32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time Homily: “Will There Be Enough Oil in Your Lamp?” Gospel: Matthew 25:1–13
What if tomorrow were your last day on earth? Would you be ready to meet Jesus?
In this Sunday's Gospel, Jesus tells the parable of the ten virgins—five wise and five foolish. All were invited to the wedding feast, but only five were prepared when the bridegroom arrived.
Through a moving modern-day story of a man who loses his younger brother unexpectedly, this homily challenges us to examine our own lives and ask an important question: Do I truly have a relationship with Jesus, or have I simply spent my life knowing about Him?
So often, we tell ourselves that we'll pray more, return to confession, forgive someone, or grow closer to God when life slows down. But what if that tomorrow never comes?
Jesus reminds us that faith isn't something we prepare for at the last minute. It's something we nurture every day through prayer, love, forgiveness, and the sacraments.
Don't wait until the end of your life to build the relationship with Jesus that you will need for eternity.
Join me for this reflection on the 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time, and ask yourself one simple question: Is there enough oil in my lamp?
Have you ever said “no” to God? Maybe through anger, fear, pride, disappointment—or simply by walking away.
In Matthew 21:28–32, Jesus reminds us of something incredibly hopeful: your first answer does not have to be your final answer.
No matter how long we’ve been away, how many mistakes we’ve made, or how many times we’ve resisted God’s call, the Father continues to invite us into His vineyard.
You cannot change yesterday. But you can change your answer today.
The Father is still calling. The vineyard is still open. And it is never too late to say, “Yes, Lord. I’ll go.”
25th Sunday in Ordinary Time — It Is Never Too Late for Grace
In today’s Gospel, Jesus reminds us that God’s grace isn’t something we earn—it is a gift. Whether we have followed Him our entire lives or find our way home in the final hour, His mercy is waiting.
If you’ve ever wondered whether you’ve waited too long, wandered too far, or made too many mistakes, this message is for you. With God, there is still time. There is still mercy. There is always a road home.
It Is Never Too Late for Grace
Matthew 20:1–16a
There is something about today's Gospel that bothers us.
If we're willing to admit it, when we hear Jesus tell this parable, part of us wants to say:
“That's not fair.”
Some of those workers got up early.
They worked through the heat of the day.
They were tired. Sweaty. Their backs hurt.
And then there were others who showed up at the very end.
Maybe they worked only an hour.
And when payday came…
they received the same amount.
Come on, Jesus.
How is that fair?
But maybe that's exactly the reaction Jesus wanted.
Because this Gospel isn't really about wages.
It's about grace.
And grace has never been about getting what we deserve.
Grace is about receiving what we could never earn.
I want you to imagine a man named Michael.
Michael grew up Catholic.
He was baptized. Made his First Communion. Was confirmed.
His mother took him to Mass every Sunday.
And when he was young, he believed.
But then life happened.
He went off to college.
Stopped going to Mass.
Got married.
Had children.
Built a career.
And little by little, God disappeared from his life.
One year became five.
Five became ten.
Ten became thirty.
His mother never stopped praying for him.
Whenever he came home, she would gently say,
“Michael, I wish you'd come to Mass with me.”
And Michael would smile.
“Maybe someday, Mom.”
But someday never came.
His mother eventually died.
And standing beside her casket, Michael remembered all those Sundays.
He remembered seeing her rosary sitting beside her chair.
He remembered hearing her whisper his name when she prayed.
But even then, he didn't come back.
Years passed.
Then one afternoon, Michael sat in a doctor's office.
The doctor closed the door.
Sat down across from him.
And said the words none of us ever wants to hear.
“The cancer has spread.”
Suddenly Michael's world became very small.
The career didn't matter.
The bank account didn't matter.
The house didn't matter.
The things he had spent his whole life chasing didn't matter.
And one night, unable to sleep, Michael found himself thinking about God.
He hadn't prayed in decades.
He didn't even know how to begin.
So he whispered:
“God… I don't know if You're still there. I don't know if You still want me. But I'm scared.”
A few days later, Michael drove to a Catholic church.
He sat in his car for almost twenty minutes before he could make himself go inside.
Eventually, he walked through the doors.
The church was nearly empty.
And he saw the red sanctuary lamp burning near the tabernacle.
Something inside him broke.
He sat in the last pew.
And this grown man began to cry.
Not polite tears.
He wept.
Thirty years of regret.
Thirty years of mistakes.
Thirty years of believing that someday he would come home.
Finally, a priest noticed him.
He walked over and sat beside him.
Michael looked at him and said,
“Father, I think I've waited too long.”
And the priest said,
“Too long for what?”
Michael answered,
“For God.”
The priest smiled.
