The Parable of the Two Sons

Matthew 21: 28-32

“What is your opinion? A man had two sons. He came to the first and said, ‘Son, go out and work in the vineyard today.’ He said in reply, ‘I will not,’ but afterwards he changed his mind and went. The man came to the other son and gave the same order. He said in reply, “Yes, sir,’ but did not go. Which of the two did his father’s will?” They answered, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Amen, I say to you, tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God before you. When John came to you in the way of righteousness, you did not believe him; but tax collectors and prostitutes did. Yet even when you saw that, you did not later change your minds and believe him.

Discussion Questions:

1. As you reflect on your life, which of the two brothers do you find yourself identifying with more often? What does that recognition reveal about your relationship with God?
2. When you contrast your intentions with your actions, where might you discover yourself saying “no” to God in your life?
3. We all have a “professed theology” and an “operating theology.” Our professed theology is what we say we believe; our operating theology is what our lives sometimes reveal that we actually believe. How do you become aware of the gap between the two, and what helps you bring your daily life more fully into alignment with what you say you believe?
4. Can you remember a time when you thought you knew what God was asking of you, but later came to see the situation differently? What helped you become open to another possibility?
5. Where do you sense God inviting you to “work in the vineyard” right now? Who or what is God placing before you that may be asking for your time, attention, generosity, or service?

Biblical Context

Sr. Mary McGlone CSJ

As we follow Matthew’s Gospel, the Lectionary skips over Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem and moves us directly into his final teachings. We are now in the final section of the Gospel, so we can imagine the teachings we will be hearing from now until the end of the year as taking place during Holy Week.

Jesus tells today’s parable immediately after a debate with the chief priests and elders. When they challenged his authority, Jesus asked them to make a public statement about their opinion of John the Baptist. When they refused to be trapped into telling the truth, Jesus refused to answer their questions about himself. He told this parable instead.

Jesus addressed the parable to the very folks who had avoided his question about John. This time they got caught in his trap; they listened to the parable and ended up with no decent escape from his final question. A parable of a man with two sons started them off in familiar territory — that plotline had begun with Adam and went through Abraham and Isaac and on through their own experience. It could have even resonated with the comparison of John and Jesus. But, Jesus took the idea and developed it in his own style, making the turning point the punch that would expose the real situation of his audience.

If we interpret the parable in its cultural context it is more complex than it appears at first glance.

Culturally, the first son was a rude rebel. In a society where saving face was highly valued, the son who said “I will not,” wounded his father’s dignity and shattered his family’s reputation. He effectively put himself outside the family circle. In contrast, the second son honored the father, even to the point of addressing him as “lord.” Any observer would have seen that son as exceeding the ideal of filial respect.

Then comes the twist. The deferential son had only a veneer of respect for his father. He might keep things pleasant in the house, but the family business would fall apart under his do-nothing lifestyle. The insolent son actually demonstrated more family commitment than his hypocritical brother. Far from perfect, he was the one who repented. (The word translated as “changed his mind” is translated as repent in other passages and comes from the same root as metanoia.)

With this parable, Jesus pointed out the distinction between what might be called orthodoxy and orthopraxis, between saying the right thing and doing the right thing. His implication was that saying the right thing, following the rubrics, can become nothing more than a façade, leaving a people who look good but accomplish nothing for God. In contrast, doing the right thing will lead to understanding what is right and being able to say it as well.

The Vineyard of the Heart Moving past our polite refusals

Reflection adapted from: Fr. Rohr and Fr. Ron Rolheiser

Jesus asks a hauntingly simple question at the beginning of today’s Gospel: “What is your opinion?”

When we read the story of the two sons, our natural human instinct is to immediately take a side. We look at the first son, rebellious, blunt, and disrespectful, who snaps, “I will not go,” and we cringe at his bad manners. Then we look at the second son, who politely says, “Yes, sir,” and we approve of his respectfulness. We like politeness. We like people who say the right things because it keeps the surface of life smooth and comfortable.

But Jesus completely upends our societal standards. He reveals that the second son’s “yes” was a ghost. It cost him nothing to say it, and it resulted in nothing being done.

If we are honest, most of us who sit in church pews or try to live a spiritual life are deeply vulnerable to the trap of the second son. We are highly educated in the vocabulary of love, compassion, and justice. We pray the prayers, we nod during the homilies, and we outwardly agree with God’s blueprint for the world. But as Fr. Richard Rohr frequently warns us, the human ego loves the reputation of being good far more than the actual work of transformation. A polite “yes” can easily become a psychological defense mechanism. By saying the right words, we convince ourselves that we are faithful, successfully masking the fact that our feet have never actually stepped into the messy dirt of the vineyard.

What is the vineyard? The vineyard is reality. It is the real-world arena where we are asked to actually forgive the person who broke our heart, to share our wealth with those who have less, and to dismantle our hidden prejudices.

This is where the spiritual wisdom of the first son becomes a lifeline for us. Why did he say “I will not”? Because he was being honest. He felt the heavy, resistant weight of his own selfishness. He didn’t want to give up his day, his comfort, or his energy for his father’s project.

Fr. Ronald Rolheiser often observes that real spiritual growth cannot begin until we stop lying to ourselves about our internal resistance. The first son didn’t pretend to be holier than he was. Yet, the Gospel tells us that “afterward he changed his mind and went.” In the quiet space of his own honesty, grace found him. He looked at his own defiance, felt the sorrow of his separation from his father, and allowed his heart to break open.

This is the secret of the kingdom: God can do a lot with a messy, broken “No” that eventually turns into a surrendered “Yes.” But God can do almost nothing with a polite, superficial “Yes” that never leaves the couch.

Jesus concludes with a statement that must have absolutely scandalized the religious leaders of his day: “Tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God before you.”

Why them? Not because their sins were good, but because their brokenness left them entirely transparent. They had no illusions of righteousness left to protect. Like the first son, they knew exactly how far they had wandered from the vineyard. Having hit rock bottom, they had no energy left to maintain a false front. When they encountered the love of God, they didn’t offer a polite, calculated response; they threw their entire lives into the soil of transformation.

Ultimately, Jesus is inviting us to abandon our spiritual masks. He is asking us to look at the areas in our lives where we have given a cheap “Yes” to God but kept our hearts entirely behind closed doors. He is telling us that it is okay if our initial response to his call is fear, anger, or resistance—as long as we allow grace to have the final word.

The Father is standing at the edge of the vineyard today, looking at us with unconditional love, asking us to step out of our opinions and into the dirt.

Adapted from the works of Fr. Richard Rohr, Catholic Franciscan priest, author, and teacher, and Fr. Ronald Rolheiser, a Catholic Missionary Oblate priest, theologian, and author.