“The Breakfast Club.”  For me, when I hear that title, I immediately think of the 1985 movie. Judd Nelson, Molly Ringwald, Emilio Estevez — the whole Brat Pack thing. Which probably tells you something about my age. For a lot of people today, though, The Breakfast Club means something completely different. It’s this incredibly popular radio show and podcast that interviews musicians, celebrities, athletes, cultural figures. And I have to admit: as a 52-year-old Italian-American Catholic priest from New Jersey, I’m probably not exactly their target demographic. So I can’t pretend I’m a regular listener.

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But this week, a clip from the show started making the rounds online, and when I saw what they were arguing about, it definitely got my attention. Because somehow The Breakfast Club was having a debate about heaven and hell.

A rapper named Dee-1, who is very public about his Christian faith, was being interviewed. And at one point the conversation turned to comments he had made about some famous rappers who had died – questioning where they might have ended up eternally based on the lives they had lived and the things they publicly promoted.

And suddenly everybody around that table was debating: Can you say somebody is in hell?  How do you know what was really in somebody’s heart? What if they repented at the last moment? What if somebody talks about God publicly but lives completely differently privately? What actually gets somebody into heaven? And the conversation got pretty heated.

What fascinated me most wasn’t even who made the better argument. It was how uncomfortable everybody became. Because we’re pretty comfortable talking about God when God is inspiring. We’re comfortable saying, “God blessed me.” “God has a plan for me.” “Everything happens for a reason.” “God knows my heart.”

We like heaven. We like mercy. We like forgiveness.

But the minute somebody says, “Okay, but if heaven is real, is hell real? If Jesus is really Lord, does it actually matter how we respond to Him?” Suddenly things get uncomfortable. Because now Christianity isn’t simply inspirational. It’s consequential.

If Jesus Christ is who He says He is, then the choices I make matter. How I live matters. Whether I repent matters. Whether I actually follow Him matters.

It’s true that we have to be extremely careful about declaring some particular person is in hell. We don’t know the entirety of another person’s heart. We don’t know what happened between that person and God in the final moments of his or her life. Final judgment belongs to God, not us.  And so I understood where some of the tension that this discussion caused and I have absolutely no interest this morning in trying to figure out the eternal destiny of Tupac, any other celebrity or any one for that matter.

But part of the reason I think people get so defensive and uncomfortable even in the hypotheticals and debates that veer into public figures, is because Jesus takes this Gospel in a much more uncomfortable direction.

Because Jesus basically says: Stop worrying about which son somebody else is.  Which son are you?

Jesus tells this ridiculously simple story. A father has two sons. He says to the first one: “Go out and work in the vineyard today.” And the son basically says: “No.” Not exactly subtle. No excuses. No pretending. “No. I’m not doing it.” But later he changes his mind. And he goes. Then the father goes to the second son. “Go work in the vineyard.” And this guy gives the perfect religious answer: “Yes, sir.” Respectful. Polite. Exactly what you’re supposed to say. “Yes, sir.” And then he doesn’t go.

So Jesus asks the chief priests and elders: “Which of the two did his father’s will?” That’s not exactly a difficult question – The first one. And that’s when Jesus drops the bomb: “Tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the Kingdom of God before you.” You have to understand how offensive that would have sounded. He’s speaking to the religious leaders. These are people who knew Scripture. They knew the commandments. They worshiped. They prayed. They knew all the right answers. If anybody looked like the “yes, sir” son, it was them. And Jesus says that tax collectors and prostitutes are getting into the Kingdom ahead of them. Why? Not because Jesus suddenly decides sin doesn’t matter. It’s exactly the opposite. The tax collectors and prostitutes knew they needed to change when St. John the Baptist preached repentance. They heard him. And some of them responded. Their lives had said “no” to God. But then they changed their minds. And more importantly, they changed their hearts.  They turned around. They went into the vineyard.

Meanwhile the religious leaders had spent their entire lives saying: “Yes, Lord.” “Yes, Lord.” “Yes, Lord.” But when God actually stood in front of them and called them to conversion… they wouldn’t move.

And that’s where this Gospel gets very close to home for people like us. Because most of us are probably not walking around saying: “I reject God.” Most of us aren’t atheists. We’re at Mass. We’re Catholic. A lot of us were baptized as babies. Maybe we went to Catholic school or CCD.  Received all our sacraments.  Some of us wear a crucifix carry a rosary.  Maybe we’ve got a Bible app on our phone.  Maybe we pray. Maybe our social media has a scripture verse of a little cross in it.

“Yes, sir.” “Yes, Lord.” “Yes, Jesus.”

And Jesus says: Okay. But did you go into the vineyard? That’s the question.

Because it is possible to say yes to Jesus with our lips and no to Him with our lives. “Of course I’m Catholic.” But I haven’t been to confession in years because there are things I’m not willing to surrender. “Of course I believe in Jesus.” But there’s somebody I absolutely refuse to forgive. “God is first in my life.” But prayer gets whatever five minutes are left over after everything else.

“I know what the Church teaches.” But when it conflicts with what I want, suddenly I become my own pope, theologian and biblical scholar. “I want a relationship centered on God.” But then I make choices in that relationship that I already know are pulling both of us away from Him. “I’d never hurt anybody.” But I’ll gossip about somebody, destroy their reputation, screenshot their private messages, tear them apart in the group chat. “Yes, Lord.” “Yes, Lord.” “Yes, Lord.”

