Suppose I could tell you that somewhere in England there was a field containing millions of pounds worth of crops, ready to be gathered.
The harvest was there.
The weather was right.
Everything was ready.
But there were not enough workers to bring it in.
We would call that a tragedy.
Yet Jesus says something far more shocking:
“The harvest is rich, but the labourers are few.”
He is not talking about crops.
He is talking about souls.
Four days into the World Cup, millions of people are following every match.
Children know the players.
Parents know the fixtures.
People are talking about football everywhere.
At the same time, many of our children live in another world as well.
A world of Fortnite, Minecraft, Pokémon, Roblox and countless other games.
And there is something these two worlds have in common.
Nobody becomes a footballer by watching football.
And nobody gets the full benefit of a game simply by downloading it.
You can have the game installed.
You can have it sitting on your device.
You can even know everything about it.
But until you enter the game, explore it, and keep returning to it, you haven’t really experienced it.
And that is where many people misunderstand First Holy Communion.
They think today is the goal.
The achievement.
The finish line.
The moment you’ve “done” Communion.
But the Church has never seen it that way.
Today is not the finish line.
Today is the beginning.
Imagine a young footballer finally being selected for an academy.
No coach would say:
“Congratulations. You’ve made it. No need to train anymore.”
The selection is not the end.
It is the beginning of serious formation.
And so it is today.
Children, today Jesus is inviting you into a friendship that He wants to last your entire life.
Not until next week.
Not until secondary school.
Not until your photographs are printed.
Your whole life.
And this matters because of what Catholics actually believe.
If Holy Communion were simply a symbol, none of this would make sense.
Why prepare for months?
Why bring families together?
Why have saints spent their lives before the Blessed Sacrament?
Why did martyrs die rather than give up the Mass?
Why build churches at all?
The answer is simple.
Because Catholics believe that Holy Communion is not merely about Jesus.
It is Jesus.
The same Jesus who walked on water.
The same Jesus who raised the dead.
The same Jesus who died on the Cross and rose from the tomb.
The same Jesus who reigns in heaven.
That is who these children receive today.
And if that is true—and it is—then one Holy Communion is worth more than all the trophies in the world.
More than a World Cup.
More than a Premier League title.
More than fame.
More than wealth.
More than anything money can buy.
Because every trophy eventually gathers dust.
Every champion is eventually forgotten. Or ends up in League One.
Every earthly success passes away.
But Jesus Christ remains forever.
Now here is the challenge.
Children learn what matters by watching adults.
The truth is that most children do not lose the faith because somebody disproves Catholicism.
Most lose it because, little by little, they conclude it is not very important.
Not because Mum and Dad told them it was false.
But because they silently learnt that football was important.
School was important.
Work was important.
Holidays were important.
But faith was optional.
And children always believe what we do more than what we say.
You never need to tell a child whether football matters.
They can see it.
They see the excitement.
The conversations.
The commitment.
The time.
The attention.
And children know exactly the same thing about faith.
They know whether Sunday Mass matters.
They know whether prayer matters.
They know whether Jesus matters.
They know whether faith sits at the centre of family life or somewhere near the edges.
And perhaps some parents are thinking:
“I’d like to pass on the faith, but I don’t always know how.”
That is understandable.
Many faithful Catholics were taught what the Church teaches, but not always why she teaches it.
And so when children ask difficult questions, or when colleagues challenge the faith, confidence can disappear.
Yet the Catholic faith is not irrational.
It is not blind faith.
It is true.
And what is true can be explained and defended.
That is why, beginning in mid-July, we are launching our Defend the Faith catechesis.
Not for experts.
Not for theologians.
For ordinary Catholics.
For parents and grandparents.
For anyone who wants to understand the faith more deeply and become more confident in sharing it.
Because if we want our children to keep the faith, they need more than slogans.
They need reasons.
And parents deserve those reasons too.
And all of this is part of a renewed sacramental vision for our parish.
Not a programme.
A vision.
A return to what the Church has always taught.
That parents are the first teachers of the faith.
The first witnesses.
The first catechists.
The first people who show their children what it means to know Christ.
The parish will help.
The school will help.
The clergy will help.
We will provide resources, support and formation.
But faith cannot simply be delegated.
It grows first in the home.
At the family table.
In daily prayer.
In the habit of Sunday Mass.
In seeing Christ loved by those we love.
One day the World Cup will be forgotten.
The winners will age.
The trophies will gather dust.
The games will become statistics.
But every child receiving Holy Communion today has an immortal soul.
Every child here will live forever.
Every person in this church will live forever.
And that is why Jesus says:
“The harvest is rich.”
Not because there are trophies to win.
But because there are souls to save.
And perhaps the greatest question facing our parish is not:
“How many children made their First Holy Communion?”
But:
“How many will still be receiving Our Lord twenty years from now?”
That is the harvest.
And that is why all of us—parents, grandparents, priests, teachers and parishioners—must become labourers in the field of Christ.
St. Mary's, St. John Bosco and St. Edward's 