Three 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 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 a similar way.
We want the Church to flourish.
We want young people to return.
We want more vocations.
We want stronger families.
We want fuller churches.
We want England to become Christian again. And rightly so.
But then Christ asks us: 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.
The striking thing is that Jesus does not complain about the harvest.
He does not say: “The harvest is poor.”
He does not say: “There are no souls interested in God.”
He does not say: “The world is beyond saving.”
Quite the opposite.
The harvest is rich.
The problem is elsewhere.
The labourers are few.
And perhaps that is one of the great crises facing the Church today.
Not a shortage of baptised Catholics.
A shortage of labourers.
A shortage of Catholics who are deeply formed, deeply convinced, and deeply committed.
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 does something very interesting in today’s Gospel.
He tells the apostles to pray for labourers.
And then He sends them.
The answer to the prayer is the people praying.
And perhaps 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.
That is one reason why St Paul’s words in today’s second reading are so important.
He says: “While we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son.”
Enemies.
That is not the language of a spectator.
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.
Then someone steps onto the pitch and completely changes the match.
The impossible becomes possible.
The lost game is saved.
That is the closest sporting image I can think of.
Because Christianity is not a story about humanity gradually improving itself.
It is a story about 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.
That is why Christianity is not merely about admiration.
Many people admire Jesus.
Many people 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.
The difference is enormous.
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.
And perhaps this is where many Catholics struggle.
We know the faith.
We like the faith.
We are attached to the faith.
But have we allowed it to shape our lives?
Do we pray every day?
Not when convenient. Every day.
Do we make sacrifices for Christ?
Do we keep learning the faith?
Do we go regularly to Confession?
Do we speak about Christ to our children and grandchildren?
Do we encourage others back to Mass?
Do we serve the Church with the gifts God has given us?
Because labourers do not merely watch. They work.
Think again about the World Cup.
Nobody wins a World Cup because supporters are enthusiastic.
Matches are won through discipline. Training. Sacrifice. Commitment.
Hours of unseen effort.
The glory visible on television is built upon thousands of hidden choices.
Holiness is exactly the same.
The saint is not made in one dramatic moment.
The saint is made through daily prayer.
Daily fidelity. Daily repentance. Daily obedience. Daily grace.
And perhaps this is where the Gospel becomes very personal.
When Jesus looks at our parish today, what does He see?
Does He see spectators?
People who hope somebody else will carry the burden?
Or does He see labourers?
People willing to pray, to serve, to sacrifice.
People willing to help gather the harvest.
Because the harvest remains rich.
There are still souls searching for meaning. Still families needing hope.
Still children needing faith. Still sinners needing mercy.
Still people waiting to hear the Gospel.
The harvest is rich. Christ Himself says so.
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.
Not the football field. The field of souls. The field of families.
The field of this parish. The field of England. Because the Lord is still looking for labourers. And perhaps today He is looking at us.
St. Mary's, St. John Bosco and St. Edward's 