There is something wonderfully hopeful in today’s Gospel.
The first son gets it wrong.
His father says: “Son, go and work in the vineyard today.”
And he answers: “I will not.” No excuse. No polite wording. Just no.
But then Saint Matthew gives us five important words:
“Afterwards he changed his mind.” And he went.
That is Christianity.
Not that we have never said no to God. Not that we have never sinned.
But that, by grace, our no does not have to be the last word.
That is exactly what Ezekiel is teaching in the first reading.
The people complain: “The way of the Lord is not just.”
They think God is treating them unfairly.
But God answers that each person is responsible for the direction of his or her own life.
“When the wicked turns away from the wickedness he has committed and does what is just and right, he shall save his life.”
That is an astonishing doctrine.
The past is real.
Sin has consequences.
We cannot simply pretend that what we have done never happened.
And yet the past does not have to imprison us.
A person can turn. A sinner can repent. A soul can return to grace.
God can make a new beginning.
Think of a wrong turning on a journey.
If you discover that you are travelling in the wrong direction, there is no virtue in saying:
“Well, I have already driven twenty miles this way, so I may as well continue.”
The sensible thing is to turn around.
That is repentance.
The Church has an old word for it: conversion.
A turning.
Not simply feeling bad about the road behind us, but changing the direction in which we are travelling.
And that is why Confession is one of the most beautiful gifts Christ has given His Church.
We come to God with something real.
A real sin. A real failure. Perhaps something we deeply regret.
And Christ does not say:
“You must now spend the rest of your life being the person who did that.”
He absolves.
Grace restores the soul.
The road towards God opens again.
This is why the Catholic faith can take sin very seriously without ever becoming hopeless.
In fact, we take repentance seriously precisely because grace is real.
The first son does not merely say: “I have changed my opinion.”
He goes into the vineyard.
That matters.
Repentance bears fruit in action.
Our Lord asks: “Which of the two did the will of his father?”
Not: “Which one sounded more respectful?”
Not: “Which one gave the better first impression?”
The second son says beautifully: “I go, sir.”
And then does nothing.
His words are orthodox.
His behaviour is not.
There is something uncomfortable there for religious people.
It is possible to know the language of faith.
To know when to stand and kneel. To know the prayers. To say the Creed.
To identify ourselves quite sincerely as Catholic.
And yet still leave parts of life untouched by God.
The second son says yes with his mouth, but no with his life.
The first says no with his mouth, but eventually gives the Father his obedience.
And Jesus says that tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the Kingdom before the religious leaders.
That is not because tax collecting dishonestly or prostitution suddenly became virtuous.
Quite the opposite.
They enter because they repented.
They heard John the Baptist.
They recognised that their lives needed to change.
The religious leaders heard the same message and thought it was for somebody else.
That may be one of the great dangers of religion.
We become so familiar with the faith that repentance starts sounding like something intended for other people.
The Gospel is always easier when the sinner is somebody else.
But Christ addresses each of us: “go and work in the vineyard today.”
Not when circumstances improve.
Not when we feel more spiritual. Today.
And Saint Paul shows us what that obedience is meant eventually to become.
“Have this mind among yourselves, which was in Christ Jesus.”
Christianity is not simply external compliance.
God wants to change the mind and heart until we begin to love what He commands.
The whole second reading moves towards Christ’s humility.
The Son of God does not cling to Himself.
He gives Himself. He becomes obedient.
And that is the deepest reason Christian obedience is beautiful.
We are not obeying an arbitrary master.
We are being drawn into the obedience of Christ Himself.
The eternal Son says yes to the Father.
And His yes carries Him all the way to the Cross.
There, human disobedience is answered by divine-human obedience.
Adam’s ancient no is answered by Christ’s perfect yes.
And through Baptism we have been joined to that Christ.
So the Christian life is really the slow transformation of our many little noes into His great yes.
Sometimes that happens dramatically.
A person returns to the Church after thirty years.
Someone makes a Confession after a long absence.
A serious sin is abandoned.
But often conversion is quieter.
The person who finally forgives.
The marriage in which somebody stops insisting on always being right.
The Catholic who begins to pray rather than merely intending to pray.
The person who has spent years saying, “One day I will take the faith seriously,” and finally begins today.
That is the first son getting up and going into the vineyard.
And there is enormous hope in that.
We sometimes imagine that saints are people who never said no to God.
Many of them did.
Saint Peter said no in the courtyard when he denied Christ.
Saint Augustine said no for years while he searched everywhere except where God was calling him.
The difference is that grace did not leave them there.
Their no became yes.
That is holiness.
Not an immaculate personal history.
Only Our Lady had that unique preservation from sin.
For the rest of us, holiness means allowing grace to turn us around whenever we discover that we are walking away from God.
And perhaps that is what makes today’s readings so beautiful.
God does not say to the sinner: “You chose wrongly once, therefore you are finished.”
He says: Turn.
Nor does He say to the outwardly religious person:
“You once said yes, therefore nothing more is required.”
He says: Go into the vineyard.
The past is not enough in either direction.
What matters is whether today we are giving ourselves to God.
At every Mass we are confronted with that invitation.
We hear His Word. We profess our faith. We come towards the altar.
And Christ gives Himself completely to us.
The question is whether our lives will answer:
“Yes, Lord.”
Not merely with words.
With obedience.
With repentance where repentance is needed.
With trust where trust is difficult.
With the next faithful thing God asks of us.
The first son began badly.
But he did not end badly.
That is the hope of the Gospel.
With the grace of God, yesterday’s no can become today’s yes.
And today is still time enough to go into the vineyard.
