Before I begin, let me make one thing clear: I love this parish too much to stand at this ambo and feed you comfortable lies. What God has placed on my heart today isn’t polite, and it isn’t gentle. It convicts me just as much as it challenges every single person sitting in these pews. Truth spoken in love sometimes stings, but a shepherd’s job is to pull the sheep out of the ditch, even if the grab hurts. So, open your hearts, because Jesus is calling all of us to real, uncompromising accountability today.

I have spent an entire lifetime in service—in military uniform, in law enforcement, and now at this altar. My duty now is to get you to heaven. And if there is one hard, unshakeable truth that four decades on the front lines will burn into your soul, it is this: talk is cheap. In the real world, nobody gives a damn about what you said you were going to do. When the call comes in, when people are hurting, when the mission is on the line, words without action are nothing but hot air coming out of your mouth. Don’t tell me what you believe. Don’t tell me your good intentions. Show me. Put your boots on the ground and show me. Love is action.

That is the exact, brutal reality check Jesus drops on the religious establishment in today’s Gospel. He lays out two sons. The second son has all the right manners, the proper religious pedigree, and the polite church smile: “Yes, sir.” He talks a big game. He checks every outward social box. But his boots never touch the mud of the vineyard. He didn’t do a single thing he promised. And the prophet Ezekiel makes it crystal clear that God does not grade on a curve of past reputation, titles, or pious excuses. If you stand there professing righteousness while living a lie, you are dead in your tracks. God has zero patience for hollow lip-service, and neither should we.

Then Christ points to the first son. That son wasn’t polished. He wasn’t polite. He snapped back: “I will not.” He pushed back, he made the wrong call, and he failed right out of the gate. But the truth struck his conscience. He swallowed his stubborn pride, changed his mind, repented, and went out into the dirt and did the hard labor. And Jesus looks those high-and-mighty chief priests right in the eyes and delivers the verdict: the tax collectors and the prostitutes—the broken, messy sinners who actually listened, repented, and changed direction—are kicking down the doors of the Kingdom of God ahead of the church folks who smile, nod, and do nothing. As Dominicans, our motto is Veritas—Truth! But truth isn’t an academic theory you debate in an air-conditioned room. Truth is a fire that demands conversion and demands sweat.

And let’s call it what it is: too many people treat their faith like a cafeteria line. They stroll through the teachings of Christ and pick out the blessings, the forgiveness, and the easy grace, while sliding right past obedience, self-denial, accountability, and the hard commands of the Gospel. You don’t get to pick and choose which parts of Jesus you follow. Christ never said, “Take up your cross when it fits your schedule or aligns with your personal preferences.” He demanded everything. You cannot demand the privileges of being a son or daughter in the Father’s house if you refuse to step foot in His vineyard. You are either all in with Christ, or you are just standing on the sidelines playing church.

Look at our Lord Jesus Christ in Paul’s letter to the Philippians. He didn’t sit high and mighty in the comfort of heaven offering us inspirational slogans from a safe distance. He stripped Himself of His glory. He took the form of a servant. He put Himself in the dirt, took the cross on His bleeding shoulders, and was obedient even unto death. Calvary wasn’t a speech, it was raw, sacrificial, agonizing action. Jesus didn’t just say He loved us; He drove the nails through His own hands to prove it.

We cannot come into this church, raise our hands in praise, sing modern worship songs, receive the very Body and Blood of Christ, and then walk out those double doors into the parking lot and live like practical atheists until next Sunday. If your faith does not change how you treat your spouse, how you handle your business, how you stand up for the weak, and how you get down in the trenches to serve the hurting, then your religion is completely useless. Faith without boots-on-the-ground execution is stone-cold dead.

So look yourself in the mirror right now and cut through every excuse: are you doing lip service, or are you doing what it takes to get yourself and others to the Kingdom of Heaven?