Sunday, September 27, 2026

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time


St. Paul exhorts the Christians of Phillipi 
to be of the same mind,
united in one love and concern for one another.
He then tells them to have “the same mind 
that is also in Christ Jesus.”
Christians are to be one mind
by letting Christ’s mind be our mind.
“Mind” here does not refer 
to some thought processor locked up in our heads,
but is what is revealed in the pattern of our lives,
a pattern that can be perceived not in a moment
but only in a life-story that unfolds over time.
To say that Christ’s mind ought to be our mind
is to say that his story ought to be our story.

And what is his story?
Paul gives it to us in brief:
It is the story of one who, 
from before all time,
is in the form of God,
yet does not grasp 
and hold tight to that status,
but empties himself to the point 
of embracing the shame of the cross
and the annihilation of death.
This, however, is only 
the first act of the drama.
For in a surprising turn of events,
the one who emptied himself 
out of love and loyalty to his Father
is filled with life and glory,
is raised up from death to receive 
the name above every other name—
the name of the great “I am” 
whom all creation worships.
It is a story of glory that grows
not from seeking what is in our own interest
but from saying yes to the divine will,
which seeks the common good 
of the entire cosmos.

What does it mean to make this story our story?
Paul says it is a matter of 
doing nothing out of selfishness or vainglory,
regarding others as more important than ourselves,
looking out not only for our own interests,
but also for those of others.
We make this story our story
through the life of the body of Christ,
into which we have been drawn and reborn,
freed from self-concern by the grace we receive,
trusting that, if we are truly united in one heart,
the love and concern we show to others
will be the same love that they show to us.
To have the mind of Christ
is not to have a set of correct ideas
but to have a shared pattern of life 
that embraces cross and resurrection
out of love for God and neighbor.

The mistake of second son in today’s parable,
and of the chief priests and elders of the people
to whom Jesus addresses the parable,
is to think that it is enough 
to know the right answer 
without living it out in our life-story.
The second son knows the correct answer
when his father orders him to go out
and work in his vineyard: it is “yes sir.”
But as the story unfolds it becomes apparent
that this is mere talk, mere verbal obedience,
not the obedience that Jesus 
will display on the cross,
not the obedience of those 
who have the mind of Christ
and do nothing out of vainglory.
But the first son, 
who clearly does not know 
the right way to answer
and so insolently refuses 
his father’s order,
is subject to a sudden swerve 
in the plot of his story,
in which disobedience 
becomes obedience.

Jesus’ parable is not simply making the point
that deeds are more important that words,
though it is clearly making that point.
It is also making the point that 
the process of attaining the mind of Christ, 
the path by which his story becomes our story,
is a long and twisting one that can only be judged 
once the whole story has been told.
Were we to stop the parable with only 
the two sons’ initial replies,
we would badly misjudge which of them
had done his father’s will.
We don’t know what events intervened.
Perhaps the first son, who said “no,”
began to think of all that his father 
had done for him,
or reflected on the commandment 
to honor your father and mother, 
or was inspired by some else’s example.
Perhaps the second son, who said “yes,” 
remembered something else he wanted to do
that seemed more important or more fun,
or a better use of his time.
We don’t know what events intervened,
but we do know that their stories,
like each of our stories,
are subject to plot twists and sudden reversals
that make it difficult to read their pattern
before their telling is done.
We know that who we are at the outset
is not who we end up being at the end.
This is why Jesus tells the priests and elders,
somewhat shockingly,
that “tax collectors and prostitutes
are entering the kingdom of God before you.”
But if we take the story of Jesus—
the story of cross and resurrection— 
to be our pattern,
then we ought to expect
things to turn out unexpectedly,
and we should never be surprised 
if it is those that are despised and rejected,
that seem dishonorable and disreputable,
who in the end are raised up and glorified by God.

As we strive to attain the mind of Christ,
as individuals and as a Church,
as we seek to make his story our story,
we ought to feel both challenged 
and the comforted by this parable.
We ought to feel challenged 
to respond to God’s call
not only with our lips 
but with our lives,
by conforming them
to the pattern of his life,
emptying ourselves 
into love of God and neighbor.
But we also ought to be comforted
to know that life is long 
and all our stories are still being written,
and the twists and turns that lie behind us
and those that still lie ahead,
are never beyond the power of God
to guide the humble to justice, 
and teaches them his way.
So let us pray that God, who is merciful,
would have mercy on us all.