Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, there is often a distance between what we say and what we actually do. We promise to pray more, to forgive someone, to change a bad habit, to become more involved in the parish, to spend more time with our family. Our intentions may be sincere but eventually the question is not simply, “What did I say?” but “What did I do?” This Sunday’s Word of God confronts that gap between profession and action.

In the first reading, the people complain to Ezekiel: “What the Lord does is unjust.” Ezekiel was speaking during the Babylonian exile in the sixth century before Christ. Jerusalem had fallen and many Israelites were living with the consequences of their nation’s past failures. Some felt trapped by the sins of previous generations. Through Ezekiel, however, God insists that the past does not have to determine the future: “When the sinner renounces sin to become law-abiding and honest, he deserves to live.” That is extraordinarily hopeful and God allows us to change direction. We are not imprisoned by yesterday’s failures. The person we have been does not have to be the person we remain.

Jesus develops precisely this point in the Gospel. He tells of a father with two sons. The father says to the first, “My boy, you go and work in the vineyard today.” He replies, “I will not go,” but afterwards thinks better of it and goes. The second son respectfully answers, “Certainly, sir,” but does nothing. Then Jesus asks the obvious question: “Which of the two did the father’s will?” The answer is the first. The context makes the parable even more challenging. Jesus is speaking in Jerusalem to the chief priests and elders after entering the Temple. These are religious people who know the Scriptures, worship God and possess positions of responsibility. Yet Jesus tells them that tax collectors and prostitutes are making their way into the Kingdom before them. Why? Not because sin does not matter but precisely because some sinners heard John the Baptist, recognised their need to change and responded while those who appeared religious refused to change.

The first son therefore represents something deeply Christian which is repentance. He begins badly but does not end badly. The second begins with beautiful words but never converts those words into obedience. And here the Gospel becomes uncomfortable for us. It is possible to say “yes” to God every Sunday and spend Monday to Saturday saying “no” by the way we live. We can recite the Creed while refusing to forgive. We can receive Holy Communion while deliberately remaining divided from another person. We can speak passionately about Christian values while treating employees, strangers, migrants, the elderly or vulnerable without dignity. We can complain that society is abandoning Christianity while failing to show society a Christianity worth recognising. Our age has no shortage of words. Social media gives everyone an opinion. Politicians make promises, companies publish statements and individuals carefully construct public images. But Christ asks something much simpler: What fruit does your life actually produce?

Saint Paul gives us the clearest example in the 2nd reading referring to Jesus Christ. “His state was divine, yet he did not cling to his equality with God… he emptied himself… and became obedient to the point of death, death on a cross.” Jesus does not merely tell the Father, “Yes.” His entire life becomes that Yes. Christian discipleship therefore is not principally about appearing religious; it is about acquiring the mind of Christ which is humility, service, sacrifice and obedience. So today we might ask ourselves: Where is there a “yes” on my lips but a “no” in my life? Perhaps in my marriage, my family, my prayer, my treatment of others, my use of money, my responsibilities or a reconciliation I continually postpone.

And if we recognise ourselves in the first son, if we have said “no” to God through choices we regret, the Gospel offers hope. We can still change our answer. That is the beauty of repentance. God is less interested in where we began than in whether we are willing to turn towards Him now. At the Eucharist, therefore, let our “Amen” be more than a word. When we say Amen – “I believe; so be it” may our lives say the same thing. Because ultimately, God does not simply ask for Christians who say the right things. He seeks disciples who, even after failure still get up, go into the vineyard and do the Father’s will. May God always inspire and help us. Amen.