The Christian: An Obedient Being
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September 27, 2020“‘A man had two sons….
Which of the two did his father's will?’
They answered, ‘The first.’” (Mt 21:28, 31)
Jesus speaks of two sons. He asks: Which did the will of his father? Which one is like me, the Son of the Father, the only one, the Beloved? The first, they say. The one who said, “I will not”? The response of the first son in Greek is: Οὐ θέλω, which means, not “I will not” in the sense of “I am not going to,” but rather, “I do not will it” or “ I do not wish it.” The Father says: Go to my vineyard. Prune the branches and bring forth fruit from my most beautiful vine. The Son says: I do not wish to. “My soul is sorrowful even to death” (Mt 26:38). I am agitated and afraid. My heart and body rebel at the prospect of such a great cost, such an enormous sacrifice. “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet, not as I will, but as you will” (Mt 26:39). He agonizes over it, with loud cries and tears, and with reverence (Hb 5:7). He goes to the vineyard, prunes its branches, and crushes its grapes. “Son though he was, he learned obedience through what he suffered” (Hb 5:8).
The other son is Adam, who received the command of God with joy, but it did not bear fruit because the ground was rocky. He wandered away from the Father’s vineyard to his own place, a place in which his true identity as son is obscured – what our fathers call the “region of unlikeness.” But this is not the end of the story, even for the second son. In Christ, the disobedient son is given the possibility to change his mind, to be converted, to be transformed into the likeness of the obedient Son. It is the Son’s own abasement that accomplishes this feat.
“He humbled himself,
becoming obedient to the point of death,
even death on a cross.” (Phil 2:8)
Guerric of Igny expands upon how the humble Christ changes Adam’s mind in unforgettable terms:
“‘I will not serve,’ man says to his Creator. ‘Then I will serve you,’ his Creator says to man. ‘You sit down, I will minister, I will wash your feet. You rest, I will bear your weariness, your infirmities. Use me as you like in all your needs, not only as your slave but also as your beast of burden and as your property. If you are tired or burdened I will carry both you and your burden…. If you are hungry or thirsty and have nothing better at hand perhaps, and no calf so well fattened is available, behold I am ready to be slaughtered that you may eat my flesh and drink my blood…. If you are led into captivity or sold, here I am, sell me and redeem yourself at my cost, or with myself as the price…. If you are ill and afraid to die I will die for you so that from my blood you may make yourself medicine that will restore life.’
…O detestable pride of man who scorns to serve, pride that could not be reduced to humility by any other example than the servitude, and such servitude, of its Lord….
You have conquered, Lord, you have conquered the rebel; behold I surrender to your bonds, I put my neck under your yoke. Only deign to let me serve you, suffer me to toil for you.” (Sermon 29)
The first Son did not want to undertake the burdensome task of the Father’s will. But his natural fear and dread did not prevent him from surrendering his heart to the Father. What changed his mind? It was the beauty of his Father’s heart. This is exactly what is laid open to us in Christ. In today’s second reading St Paul urges us to follow this example:
“If there is any encouragement in Christ…
Have in you the same attitude that is also in Christ Jesus.” (Phil 2:1, 5)
We get to be the first son if we are willing to change our mind. The change of mind is to put on the mind of Christ, which is offered to us as Christians:
“Complete my joy by being of the same mind, with the same love,
united in heart, thinking one thing.” (Phil 2:2)
Paul’s joy is the joy of the Father, which spills over into the hearts of his sons. To share in the will of God as our common will is to give joy to the Father’s heart, and to one another.
“Humbly regard others as more important than yourselves” (Phil 2:3)
Only the humble can bend down, in imitation of this One who is not ashamed to bend so low. To this One:
“Every knee should bend,
of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth.” (Phil 2:10)
By our vow of obedience, we are invited to enter this mystery of lowliness in a unique way. St Benedict says that “Obedience comes naturally to those who cherish Christ” (RB 5.1). A passionate love of Christ implies a passionate desire for his humility, the chief expression of which is obedience. This is not about humility in the abstract – a thoroughly unattractive proposition. It is the humility of Christ that matters, that we are invited to enter, to dwell in and be infused by until there is “no longer I, but Christ dwells in me” (Gal 2:20). According to Paul, the humility and obedience of Christ is everything. It is worth the loss of everything:
“I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him… I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.” (Phil 3:8-9, 10-11).
In Benedict’s terms, it is worth being like a sheep for slaughter or a brute beast or a worm in our own eyes and in the eyes of others, because by it we draw near to the beloved and become like him.
When asked to bend, our natural reaction is Οὐ θέλω: I don’t want too; it’s too hard, too painful, too much of a threat to my sense of self. It rubs raw my sensitivities, offends my taste and sense of decency, undermines my tenuous grip on feeling in control. Humility says: “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet, not as I will, but as you will” (Mt 26:39). It says this not to God alone, but to Christ in my sister who holds a position of authority, to Christ in my sister who is in need, to Christ in my sister who is annoying. This is not an abandonment of my own authority, nor of my capacity of adult decision-making and discernment. It is rather a burning desire to choose Christ in all situations, rather than my own will, my own convenience, my own comfort.
Humility and obedience are not ordered to death, but to life. “Is there anyone here who yearns for life and desires to see good days?” (RB Prol. 15/Ps 33:13). At certain moments, it may feel like death, because we are not greater than he who “learned obedience through what he suffered” (Hb 5:8). The Church’s document on The Service of Authority and Obedience quotes St Bernard: “It is not the death which was pleasing, but the will of the one who died of his own accord” (§6). The same document goes on to say:
“Only the child who senses himself loved by the Father and loves him with his whole self can arrive at this type of radical obedience. The Christian, like Christ, is defined as an obedient being. The unquestionable primacy of love in Christian life cannot make us forget that such love has acquired a face and a name in Christ Jesus and has become obedience. Therefore, obedience is not humiliation but the truth on which the fulness of human persons is built and realized.” (The Service of Authority and Obedience, §8)
May we allow ourselves to be drawn by virtue of our Christian identity and all the more, our vow of obedience, into this great mystery. May we experience the power of Christ’s resurrection, made perfect in weakness. May we embrace the abasement of Christ, choose his lowliness, his life of service, and so fulfill the joy of the Father’s heart, the deepest joy of our own heart, and the joy of one another’s hearts.
Image: Return of the Prodigal Son, by Rembrandt van Rijn
