Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,
In 1990, when I was a teenager in Vietnam, my family made the decision to immigrate to the United States as political refugees. Everyone was preparing to leave, but I had already made up my mind: I was not going. Vietnam was home. My family, my friends, my parish, my language, my culture—everything familiar and dear to me was there. America was a country I did not
know, with a language I did not speak and a future I could not imagine. Why would I leave everything I knew for something so uncertain? So I refused, even knowing that my decision could create serious difficulties for the rest of my family.
Then my parish priest asked to speak with me. We had a long and serious conversation. I do not remember everything he said, but he challenged me to look beyond what I was afraid of losing and to consider what I could not yet see. I changed my mind and came to America with my family.
Looking back now, I sometimes wonder: What if I had not changed my mind? I thought I was simply deciding whether to leave one country for another. I could not have known the people I would meet, the doors that would open, or the path by which God would eventually lead me to the priesthood. None of that was visible to the teenager who said, “I am not going.”
Perhaps that is why one little sentence in this Sunday’s Gospel speaks so powerfully to me. A father asks his son to work in his vineyard (cf. Matthew 21:28-32). The son answers, “I will not.” Yet afterward, Jesus tells us, “he changed his mind and went.” He changed his mind—and his story changed with it.
How many things in our lives might change if we were humble enough to reconsider some of our “no’s”? “I will never forgive that person.” “I am not going back to Confession.” “My child will never return to the Church.” “It is too late for me to begin again.” “This is a lost cause.” Or perhaps simply, “I can’t do this.” We can repeat these things for so long that they begin to sound like facts. Yet perhaps they are fear, hurt, pride, or discouragement speaking. Perhaps they are places where God is still asking us to trust Him.
The prophet Ezekiel reminds us in the First Reading of this Sunday that God never reduces us to our past (cf. Ezekiel 18:25-28). A person can turn around. A sinner can begin again. A heart can change. With God, yesterday’s “no” does not have to become tomorrow’s answer.
Yet there is another son in Jesus’ parable. He immediately says, “Yes, sir,” but never goes. Perhaps this son should make those of us who practice our faith a little uncomfortable. We know how to say yes to God. We say “Amen.” We profess the Creed. We receive the Eucharist. We pray, “Thy will be done.” Yet Jesus asks something more demanding: Did you go? Did the Gospel change how you treated someone this week? Did receiving mercy make you more merciful? When you prayed, “Thy will be done,” were you willing to surrender your own will?
Saint Paul tells us in this Sunday’s Second Reading what a true yes looks like: “Have in you the same attitude that is also in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 2:1-11). Christ did not merely speak His yes to the Father. He lived it, humbling Himself and becoming obedient even to the Cross.
So I would like to leave you with one question to carry into this week: What is God asking of me today? Perhaps it is to forgive someone, return to the Sacraments, repair a relationship, let go of something, or answer a call we have resisted because somewhere deep inside we keep saying, “I can’t do this.”
Many years ago, I could see only what I was leaving behind, not what God had placed ahead of me. Perhaps some of you are there today. Faith does not mean seeing the whole road; it means trusting the One who does. So when God is changing your heart, do not be afraid to change your mind. Your “no” does not have to be the final word. Sometimes an entire future begins with one courageous “yes.”
With you in prayer,
Msgr. “John” Cuong M. Pham