“Thy Will Be Done”
September 27, 2026
Rev. Rebecca Migliore
Yoda made an appearance in my mind this week. “Do or do not. There is no try.” And that morphed into the “how are we going to change our lives” question: “Do we actually do or do we just say?” Another quote also came to mind—this one from Paul’s letter to the Romans. “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” I think these were the way my subconscious mind was trying to deal with this musing that Jesus puts to us.
What if?…a man had two sons. And went to one, “Son, go and work in the vineyard today.” (Ding, ding, ding—if you were one of Jesus’ disciples, or if you were one of the people hearing or reading Matthew’s gospel, or if you heard my sermon last week—your ears would have perked up. A man, a vineyard, working in the vineyard—ah, Jesus is talking about God’s call for us to be laborers in the kin[g]dom of heaven!) And the son answers, “I will not. No way, no how.” As they would say in England—Cheeky ---(ah, never mind).
So, the man goes to the other, “Son, go and work in the vineyard today.” (Did you notice that Jesus makes sure we know of the relationship between these people—these are not slaves, they are not day laborers, they are not even hired hands—they are sons. They have a vested interest in this vineyard and its production. It might be theirs one day.) And this other son says, “I go, sir. Ay, ay, I’m right on it.” What a good son. What a wonderful boy. If only the other one was like him!
But that isn’t the whole story, Jesus says. That’s only the beginning. Because the son who said he wouldn’t go, DID go. And the son that said that he was on his way already, DID NOT. So if you are judging on what the final outcome is—do you go into the vineyard and work today, only one of the sons passes that test—and it was actually the one who said he wouldn’t go. So, you can see why Yoda and Paul wanted to chime in.
Now we could get lost down the rabbit hole of “Why” did the one say he wouldn’t and then he did, or “Why” did the other say he was going but never got there. Jesus isn’t interested in the all the backstory. He gets right to the point—“Which of the two did the will of his father?” And here is where my brain, since we are reading our way through Matthew, and since I’ve had the Lord’s prayer on my brain, attaching “on earth as it is in heaven” to last week’s parable of the laborers, and “forgive us our debts” to the parable of the week before of the unforgiving servant—so, of course, I thought of “thy will be done.” We’ll get back to that.
But first, I want to give us a little context for this whole reading. Matthew, chapter 21, starts with the Palm Sunday story—Jesus entering Jerusalem. And then it moves to Jesus going to the temple. Did he go to pray? Maybe. Did he go to talk theology with the priests, the Pharisees and Sadducees? Maybe. But when he got to the temple, he saw a market in the midst of the temple compound. Money changers and sellers of animals and birds to be slaughtered and offered as an incense to God. And maybe what went through his mind was the question: are these people really here to worship God, or are they just saying they are here to help the worship of God? And Jesus decided that he needed to clean up the whole mess!
Then we move onto the story of a poor fig tree, who had the unfortunate fate of being on Jesus’ way, and this fig tree, for whatever reason, hadn’t produced any figs that year. And Jesus curses the fig tree because it hasn’t given fruit—it hasn’t lived up to what it (shall we say) “said” it was going to do. And the fig tree withers and dies. Are you starting to get the editor’s point?
And then we get to today’s reading—which starts with a tussle with the authorities (probably because he had just overthrown the tables of the money changers and driven out those selling and buying.) So the chief priests and the elders came and demanded, “By what authority are you doing these things?” And Jesus answers with a difficult question?—“Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?” (It’s a difficult question because it asks the chief priests and elders of the people to declare whose side they were on: were they listening to God? Were they listening to the oppressors? Were they listening to the people?) The answer they come up with is: We do not know.
And then we get to what the New Revised Standard Version Updated calls, “The parable of the two sons.” Jesus seems to be talking to the crowds that are following him, and asking for healing, and listening to every word he says as well as the authorities who are still hanging around trying to figure out how to deal with this problem person. “Which of the two did the will of the father?” And the crowds answer this easy question—“The first.” The one who said he wouldn’t go, the one who disobeyed the father, the one who would not be in the good graces of the people who ruled the temple, the one who was more like us, those of us who are taken with Jesus. We’re not holier than thou.
