary Time, our prayer is that we might have the grace to open our minds and hearts, so that we can freely respond to what is being asked of us as we continue to live out our call to discipleship.
O God, who manifest your almighty power
above all by pardoning and showing mercy,
bestow, we pray, your grace abundantly upon us
and make those hastening to attain your promises
heirs to the treasures of heaven.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
God, for ever and ever. Amen.
-Collect for the Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
