The official in the registrar’s office carefully removed the bubblewrap from the portrait of Queen Elizabeth and hung it on the wall (the portrait, not the bubblewrap). Then, he invited a lovely lady and me to stand in front of him and repeat the prescribed oath religiously, word by word. Seen from the side, it looked very much like a civil marriage of two smartly dressed people (I was wearing my kilt outfit). But we weren’t holding hands, looking into each other’s eyes, or kissing each other after the end of the ceremony. In fact, I had only met the woman ten minutes earlier in that office and – after our rather fleeting encounter – have never seen her since. The only thing we had in common was our oath to be loyal subjects of Her Majesty and her successors; in other words, we formally became British citizens at that moment. It was such an important milestone in my life that I will celebrate its anniversary this week. It’s a strange thing, though, when you think about it. Unlike me and my incidental companion, most people born in the UK never make such an oath of obedience to the sovereign. Does it make me more British than the native ones?
The event continued a time-honoured tradition of obedience to the monarch or any other form of government. Even if it’s not formally expressed, it is always assumed and – if need be – enforced. It’s called the rule of law and effectively makes us its subjects. In the Catholic Church, obedience is one of the three traditional vows taken by members of religious orders and ordained priests. In the secular world, the police force and the military take an oath when they enter service, and doctors take the so-called Hippocratic Oath. The list of circumstances when a formal oath plays an indispensable role can be very long indeed. It’s because obedience can be a feat difficult to pull off, whether you are on the receiving end or the one that demands or expects it.
The parable in today’s gospel and the subsequent answer given by Jesus’ opponents seems so straightforward that it shouldn’t require any comment. But then Jesus applied it to a specific situation and thus made it more nuanced. First, neither of the two sons was initially obedient to their father; one paid lip service to his request while the other rejected it instantly. In a way, the latter was more honest in his attitude than the former. The key moment was the following reflection or the lack of it. As a result of the former, the brutally honest son fulfilled his father’s wish, unlike his smooth-tongued brother. The Pharisees correctly understood that the outcome was the deciding factor in assessing the situation. Empty declarations wouldn’t cut it, or as we say: “actions speak louder than words.”
At first glance, we might feel uneasy with this parable because – despite our good intentions – every now and again, we struggle to live up to our beliefs, moral code, or even self-imposed rules and standards. Sometimes, we might feel, or even be perceived as, those who “do as I say,” not “do as I do.” However, today’s gospel offers us hope despite Jesus’ rebuttal of the Pharisees. His harsh criticism wasn’t about their mistakes but their inability or unwillingness to reflect on them and learn from them. In Jesus’ opinion, their problem was their rigidity of mind.
Obedience seems so difficult because we often misunderstand it as a mindless, irreflective attitude that goes against our instinctive sense of freedom and individuality. A proper implementation of obedience is nothing like that. Good leaders always try to help their subordinates understand and see a wider picture, so they follow orders or instructions of their own volition, rather than be forced to do so. Over time, positive experiences build their trust, and consequently, the subordinates follow their leaders even without fully understanding the situation. In my career, I’ve been fortunate in that most of my superiors have been of such a type. That leads us to the other side, to being at the receiving end of demands of obedience. The ability and willingness to understand why we should or must do things is crucial, firstly, to avoid falling into traps of abuse or exploitation, and secondly, to positively answer to just demands and expectations. It applies to religious laws and moral codes, too.
The Old Testament, the apparent domain of strict, even harsh, religious law, is peppered with phrases indicating that the Law of the Lord must be meditated, contemplated, pondered and reflected upon. The Law was given not as a rigid set of rules to be kept for its own sake but as a way of shaping and forming the right mindset, and – consequently – charitable attitudes and behaviour. The same applies to the Christian moral code, often criticised as old-fashioned, outdated or too demanding. When we make efforts to grasp the reasons for certain rules, we might come to a better understanding of them and keep them not begrudgingly but embracing them freely. St John, in his first letter, reassured us: “In fact, this is love for God: to keep his commands. And his commands are not burdensome.” (5:3)
