Photo: Pinterest Christ Is in Our Midst, my dear readers!
Today (Sunday, June 29) at the Divine Liturgy we heard the striking—almost paradoxical—words of the holy Apostle Paul: Being then made free from sin, ye became the servants of righteousness (Romans 6:18).
These words can unsettle our proud earthly reason. To be set free—and immediately become a servant again? Is this the kind of freedom to which the Gospel calls us? Yet within this apparent contradiction lies one of the deepest theological and anthropological truths about the human soul.
Writing to the Christians of Rome, who had been rescued from the suffocating atmosphere of pagan vice, the Apostle delivers a precise spiritual diagnosis of humanity: outside of Christ, man is a slave. This is no mere metaphor.
Outside of Christ, man is a slave. This is no mere metaphor.
Ask anyone who has spent years struggling with anger, envy, or destructive addictions. He will tell you: “I did not want to do it, yet I did.” Sin never asks permission. It enters the house of the soul silently, through small compromises, and then bolts the door from the inside. A man imagines that he is merely flirting with the world, while in reality he is constructing an invisible prison around himself.
The ancient teachers of the Church rightly compared this condition to a grave illness. Just as a person enslaved by addiction loses mastery over his own body, so the sinner surrenders his mind and will to a destructive power. It is a spiritual paralysis.
But it is precisely into the darkness of this captivity that the Savior enters. In the Mystery of Baptism, something far greater than the legal forgiveness of sins takes place; there is a radical renewal of our very nature. Like the merciful Father, the Lord finds us wounded in a far country, sets us free, and brings us into His own House.
Why, then, does the Apostle still call this blessed state “slavery”? St. Paul deliberately uses this stark expression out of condescension to our spiritual immaturity. To a mind accustomed to gratifying the flesh, a life lived according to God’s righteousness initially feels like a restriction, even a kind of violence against oneself. We must compel ourselves. We pray through the dryness of our hearts; we forgive through the sting of deep offense; we help our neighbor despite selfishness and weariness. This is the difficult, ascetical stage of the spiritual life.
Yet hidden within this holy struggle is the mystery of our transformation. Little by little, divine grace refashions the inner man. What began as an act of self-discipline becomes a profound inner need. Prayer is transformed into the very breath of the soul, and mercy becomes its natural joy. The saints lived in such a way that they simply could not do otherwise. Righteousness was not a burden placed upon them—it had become their new nature. This is the fullness of being “servants of righteousness”—when goodness itself becomes part of who you are. This, and this alone, is true freedom.
But how are we to preserve this gift in a world where temptations constantly flash across our smartphone screens and seek to dictate the rules by which we live?
First, remember that slavery to sin always begins with something small—with one careless thought, with one compromise accepted. Vigilance is needed at the first step toward the water, not when you are already drowning.
Second, righteousness is built through constant action. Do not wait for spiritual exhilaration or extraordinary miracles. Act in spite of reluctance. Every deliberate effort of the will, every kind word, every act of mercy becomes another stone laid in the foundation of your spiritual temple.
Finally, never forget whose you are. We have been purchased at a great price—the Blood of the Crucified God. That leaves sin with no rightful claim upon us. As St. John Chrysostom teaches, in earthly warfare a man may be taken captive against his will, but in the spiritual battle no one can make you a slave unless you willingly defect to the enemy’s side. The choice of whom we serve always remains ours.
The “slavery of righteousness” is the paradoxical captivity that gives not chains but wings. It is the life in which the soul ceases its restless wandering and finds its rest in God. Yes, this path demands effort, but its end is holiness and eternal life. The end of the path of sin, however, is death.
Each of us today must choose. Sin deceitfully promises freedom, only to reduce us to slavery. Christ, on the other hand, calls us into His blessed service and grants us true liberty. Let us therefore choose that holy servitude which makes us the free children of our Heavenly Father.
