Jesus is in Jerusalem by now. He has made his
triumphal entry into the Holy City and has begun to teach in the temple. And there
immediately start disputes between him and the religious leaders—in this case
the chief priests and the elders of the people. Among the controversies, Jesus
tells three polemical parables. We have read today the first of them; we will
read the other two on the following Sundays.
The parable of the two sons is peculiar to
Matthew. Maybe we could find something similar in the parable of the prodigal
son: even in that case there are two sons, who, more or less, behave like the
two sons of today’s parable. The setting of this parable is identical with the
one of the parable we heard last Sunday: in both cases a vineyard is mentioned.
The difference is that a week ago the master invited some workers to go into
his vineyard in exchange for a wage; in this case instead it is the father who
simply orders his sons to go and work in the vineyard.
The point of the parable is that one of the
sons says that he will not go, but afterwards he repents and goes (paenitentia motus abiit); the other
one, instead, replies yes, and then he does not go. What does it mean? Even in
this case, like on last Sunday, there are different layers of meaning. On
Jesus’ lips, the first son represents tax collectors and prostitutes, that is
to say, sinners, who at first rebel against God, but then they repent and do
God’s will; the second son precisely pictures the religious leaders, who show
themselves faithful to God, but actually are not. Asking the chief priests and
the elders which of the two sons did the father’s will, Jesus forces them to
condemn themselves. The problem is that, unlike sinners, who know they need
repentance, religious leaders think to be righteous, and so they do not feel
the need of repentance.
Matthew, including this parable in his gospel,
perhaps extends its meaning. We could see in the first son the pagans, who at
first had said no to God, but then, at the preaching of the apostles, were
converting to the gospel; unlike the Jews, who, after obeying God in the old
testament, now were refusing to believe in Christ. Even in this case the
problem of the Jews is that they consider themselves the chosen people of God,
and so not in need of conversion; while Jesus’ call “Repent, and believe in the
gospel” applies to everyone—Jews and Gentiles.
Of course, there is a third layer of meaning:
we can read the parable as referring to ourselves. The Catechism of the
Catholic Church helps us to understand this parable: to enter the kingdom
of God, it says, “Words are not enough; deeds are required” (n. 546). As Jesus declares
in another passage of the gospel, “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’
will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my
Father in heaven” (Mt 7:21). Christianity is not a question of words, but of
deeds. It is true that we are just poor people, who not always are able to
carry out their purposes; and it is true that, before God, what matters is the
intention. But it is also true that the road to hell is paved with good
intentions; good intentions are not enough, if they are not followed by our
efforts. Maybe, more often than not our efforts are doomed to failure, but at
least we have done our best. And that is what matters before God. Good
intentions and beautiful words without commitment are useless. The only thing
that really matters before God is to do—or at least to try to do—his will. “Whoever
does the will of God remains forever” (1Jn 2:17).
Q