Maybe we’re not even sure about this God thing. And then Jesus ups the ante by saying, “I tell you, these tax collectors and prostitutes, these people that the temple and its authorities look down on, these will get into the kin[g]dom of heaven before YOU—as he looks directly at the authorities.
Why? Why would Jesus say such a thing? Jesus explains: because they, the despised tax collectors, they, the lower than low prostitutes, they, the common people, the masses, the riff-raff, they heard John, and they went to the river to be baptized, and they believed he was sent from God. But you, temple crowd, did not—even after you realized that he was sent from God. You wouldn’t change your mind. Which brother are you?
Which brother are we? Which brother does the will of the father? Thy will be done? I have to admit that when that verse of the Lord’s prayer jumped into my thoughts, it was a little disturbing. I mean, when I’ve recited those words “Thy will be done” my whole life—and usually I’ve thought of it in the macro sense. Thy will be done so that lion can lie down with lamb. Thy will be done so that justice can roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. Thy will be done so that the first shall be last and the last first. Thy will be done so that earth is much more like heaven.
I’m not sure that I’ve had the thought that I was asking God to help ME do what I say, rather than just say what I am going to try to do (and probably not doing it at all). Thy will be done became personal for me this week. Thy will be done, is shorthand for “make me hear your call, your command, and help me do it.” Help me be the one who goes into the vineyard, regardless of what I said I was going to do. That’s a scary thought.
Because God is calling us into the vineyard to work. Because God is commanding us to love one another, even those we hate. Because we know, without a doubt, that we are the laborers who are in the fields all day, we are the servants who have been forgiven all, and we are the children of God. Which brother, which sister, which child, are we?
And in all likelihood, we are also the prodigal child (if you forgive my stepping into the gospel of Luke), we are the lost lamb, we are the ones who may find ourselves uncertain about the ways of God in our world, hesitant to believe exactly what the church authorities “say,” maybe even wondering how we fit into this thing called the kin[g]dom of heaven. Thank God it’s not a game like “who wants to be a millionaire” where if you get it wrong, one time, “You’re out.” You lost. You go home. No, the God we meet through Jesus has mercy on us when we make the wrong choice. But this God also seems to want us to recognize that mercy and act accordingly. By being a fig tree that does bear fruit. By showing up to worship God not just play pretend. By becoming part of the shouting crowd that wants to be closer to Jesus. By listening to God’s whisper or shout, and step by step, doing what has to be done, in this moment, with these resources, arm in arm with the others who are being as faithful as they can be to God’s will.
Of course, Thy will be done is a prayer, lifted up to the heavens, to our God, naming all those “bigger than ourselves” problems in our world. Of course, Thy will be done, is a mantra, a creed, a litany, about what we desire for our world, about what we will hold in front of our eyes as we walk in this place of valleys and hills. Of course, Thy will be done, is a plea about how we act, individually, and corporately, and universally.
We know that there is so much wrong, so much hate, so much greed, so much—both out there and in here. We know, Jesus. I believe, help my unbelief.
Isn’t this the struggle of every Christian, every day, maybe every moment of every day. Which brother, which sister, which child are we? Do or do not, there is no try, says Yoda. But really, there is always try, and try again. We are invited to do, we are invited to go to the vineyard, we are invited to be in prayer conversation with God, we are invited to work towards that vision that God has put forth, we are invited to gather together in fellowship, we are invited to be filled up with the bread of heaven and the cup of the covenant, we are invited to shelter under the wings, we are invited to go and do likewise, we are invited to call ourselves children of God, we are invited to spend a lifetime cuddling up to Jesus and listening to his stories so that we might do the things we wish to do, the things that God beckons us to do, the things that we know fold themselves into the will of God.
May it be so, Alleluia, Amen.