25th Sunday in Ordinary Time 2026

In 1998 I took a year off from the seminary and worked at St. Alexander's Church in Morrisonville where I am now pastor.

 

Drive through Peru, New York this time of year and you don't have to use much imagination to picture today's Gospel.

The orchards are busy. The apples are ready. And many workers—some of whom have come a long way to be here—are putting in long days bringing in the harvest.

So imagine this.

You start picking apples at seven in the morning. You've been climbing ladders, carrying bags, working in the sun all day.

• Then at five o'clock, just before quitting time, another worker shows up.

• He works for an hour.

• And when payday comes, he gets exactly the same amount you do.

I don't know about you, but I think I might have something to say about that!

And so do the workers in Jesus' parable.

"These last ones worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us, who bore the day's burden and the heat."

It doesn't seem fair.

But Jesus isn't giving us a lesson in payroll practices.

He's telling us something about God.

The wage in this parable represents something that can't be divided up according to how many hours we've worked.

It is God's grace. It is salvation. It is eternal life.

Someone can know and love God for an entire lifetime.

Someone else might discover God late in life.

And someone else might turn to God with his very last breath.

And God is generous with all of them.

Think about the good thief hanging on the cross next to Jesus.

We don't know much about his life. But at the very end, he turns to Jesus:

"Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."

And Jesus says:

"Today you will be with me in Paradise."

That's the five-o'clock worker.

He arrived when the workday was almost over.

And he received the full gift.

But there is something else about today's Gospel that I find even more beautiful.

The landowner keeps going out.

He goes out at dawn.

He goes out again at nine.

Again at noon.

Again at three.

And then, incredibly, at five o'clock—when there is hardly any workday left—

He goes out again.

Why?

Because he hasn't given up looking.

And I wonder if that tells us something about the people who seem to find God late in life.

We see the moment they finally come into the vineyard.

But we don't see everything that happened before that.

Maybe God had been stirring that person's heart for years.

Maybe there was an invitation at nine o'clock that went unnoticed.

Maybe another at noon that was resisted.

Maybe something happened at three o'clock that planted a seed.

Maybe God had been quietly working in that person's heart all along.

We simply couldn't see it.

Isaiah tells us today:

"My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways."

And as I reflect on my own vocation to the priesthood, I realize how true that is.

I know something about a God who keeps coming back.

When I was younger, I felt called to the priesthood. But I had other plans.

I tried electrical engineering. Then I went into radio.

But the call to priesthood never completely went away.

Eventually, I entered the seminary.

And then, just when I was getting close to ordination, I started having doubts again.

I took a year away from the seminary and went to work as the Director of

Religious Education at St. Alexander's Church in Morrisonville.

And it was there that I rediscovered my vocation.

Looking back now, I can see that God had been at work all along.

He didn't give up on me when I went into engineering.

He didn't give up on me when I went into radio.

And he didn't give up on me when I stepped away from the seminary.

The Landowner just kept coming back.

And here's something I couldn't have imagined back then.

Twenty-five years after my ordination, I'm now the pastor of the very parish where I rediscovered my vocation.

God certainly has a way of bringing things full circle!

And that experience gives me hope when I think about the people we love who seem far away from God.

Maybe it's a son or daughter who stopped practicing the faith years ago.

Maybe it's a brother or sister who wants nothing to do with the Church.

Maybe it's a friend who says he doesn't believe anymore.

Maybe you've prayed for that person for years.

And maybe, if you're honest, you've started to wonder:

"Is anything ever going to change?"

I can't tell you what God is doing in that person's heart.

But I can tell you that God was working in mine, even when I wasn't sure where I was going.

There may be things happening in the hearts of those we love that we know nothing about.

Questions being asked.

Seeds beginning to grow.

Memories coming back.

A longing for something more.

A quiet movement of grace.

We simply don't know.

And that's why we keep praying.

Not because we're trying to convince God to go looking for them.

God is already looking for them.

We pray because we trust that God can reach places in another person's heart that we cannot.

So maybe there is someone in your life you've almost given up on.

Someone you've been praying for.

Someone who seems a long way from the vineyard.

Keep praying.

Keep loving them.

Keep the door open.

Because nine o'clock may have passed.

Noon may have passed.

Three o'clock may have passed.

It may even be five o'clock.

But the Gospel today gives us some very good news:

The Landowner is still going out.

So never give up on someone

God hasn't given up on.