Homily for the Twenty Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

September 20, 2026

Several years ago, a group of salesmen went to a regional convention in Chicago. They assured their wives that they would be home in plenty of time for Friday’s supper.

One thing led to another and the meeting ran overtime, so the men had to race to the airport, tickets in hand. As they barged through the terminal, one man inadvertently kicked over a table supporting a basket of apples. Without stopping they all reached the plane in time and boarded it with feelings of relief. All but one. He paused, got in touch with his feelings, and experienced a twinge of compassion for the girl whose apple-stand had been overturned. He waved goodbye to his companions and returned to the terminal. He was glad he did. The ten-year-old girl was blind.

The salesman gathered up the apples and noticed that several of them were battered and bruised. He reached into his wallet and said to the girl, “Here, please take this ten dollars for the damage we did. I hope it didn’t spoil your day.”

As the salesman started to walk away, the bewildered girl called out to him, “Are you Jesus?”

Imagine that. One act of kindness out of perhaps thousands of people who rushed past the girl with apples. Just one act of kindness, and she thought it was Jesus. You can just imagine what the rest of her day, and the rest of her life, might have been like.

In Jesus’ story in today’s gospel, we have the owner of the vineyard going to the place where those looking for work gathered. What I want to focus on is that the owner went back, not once, but several times: nine o’clock, three o’clock, five o’clock. He reminds me of Jesus, going back—teaching, preaching, healing—time after time, day after day. Opening his heart to whomever needed him. He gathered sinners, and those wounded by life; he invited Matthew, a hated tax-collector, to be one of his followers; he dared to touch lepers and heal them. Even at the last hour, when Jesus was crucified, and one of the thieves asked him to remember him in his Kingdom, Jesus promised, “This day you will be with me in paradise.”

Now, what adds a crucial dimension to the story is that those who worked all day long considered themselves superior, because they had earned the money, working all day in the heat. They deserved a full-day’s pay for a full-day’s work. But these others, the Johnnies-come-lately, then are given a full-day’s pay for only one hour’s work. Where’s the justice in that?

The owner’s response is key: justice is taken care of; those who worked all day got their agreed upon pay. But the owner’s main point is that he’s not acting out of strict justice or economic theory. He’s acting out of generosity, compassion, forgiveness and mercy—just as Jesus was doing. Going back, again and again, to gather the lost and forsaken, making them full citizens of the vineyard, God’s kingdom.

Think about it: if we followed the argument of those who worked all day, and considered themselves superior—in strict justice, they should be the only ones who were fortunate enough to make it into God’s kingdom. And Jesus is saying: Sorry, that’s not how it works.

So, what does that mean for us? Is there someone who dragged your name through the mud years ago and you’re still angry about it? Did you go through a painful divorce, and you’re still so bitter you could wish your former spouse dead? Did someone cheat you out of your fair share of the family inheritance, and you’ve held onto that anger ever since? Did someone you love die unexpectedly, and you have been upset with God?

Yes, there’s a lot of injustice and unfairness in the world. And a lot of needless pain and heartache and disappointment! Our world is not equally just.  But Jesus is changing that. His love is not about strict justice. It’s about going back, over and over again, to gather more people into God’s kingdom, constantly seeking, continually calling, because that’s the way God is: generous, kind and forgiving, especially to those who are treated unfairly and unjustly. And we are called to imitate such love.

Here’s my bottom line on this gospel. I’m not so sure of myself that I would want God to judge me strictly on the basis of justice. I’m counting on God’s merciful love and forgiveness.