Tuesday of the 3rd Week of Advent

Today we are challenged: will we only speak faith, or will we actually go and live it.

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, dear friends, Advent is a season of waiting, but it is not a season of delay. It is meant to move us. It asks whether our faith stays on our lips or finds its way into our lives.

Our first reading comes from the prophet Zephaniah. Zephaniah speaks to Jerusalem, a city that knows the language of God but no longer listens. The charge is simple and painful. They do not listen. They do not accept correction. They do not trust the Lord. This is not rebellion with clenched fists. It is the quiet refusal of people who are comfortable where they are.

Yet God does not abandon them. Zephaniah’s name means “the Lord protects”, and that promise holds. God speaks of a future where speech itself is purified, where people call on the Lord together, shoulder to shoulder. What remains, God says, will be a humble and lowly people who seek refuge in him. Advent hope is not built on success or status. It belongs to those who know their need.

The Psalm continues that same voice. “This poor man called, and the Lord heard him.” These words come from a moment when David was afraid and on the run. Praise here is not neat or confident. It rises out of fear and need. The psalm keeps returning to the same truth. The Lord hears the cry of the poor. The Lord is close to the broken-hearted.

That matters where we live. In Zimbabwe today, many people carry heavy loads. Rising costs, weak services, young people with education but no work, families stretched thin. For many, faith is not an idea. It is survival. This psalm tells them, and us, that God is not far away. God is close to those who have little left except hope.

The Gospel from Matthew brings us into the Temple courtyard. Jesus is still facing the chief priests and elders. They have questioned his authority. He does not argue back. He tells a story.

A father asks his two sons to work in the vineyard. One says no, but later goes. The other says yes, very politely, even respectfully. The word he uses can mean “Lord”. But he does not go.

For those listening, the shock is strong. Good sons say yes. Good sons obey. But Jesus turns the story upside down. The first son changes his mind. The Greek word suggests regret, a turning born of discomfort. It is not perfect repentance, but it is real movement. The second son has the right words and the right tone, but no action.

Then Jesus sharpens the point. Tax collectors and prostitutes believed John the Baptist. They changed direction. They stepped into the water and began again. The religious leaders watched all this and stayed still. They spoke well about God, but they did not move.

Advent does not let us hide behind fine words. It asks a simple question. Which son am I today.

This is where Ignatian prayer helps us. St Ignatius asks us to imagine the scene. See the father’s face. Hear the tone of each son. Notice which one feels closer to your own life. In the Spiritual Exercises, change begins with honesty. Not with big plans, but with clear sight. Where am I resisting. Where am I delaying. Where am I saying yes with my mouth and no with my feet.

The readings press gently but firmly on our conscience. It is easy to talk about justice, dignity, and care for the poor. It is harder to act when it costs us time, comfort, or security. It is easier to approve good ideas than to stand with people who are ignored or pushed aside. Yet God’s vineyard is worked by those who show up, not those who sound impressive.

In our local context, this might mean more than sympathy. It might mean practical support for families in need, honest work for the common good, speaking truth without fear, and refusing small corruptions that eat away at trust. Faith that stays private and polite does not heal much. Faith that steps forward, even clumsily, can change lives.

Advent prepares us for Jesus, who will not flatter us. He comes as a child, poor and vulnerable, and he will grow into a man who walks dusty roads and calls people to follow him. Not to admire him. To follow him.

So the message today is not complicated. God is patient. God is merciful. God welcomes those who turn back, even late. But God does ask us to go.

As we approach the Eucharist, we ask for the grace to let our faith move from words to action, from intention to practice, from promise to obedience. Advent is short. The vineyard is waiting.

As you pray with these readings this week, you might ask yourself:

• Where in my life am I saying the right things to God but avoiding real change?
• Who nearby needs more than my concern, and what simple action is within my reach?
• When I look back over my day, where did I stay still, and where did I, even reluctantly, choose to go?