Four days into a World Cup, something interesting has already happened.
Millions of people are invested.
People know the scores.
They know who won.
They know who lost.
They know who should have started.
They know who made mistakes.
They know who still has a chance of lifting the trophy.
Conversations are happening everywhere.
In homes. In pubs. At work. At school.
People are following it closely.
And there is nothing wrong with that.
It is part of the excitement.
But imagine asking a football supporter a simple question.
“What do you want?”
And he replies:
“I want England to win.”
Of course he does.
Every supporter wants their team to win.
But then imagine asking another question.
“What have you done to help?”
And suddenly the answer becomes different.
Because supporters can cheer.
Supporters can hope.
Supporters can discuss.
Supporters can criticise.
Supporters can analyse.
But they cannot score the goals.
They cannot make the tackles.
They cannot do the training.
They cannot win the match.
And I sometimes wonder whether many Catholics approach the Church in exactly the same way.
We want the Church to flourish.
We want young people to return.
We want stronger families.
We want more vocations.
We want fuller churches.
We want England to become Christian again.
And rightly so.
But then Christ asks:
What are you doing to help?
That is the question hidden inside today’s Gospel.
Jesus looks at the crowds and says:
“The harvest is rich, but the labourers are few.”
Not the supporters.
The labourers.
The workers.
The people actually in the field.
And notice something striking.
Jesus does not complain about the harvest.
He does not say there are no souls interested in God.
He does not say the world is beyond saving.
He does not say England is finished.
Quite the opposite.
The harvest is rich.
There are more people searching than we realise.
More people carrying wounds.
More people asking questions.
More people longing for hope.
The harvest is rich.
The problem is elsewhere.
The labourers are few.
And perhaps that is one of the great crises of the Church today.
Not a shortage of baptised Catholics.
A shortage of convinced Catholics.
A shortage of committed Catholics.
A shortage of labourers.
For many years we have often spoken about the Church as though she were somebody else’s responsibility.
The bishop’s responsibility.
The priest’s responsibility.
The school’s responsibility.
The Vatican’s responsibility.
But Christ tells the apostles to pray for labourers.
And then He sends them.
The answer to the prayer is the people praying.
That is uncomfortable.
Because it is much easier to be a supporter than a labourer.
Much easier to discuss problems than solve them.
Much easier to complain than to build.
Much easier to observe than to commit.
And that is why St Paul’s words matter so much.
He says:
“While we were still enemies, Christ died for us.”
Enemies.
That is not the language of a supporter.
That is the language of a rescue.
Imagine a football match where one team is losing badly.
The players are exhausted.
The game is slipping away.
The crowd knows it.
Everyone knows it.
Then somebody steps onto the pitch and changes everything.
The impossible becomes possible.
The lost game is saved.
That is the nearest sporting comparison I can think of.
Because Christianity is not the story of humanity gradually improving itself.
It is the story of divine intervention.
We were not merely confused.
We were not merely struggling.
We were estranged from God.
And Christ entered the field.
Christ entered the battle.
Christ entered our world.
And on the Cross He won a victory we could never win ourselves.
And that means Christianity is not about admiration.
Many people admire Jesus.
Many think He was wise.
Many think He was inspiring.
Many think He was a good man.
That is not enough.
The Gospel is not asking for admirers.
It is asking for disciples.
A supporter admires from a distance.
A disciple follows.
A supporter watches.
A disciple obeys.
A supporter comments on the game.
A disciple enters the field.
Now today we have children making their First Holy Communion.
And children, I want to tell you something.
Today is not the day you graduate from Jesus.
It is the day Jesus takes you onto His team.
Today He gives Himself to you.
Not a badge.
Not a certificate.
Not a trophy.
Himself.
Every football fan dreams of meeting their hero.
Getting close.
Shaking their hand.
Having a photograph.
But today you receive something far greater.
You receive Jesus Christ Himself.
The Son of God.
And He wants you close to Him for the rest of your life.
And parents and grandparents, perhaps the question for you is not whether today will be successful.
It clearly will be.
The photographs will be taken.
The meals will be enjoyed.
The celebrations will happen.
The question is much simpler.
Will these children still be here in five years?
Will they still be receiving Holy Communion in ten years?
Will they still know their faith when they leave home?
Will they still love Christ when they become adults?
Because nobody becomes a footballer by turning up once.
Nobody becomes holy by turning up once either.
Football requires training.
Practice.
Commitment.
Showing up when you do not feel like it.
The Christian life is exactly the same.
Prayer.
Sunday Mass.
Confession.
Learning the faith.
Perseverance.
The glory we see on television is built on thousands of hidden choices.
And holiness is built exactly the same way.
A saint is not made in one dramatic moment.
A saint is made by daily prayer. Daily fidelity. Daily repentance. Daily grace.
And perhaps that is where the Gospel becomes very personal.
When Jesus looks at this parish today, what does He see?
Does He see spectators?
People hoping somebody else will carry the burden?
Or does He see labourers? People willing to pray. To serve. To sacrifice.
To help gather the harvest.
Because the harvest remains rich.
There are still souls needing mercy.
Still families needing hope.
Still children needing faith.
Still people waiting to hear the Gospel.
And the Lord is still looking for labourers.
Perhaps today He is looking at us.
The question is not whether there is work to do.
The question is whether we are content to remain in the stands.
Or whether we are willing to step onto the field Christ has given us.
The field of souls.
The field of families.
The field of this parish.
The field of England.
For the Lord is still looking for labourers.
And perhaps today He is calling us.
St. Mary's, St. John Bosco and St. Edward's 