V/ My eyes are turned to You, O Lord.
R/ You are the joy and gladness of my youth.
V/ Grant me the Wisdom that sits by Your throne.
R/ That I may dwell as a child in Your presence.
Let us pray:
Lord, in Your all-providential plan, You have led me to this moment to rediscover myself in Your Word and Wisdom. Aid me to make this time of meditation and prayer enriching, transforming, and liberating for my well-being and others.
THE FREEDOM TO WILL THE GOOD
26th SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME, YR A
Ezekiel 18:25-28; Ps 25(24):4-9; Philippians 2:1-11; Matthew 21:28-32
The stark assertion by the prophet Ezekiel that a righteous person can turn to injustice confronts us with the profound, sometimes terrifying, reality of human freedom. It confirms that it is entirely possible to experience a living relationship with God and yet consciously forfeit it. Love, by its very nature, demands this radical openness; God does not secure our fidelity by overriding our capacity to choose otherwise. Yet, as the liturgy of the 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time reveals, what appeared to be a life of righteousness was actually a veneer of servile conformity.
The parable of the two sons in St Matthew’s Gospel diagnoses this spiritual malady in our spiritual journey. The second son’s hollow response, “I go, sir,” illustrates a dutifulness enacted for entirely the wrong reasons. When obedience is rooted merely in compunction, the fear of consequence, or an anxious grasping for the security of being called a son, the heart remains fundamentally alienated from the Father. This is a slave’s dynamic, living on the superficial periphery of existence. His manner of life shows that his heart was never truly attuned to the Father; he simply conformed to maintain a status.
The first son, conversely, possesses the rugged authenticity to initially refuse. While stubborn, he has a mind of his own, free enough to seek his own will. Because the Lord cannot be outdone in His respect for our capacity to cooperate, He leaves room for this son’s reconsideration. The first son’s eventual turning back is an act of genuine, integrated will. He allows the Lord’s compassionate guidance—echoing the cry of the Psalmist, “Guide me in your truth, and teach me”—to reform his belief, proving that true obedience must pass through the crucible of our own interior landscape. To this, we must look to St Paul in his letter to the Philippians. Paul urgently implores a transformation of mind: “Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus.”
This transformation of mind requires what St. Edith Stein understood as an ontological surrender to Truth. Conversion is never merely an intellectual realignment or a shift in moral behaviour. It is an active, robust trust that draws the soul away from the superficial periphery—where actions are dictated by a desire to belong or a fear of punishment—into its deepest centre.
In this interior castle, the soul discovers that it is most fully itself, most distinct and individuated, precisely at the point where its will perfectly unites with God’s. Here, the distinction between “my will” and “God’s will” ceases to be a competition and becomes a communion. However, entering this communion requires passing through the mystery of the cross. The first son’s journey from rebellion to obedience involved a death to his initial stubbornness, a stepping out to actualise his true self in God.
This becomes the definitive cure for both outright rebellion and slavish conformity. Christ reveals that true divine sonship does not consist in grasping at equality or clinging to security, but in an absolute, loving surrender to the Father’s will. Crucially, this obedience does not require the annihilation or suppression of the human will. Here, the tragedy of the second son is entirely resolved. Slaves have things taken from them; sons lay things down freely. The highest expression of freedom is the conscious, loving gift of oneself. We only truly possess our will when we possess the freedom to give it away in love.
Christ stands as the sentinel of this new filial trust. Christ’s obedience unto death is never a fatalistic resignation to an external decree; it is the sovereign, spontaneous movement of a Son who knows Himself to be entirely loved. In Him, God works in us to will and to do His good pleasure, not as a tyrant overriding our agency, but as the gentle, compassionate Father. He guides the humble in right judgement, trusting—in a beautiful, divine mutuality—that we will hear His voice, change our minds, and freely choose the good.
Prayer
God of Truth and Compassion, You invite us to the perfect freedom found only in the surrender of love. Deliver us from the slavery of hollow conformity and the pride of stubborn rebellion. Grant us the mind of Christ Jesus, that we may freely lay down our lives in joyful obedience to Your will, discovering our truest selves in communion with You. Through the same Christ our Lord. Amen.
Ponder Questions
- When evaluating my spiritual life, do I more frequently profess the hollow obedience of the second son—acting out of a servile desire to maintain my status, being called a Christian?
- Do I recognise, alongside Christ, that the highest exercise of my freedom is the conscious, loving gift of myself?
- How am I seeking deep interior communion where my will and God’s will cease to compete and become one?
Practice for the Week
Each morning, before beginning your daily duties or making your first significant decision, pause for a moment of silence. Consciously pray the words, “Lord, I do not yield to this day out of mere duty or fear, but I freely lay down my will in love for You.” Use this intentional pause to shift your motivation from servile conformity to true filial freedom.
Phrase to Remember
Slaves have things taken from them; sons lay things down freely.