Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Dc. George Gussy
There is a story about a father who had two teenage sons. One Saturday morning, he told them that he needed help cleaning up the yard. There were branches to gather, leaves to rake, and some heavy things that needed to be moved.
The first son immediately said, “Sure, Dad. No problem. I’ll be right out.” The father smiled. That was exactly what he wanted to hear.
The second son was not nearly so agreeable. “No, Dad. I’ve got other things I want to do today. I don’t want to spend my Saturday working in the yard.”
The father was disappointed, but he went outside and began working alone.
About an hour later, he heard the back door open. It was the second son—the one who had said no. Without saying much, the boy picked up a rake and started working beside his father.
The first son—the one who had said, “Sure, Dad”—never came outside.
At the end of the day, which son had really done what his father asked?
That simple story is very close to the parable Jesus gives us in today’s Gospel.
A father says to his first son, “Son, go out and work in the vineyard today.”
The son answers, “I will not.”
But afterward, he changes his mind and goes.
The father asks his second son the same thing. The second son says, “Yes, sir,” but he does not go.
Then Jesus asks the question: “Which of the two did his father’s will?”
The answer is obvious: the first.
This is a short parable, but it asks us a serious question: Is our faith found only in what we say, or is it visible in the way we live?
When it comes to our faith, most of us know the right words.
We know when to say “Amen.” We know the prayers. We know the commandments. We know that we should forgive, love our neighbor, care for those in need, be patient with our families, pray regularly, and make room for God in our lives.
We can say, “Yes, Lord.”
But Jesus reminds you and I today that saying yes is not the same as living yes. There is also something wonderfully hopeful in this Gospel. The first son initially refuses his father, but his first response does not become his final response.
Perhaps the most important word in the parable is “afterward.”
He said no, but afterward he went.
There is hope in that word.
We all have our “afterwards.” There are moments when we recognize that we have been stubborn, distracted, selfish, or simply too busy to listen. There are times when we realize that we have neglected someone, held onto resentment, or allowed our relationship with God to drift into the background.
The first reading from Ezekiel reminds us that God is interested not simply in where we have been, but in the direction we are going now. God does not imprison us in yesterday, but we are pretty good in doing that to ourselves. We remember our failures and think, “That’s just who I am.” Sometimes we do it to other people. Someone disappoints us or hurts us, and we decide, “That person will never be different.” But God sees more than a person’s past. God continues to call.
That should affect the way we look at ourselves and at one another. No human life can be reduced to its worst moment. Grace can still be at work in places we cannot see.
Yet Jesus also directs this parable toward people who were very comfortable with religious language. The chief priests and elders knew the law. They spoke about God. They occupied positions of religious respect. They looked like the son who immediately said, “Yes, sir.” Yet Jesus tells them that tax collectors and prostitutes were entering the Kingdom of God before them. Why?
Not because sin did not matter, but because those whom society dismissed had responded to God, while some who appeared religious remained closed to what God was doing in front of them. That is a danger for every religious person, including those of us who come to church faithfully. We can become very good at religious words while avoiding what those words demand. What I mean is,
We can say, “Lord, have mercy,” while refusing to show mercy.
We can pray, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,” while holding tightly to a grudge.
We can hear the commandment to love our neighbor and then walk past someone who needs compassion.
We can receive Christ in the Eucharist and still fail to recognize Christ in the lonely, the poor, the difficult person, or even the member of our own family who needs our attention. Jesus is asking us to bring our words and our lives together. St. Paul shows us what that looks like in today’s second reading. He tells the Philippians, “Have in you the same attitude that is also in Christ Jesus.”
And what is the attitude of Christ? Humility.
Jesus does not simply tell the Father yes. He lives his yes.
Ultimately, a yes that led him to the cross.
Jesus shows us that obedience to God is not merely something spoken. It becomes a life given in love.
So perhaps today’s Gospel invites each of us to ask one simple question:
Where is there a gap between the faith I profess and the life I am actually living?
Maybe God has been quietly asking you to serve, to give, to listen, or simply to become more patient.
These are not usually dramatic things. Most of the vineyard is ordinary.
It is the kitchen table, the workplace, the parish, the hospital room, the grocery store, the telephone call we keep putting off. It is the person standing in front of us.
And that is where our faith becomes real.
We might be tempted to think that God wants impressive things from us. More often, God asks for faithfulness in the place where we already are. With the people we meet and see every day.
Christianity is not primarily about appearing religious. It is about becoming like Christ. Every Mass gives us an opportunity to look honestly at that calling.
We come into this church carrying the week behind us—our good choices and our bad ones, our generosity and selfishness, our faithfulness, and failures. We place all of it before the Lord.
Then we hear the Word of God.
We receive the Body of Christ.
And at the end, we are sent out.
That last part matters. The Mass does not end with us remaining comfortably where we are. We are sent back into the vineyard. To Love, to heal, to provide comfort, and show acts of kindness…. when we leave here, there is still a Gospel that needs to be lived And the Father still says to each of us: go out and work in my vineyard today.”
Our response will ultimately be measured by more than the words we speak here on Sunday. It will be seen in what happens on Monday morning, around the dinner table, in our workplaces, in our relationships, and in the quiet choices no one else sees.
Earlier this week, Archbishop Fulton Sheen was declared Blessed and I have a quote from him that I think goes nicely with today’s Gospel message, The quote is this, “If you don’t behave as you believe, you will end up believing as you behave. When it’s all said and done, the most important yes we give to God is not the one spoken with our lips.
It is the one lived with our lives.