And said:
“Then you don't understand God yet.”
And sometime later, after thirty years away,
Michael went to confession.
Imagine that moment.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…
it has been thirty years since my last confession.”
And when that priest raised his hand and spoke the words of absolution…
Michael came home.
And here's the scandal of today's Gospel:
Michael receives the same Jesus you received this morning.
The same mercy.
The same forgiveness.
The same heaven.
The same love of the Father.
You might have been going to Mass for seventy years.
Michael may have returned seventy days before he died.
And Jesus says:
Welcome home.
That's today's Gospel.
We tend to keep score.
I've served God all these years.
I've gone to Mass.
I've prayed.
I've sacrificed.
I've tried to raise my children in the faith.
I've stayed when others walked away.
And sometimes, without realizing it, we begin thinking God owes us something.
Then someone comes stumbling into the Church after making a mess of his life…
And God embraces him.
Someone who hasn't been to confession in forty years kneels down…
And God forgives her.
Someone who ignored God most of his life turns toward Christ at the very end…
And God opens His arms.
And something inside us says:
“But that's not fair.”
You're right.
It's not.
It's mercy.
And thank God that God isn't fair in the way we sometimes mean fair.
Because if God only gave me what I deserved…
I wouldn't want that.
I need mercy too.
So do you.
Maybe someone here today feels like Michael.
Maybe you have wandered.
Maybe there are things in your life you're ashamed of.
Maybe you haven't been to confession in years.
Maybe your prayer life has disappeared.
Maybe you've been sitting in church thinking:
“If these people really knew me… If God really knew what I've done…”
But He does know.
He knows everything.
And you're still here.
Listen carefully:
You are not too late.
As long as there is breath in your lungs, God is still calling you into His vineyard.
The thief beside Jesus spent his life making terrible decisions.
Yet hanging beside Jesus, he finally said:
“Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
And Jesus didn't say,
“Too late.”
He said:
“Today you will be with me in Paradise.”
That's grace.
But perhaps you're not Michael.
Maybe you're the worker who arrived early.
You've been faithful.
You've been serving.
You've carried crosses nobody knows about.
You've prayed for your family.
You've tried to do the right thing.
Then this Gospel has another message for you:
Don't become resentful because God is generous.
When the prodigal son comes home…
celebrate.
When the alcoholic gets sober…
celebrate.
When the marriage is restored…
celebrate.
When someone walks into confession after thirty years…
celebrate.
And when the son or daughter you've been praying for finally walks through those church doors again…
don't ask where they've been.
Run to them.
Put your arms around them.
And say:
“Welcome home.”
Because that's what the Father does.
Brothers and sisters, someday the sun will begin to set on every one of our lives.
Some of us entered the vineyard early.
Some came at noon.
Some arrived late in the afternoon.
And perhaps someone will come at the final hour.
But when evening comes, there is only one thing that will matter:
Did we finally say yes when the Master called?
Maybe you've been away from God.
Come home.
Maybe you've been carrying a sin for years.
Come to confession.
Maybe you've convinced yourself God could never forgive you.
Let Him surprise you.
Maybe you're praying for a child or grandchild who has walked away from the faith.
Don't stop praying.
Because you don't know what God might do at five o'clock in the afternoon.
You don't know what conversation He might use.
What suffering.
What person.
What memory.
What moment of grace.
You don't know when someone you love might finally whisper:
“God… are You still there?”
And when they do…
they may discover what Michael discovered sitting in the back of that church.
God wasn't standing there looking at His watch saying:
“You're late.”
He was standing there with His arms open saying:
“I've been waiting for you.”
And perhaps that is the most beautiful message of today's Gospel.
With God…
there is still time.
There is still mercy.
There is still forgiveness.
There is still a place in the vineyard.
There is still a seat at the table.
There is still a road home.
So whether you came to Christ at sunrise…
at noon…
or in the final hour…
come.
Because the reward isn't something God places into your hand.
How many times are we supposed to forgive someone who has hurt us? In Matthew 18:21–35, Peter asks Jesus that very question. Jesus’ answer challenges us to stop keeping score and remember how much mercy we ourselves have received.
Forgiveness does not mean pretending the wound didn’t matter. It doesn’t excuse what happened, erase necessary boundaries, or automatically restore trust. Forgiveness means refusing to allow someone else’s actions to control the rest of our lives.
Sometimes the person we need to forgive is another person. Sometimes it is ourselves.
This Sunday, Jesus invites us to put down the weight of resentment, surrender the debt to Him, and discover the freedom that comes from mercy.
“What you did will no longer have the final word in my life. Jesus will.”
✝️ Matthew 18:21–35 The Catholic Journey with Deacon Pat Kearns
