Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, there is a question hidden beneath this Sunday’s readings which is: “After everything God has given me, what fruit is my life producing?”

The prophet Isaiah gives us the beautiful but painful image of a vineyard. Isaiah was preaching in the eighth century before Christ, during a period when Judah enjoyed a measure of prosperity, but beneath that prosperity there was injustice, inequality and religious unfaithfulness. The vineyard owner does everything possible, he chooses fertile ground, clears the stones, plants choice vines, builds a tower and prepares a winepress. Yet when harvest comes, the vineyard produces only sour grapes. Then Isaiah reveals the meaning that the vineyard is God’s people. God had loved them, formed them and provided for them but instead of justice and righteousness, their society was producing violence and oppression. The tragedy is not that the vineyard produces nothing; it produces the wrong fruit.

Jesus deliberately takes up this familiar image in the Gospel. He is now in Jerusalem, approaching his Passion and speaking particularly to the chief priests and elders. Once again there is a vineyard but this time the problem is the tenants. The owner sends servants to collect the produce but the tenants beat some and kill others. Finally, he sends his son, thinking “They will respect my son,” instead they kill him too. The servants recall the prophets whom God repeatedly sent to Israel; the beloved son points towards Jesus himself and the rejection that will lead to Calvary. But we must be careful not to hear this Gospel simply as a condemnation of people who lived two thousand years ago. Jesus is speaking to every generation entrusted with God’s vineyard. The Church herself must therefore hear this Gospel as an examination of conscience.

God has entrusted us with a vineyard such as our life, our family, our faith, our parish, our community, our gifts, our resources and the people placed in our care. We are tenants, not owners. And one of the great temptations of our age is to live as though everything belongs to us as we usually say my body, my money, my time, my talents, my position, even my faith, to be used entirely according to my wishes. That mentality can enter the Church as well. A parish can become more concerned about maintaining buildings than building disciples. We can preserve traditions while losing charity. We can attend Mass faithfully while refusing to forgive. We can speak passionately about Christian values while ignoring the lonely person next door, the struggling family, the elderly person who receives few visitors, the migrant who feels unwelcome or the young person quietly losing hope. God does not simply ask whether the vineyard still exists; he asks whether it is bearing fruit.

And what fruit does God seek? Isaiah gives the answer, we must bear the fruits of justice and righteousness. Jesus speaks elsewhere of mercy, love and faithfulness. St Paul adds another dimension that whatever is true, honourable, just, pure, lovely and gracious, “think about these things.” In a society saturated with anxiety, outrage, endless scrolling, suspicion and negativity, Christians must be careful about what we allow to cultivate the vineyard of our minds. What we repeatedly consume eventually shapes what we become.

This Sunday therefore asks each of us important question that: “If God came looking for the fruits of everything he has invested in me, what would he find?” After all the Masses I have attended, the Scriptures I have heard, the Holy Communions I have received, the forgiveness I have experienced and the years God has given me, am I becoming more loving, more merciful, more generous and more Christ-like? The Gospel ends with hope. “The stone rejected by the builders has become the cornerstone.” Human rejection does not defeat God. Christ, rejected and crucified, becomes the foundation of a new creation. So perhaps our prayer this week should be very simple: Lord, you have planted much in me. Do not allow your gifts to remain fruitless. Cultivate my heart, prune what must be removed and make my life bear the fruit for which you planted me. Amen.