Jesus isn’t asking whether we know how to say it. He’s asking whether our lives mean it. And that’s why the first reading from Ezekiel is so important. The people are complaining to God: “The Lord’s way is not fair!” And God basically responds: What’s unfair about it? If a good person turns away from goodness and chooses evil, that matters. But if someone who has been living badly recognizes it, turns around and starts doing what is right – he shall live.

Think about what that means. Your past isn’t a guarantee in either direction. Yesterday’s yes doesn’t give me permission to say no today. But yesterday’s no does not prevent me from saying yes today. That’s incredibly challenging. But it’s also incredibly hopeful.

Because some of us carry around things from our past that we think define us. The worst thing I’ve done. The relationship I messed up. The addiction I’ve struggled with. The choices I made freshman year. The person I became for a while. The thing I hope nobody ever finds out about me. And God says: That doesn’t have to be the end of your story.

The first son said no. But his no wasn’t the final word. He changed his mind. He went into the vineyard. And the father didn’t say, ‘Too late. I heard what you said before.’ The internet might never forget. People might never forget. Sometimes we don’t even let ourselves forget. But God says: Change your mind. Come back. Let’s go. That’s what repentance is. And honestly, that’s what happens every time we go to confession. Every confession begins with us admitting: Father, I said no. God asked something of me, and I said no. I knew what He wanted and chose something else. I knew what was right and did the opposite. I knew what I shouldn’t do and did it anyway. I said no.

And God says: Then change your mind. Receive my mercy. Get up. Go into the vineyard.

Which brings us back to that debate on The Breakfast Club. Because there are two mistakes we can make when we start talking about heaven and hell. One is deciding that we know exactly who is damned. That’s God’s judgment, not ours.

But the other mistake may be much more common today: Assuming that because God is merciful, nothing really matters. “I was baptized.” “I’m Catholic.” “I believe in God.” “I’m basically a good person.” “God knows my heart.” So I’m good.

But that’s actually something the Catholic tradition calls presumption – expecting God’s mercy without conversion. Because God absolutely knows my heart. That’s true. But sometimes we say “God knows my heart” as if that’s supposed to end the conversation. Jesus might respond: Exactly.  He does. He knows every excuse. Every rationalization. Every place where I have said “yes, Lord” while quietly deciding: “Except for this.”

And notice what Jesus does not say in today’s Gospel. He doesn’t say the first son earned his father’s love because he finally went to work. This isn’t salvation by being good enough.

That’s where our second reading becomes so important. Saint Paul says: “Have in you the same attitude that is also in Christ Jesus.” And then he describes Jesus: He emptied Himself. He humbled Himself. He became obedient. Obedient even unto death. Death on a cross.

In other words, there is another Son in these readings.  Jesus.   The Son whose “yes” to the Father was complete. The Son whose words and actions perfectly matched. The Son who didn’t simply say He loved us. He went to the Cross. That’s the Christian life. Not saving ourselves by being better behaved. But letting Jesus Christ transform us so completely that His yes becomes our yes. His obedience becomes our obedience. His love begins showing up in the way we actually live.

That’s why baptism matters. That’s why the Eucharist matters. That’s why confession matters. That’s why prayer matters. They’re not religious to-do lists that we need to complete to convince ourselves we’re okay. They are encounters with Jesus Christ who gives us the grace to become the people we could never become by ourselves.

So maybe the question coming out of that viral debate shouldn’t be: “Who’s going to hell?” Maybe the question should be:  Where is my life headed?   Where am I saying “yes, Lord” with my mouth while saying “no” with my choices? What have I gotten comfortable excusing? What is Jesus asking me to change? What do I already know He’s asking me to do that I keep putting off? Forgive somebody? End something? Start something? Go to confession? Come back to Mass consistently? Stop sleeping with somebody I’m not married to? Deal honestly with an addiction?  Stop pretending that something isn’t controlling me?  Make Jesus more than one part of my life and actually make Him Lord of my life?

Because here’s the beautiful part of today’s Gospel: It is not too late to change your answer.  Maybe you’ve spent a long time saying no. Maybe you’ve made a mess of things.  Maybe if you looked honestly at your life right now, you’d have to admit: “Father, I’m not living the way I know God is calling me to live.”

Okay.

Then you’re the first son. And the story isn’t over. Change your mind. Get up. Go. Because God isn’t asking you this morning whether you have always gotten the answer right. He’s asking you what your answer is now.  And someday, yes, every one of us will stand before Jesus Christ.

Heaven is real. Hell is real. Judgment is real. We shouldn’t pretend otherwise. But today isn’t Judgment Day. Today is vineyard day. Today Jesus is still calling. Today mercy is still being offered. Today confession is still available. Today conversion is still possible. Today you can change your answer.

So maybe instead of spending our time trying to figure out who else might be in heaven or who might be in hell… we should ask the much more important question: Does my life actually say yes to Jesus? Because in the end, Jesus isn’t looking for people who simply learned how to say the right things about God. He wants disciples whose lives have become a yes.

So don’t waste today trying to decide who’s in hell. Ask Jesus to make your life a yes.