### Lectio Divina: CHANGED
Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time | Day 26 of the Season of Creation
“He said in reply, ‘I will not,’ but afterwards changed his mind and went.” — Matthew 21:29
### 1\. Lectio — The Word
Today’s readings invite me to consider the difference between changing my mind and changing my heart.
In Ezekiel, the Lord reminds me that I am not imprisoned by yesterday’s decisions. If I turn away from wrongdoing and do what is right and just, I shall preserve my life. The psalmist gives me the courage to attempt such a change: “Remember your mercies, O Lord.”
Saint Paul asks me to adopt the attitude of Christ, who did not cling to his divine privileges but humbled himself. And in Matthew’s Gospel, I meet two sons: one who refuses his father’s request but later changes his mind and obeys, and another who agrees but never goes.
I recognize myself in both sons. I can be quick to promise and slow to act, or quick to refuse and slow to recognize the invitation concealed in an interruption.
During this Season of Creation, I hear the voice of the Good Shepherd calling me to something more than changing my opinions. He is asking me to change my ways.
### 2\. Meditatio — The Changed Mind
At The Glenn, I have discovered that one of the most effective instruments of conversion is a grandchild armed with a question.
I am comfortably settled in my easy chair when one of the grandchildren asks, “Can I go out to the farm and play with the new puppy Bianca?”
“No,” I reply.
It is a perfectly reasonable answer, or so I think. After all, I am comfortable, I have my plans, and I have no particular desire to abandon my chair for another excursion around The Glenn.
Then comes that terrible little theological question: “Why?”
It is remarkable how a three-letter word can overturn an entire philosophy of life.
Why, indeed?
Is there some danger? Some urgent work? Some compelling reason to deny this small adventure? Or have I simply mistaken my own comfort for the common good?
My conscience joins the interrogation. Before long, I find myself saying, “Okay, I’ve changed my mind.”
In today’s Gospel, the first son initially refuses his father’s invitation but eventually goes into the vineyard. I wonder how many times God has invited me into his vineyard disguised as a grandchild asking to play with a puppy.
Laudato Si’ reminds me that humanity has changed profoundly and that the constant accumulation of novelties can encourage superficiality. I can change my phone, my tractor, my plans and my opinions without ever changing my heart.
Perhaps the greatest change required of me is not technological but relational.
During this Season of Creation, I am learning that the living water of God’s grace sometimes arrives in unexpected vessels. Sometimes it comes as rain upon the thirsty soil of The Glenn. Sometimes it comes through a child’s innocent question, watering a conscience that has become as dry and hardened as the Texas Panhandle in September.
This week, I will revisit the skill of making change. Not merely changing my mind when it suits me, but allowing God to change my heart when love requires it.
### 3\. Oratio — Prayer
Heavenly Father, remember your mercies and teach me to remember them as well.
Forgive me for the times I have confused my comfort with your will, my routines with responsibility and my reluctance with wisdom.
Give me the humility of your Son, who did not cling to his privileges but emptied himself in love.
When my grandchildren interrupt my plans, help me recognize the invitation to communion hidden within their questions.
When your creation calls for my attention, help me respond not merely with good intentions but with meaningful action.
Pour your living water upon the hardened places of my heart. Change my habits, renew my relationships and give me the courage to enter your vineyard, even when I have already said no.
Saint Francis of Assisi, pray for me, that I may embrace the joy of conversion and discover Christ in every creature entrusted to my care.
Amen.
### 4\. Contemplatio — What Must Be Changed
Sitting in my easy chair at The Glenn, I realize that my encounter with a grandchild may illuminate a much larger problem facing humanity.
The discussion of transhumanism and posthumanism in Magnifica humanitas raises questions about the relationship between technological advancement, human identity and our responsibility toward creation.
There is a peculiar contradiction in imagining that humanity can overcome its limitations through increasingly sophisticated technology while remaining unwilling to undertake the much simpler work of changing its heart.
I can use artificial intelligence to organize my farm, calculate feed requirements, monitor livestock and plan improvements. Yet none of these technological achievements can make the moral decision to get out of my chair and accompany a grandchild into the vineyard.
Technology can enhance my capabilities, but it cannot substitute for my willingness to love.
The same distinction applies to my relationship with creation. I may possess increasingly sophisticated tools for managing water, protecting livestock and improving agricultural production. But if I regard the creatures at The Glenn merely as instruments of productivity, I have changed my methods without renewing my relationship with the Creator.
Neither should I forget my particular responsibility as a human being. My sheep, my livestock guardian dogs and even little Bianca depend upon my capacity for knowledge, freedom and moral judgment.
An adequate ecology requires an adequate understanding of humanity. I must recognize the intrinsic worth of other creatures without denying the distinctive responsibility God has entrusted to me.
Perhaps this is why Jesus presents me with two sons rather than two competing theories of agricultural management. The essential question is not which son possesses the most advanced knowledge of the vineyard, but which one actually goes to work.
I contemplate the living water of baptism, which has already called me to conversion. I do not need to become something beyond human to fulfill that calling. I need to become more fully human, following the example of Christ.
And when the next grandchild asks me to accompany them outside, perhaps the most meaningful technological advancement I can make is to switch off my recliner, put down my phone and say yes.
### 5\. Actio — Practicing Change
This week, I will practice responding to interruptions as opportunities for conversion. Before saying no to a grandchild, a neighbor or a need at The Glenn, I will ask myself whether my refusal comes from genuine responsibility or simply from convenience.
I will also identify one habit in my Laudato Si’ Action Plan that needs to change, particularly in my use of water. Rather than merely resolving to do better, I will make one concrete adjustment and follow through.
### 6\. Song Pairing
Changes — David Bowie
A song about the inevitability of change that invites me to consider the difference between being changed by circumstances and choosing to change through love.
### 7\. Movie Pairing
The Ultimate Gift
A story about a young man whose inherited expectations are challenged through experiences of work, generosity, friendship and responsibility. It reminds me that the most valuable changes are often those that teach us how to love.
### 8\. Poetic X-Verse — Changed
I thought my chair a throne of peace, Where work and worry found release. A child appeared beside the door, And asked for something slightly more.
I said him nay; he questioned why, And brought my comfortable kingdom nigh. The living waters stirred my soul, And made a stubborn spirit whole.
For Christ himself had changed the way, From grasping power to love’s display. And so I rose, my pride unmade, To walk with love through autumn shade.
Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time | Day 26 of the Season of Creation
