You have probably heard of the nineteenth century English author, Oscar Wilde. He is best known for his novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and a play which continues to be popular, The Importance of Being Earnest. In addition to his literay achievements, the name might rings a bell because Oscar Wilde went to prison for a crime that the Victorians called “gross indecency.” From his trial comes the phrase: “the love that dare not speak its name.” In spite of his fame (or notoriety) few people know that, on his deathbed, his friends called for a priest to give him the last rites.* Oscar Wilde had a lifelong attraction to Catholicism and in the end he received the sacraments of salvation.

No one knows the state of another person’s soul. Still, I believe that Oscar Wilde was like the first son in today’s Gospel, the one who told his father that he would not go into the vineyard, but later changed his mind. Recent biographies** of the great author indicate that he experienced another kind of “love which dares not speak its name.” As a priest I have noticed that many people, especially men, have a very difficult time expressing their feelings about God. In the case of Oscar Wilde, it was not a matter of being tongue tied. He seldom lacked a ready response.*** Yet, he was shy when it came to the subject of faith. Nevertheless, his preocupation with God's judgment broke through in his writings.

In The Picture of Dorian Gray, he tells about a man who envies his own portrait because it will not grow old. He wants to remain always young and handsome like a picture. By some unknown power, his wish is granted. Because he is so outwardly attractive, Dorian Gray is able to take advantage of other people, even causing a young woman to commit suicide. None of this appears to bother him; outwardly he stays exactly the same. Then, after many years, he sees the portrait again. While he has remained young, the portrait has grown hideous and distorted. It reveals his inward being, his soul.

Like Dorian Gray we tend to live on the level of appearance. We cannot peer into another person’s heart. Even our heart remains hidden from us. It is hard for us to see the simplicity of our existence. As today’s parable indicates, at every moment we are either saying “yes” or “no” to God. It sometimes seems like, from one day to the next, even from one instant to the next, we can become a different person. That fact can lull us into the sense that we can always change, we can always put things right – even after we die. That would be a fatal illusion.

To explain the seriousness of this life, early Christian writers used a dramatic image. They compared our present existence to a potter molding clay. As long as the clay is moist, it can be formed into almost any shape. But when the potter places it in the fire, it becomes fixed forever. Like me, you have probably visited museums which exhibit ancient pottery. Some of the vases and bowls are over three thousand years old. Yet they retain the same form and, given the right conditions, will continue to do so forever. So it is with the human soul. In this life we can change. Right up to our last breath, we can say “yes” or “no” to God. When we die, though, like a ceramic vase, we are fixed forever. For all eternity we will either look toward God or away from him.

Each decision, no matter how small, has a role in shaping us for eternity. It is like Mother Teresa's face. She always had a beautiful smile for people - even though, as we now know from her correspondence, she suffered what we might call depression (often severe and cronic). In spite of her inner pain, Blessed Teresa of Calcutta will be remembered for the joy etched deeply in her face. Few people realized how fragile was that joy - and that ultimately it did not belong to her, but to Jesus. It required a daily decision and a daily measure of grace. Sadly, we have all seen people fall away and turn bitter. Such terrible changes makes us realize that no one has their final form until the moment of death. Then the soul separates from the constant flux of what St. Paul calls the "corruptible body." That fragility has a plus side. It gives us a capability which angels do not have - the possibility of repentance.

The prophet Ezekiel speaks about the virtuous man who turns away from virtue and dies. On the other hand, he says that if a wicked man turns from evil, he will live. It seems unfair that after an apparently good life, a man could be condemned for one foul deed. Or that after an apparently selfish life, a man could turn to God and gain salvation. But the key word here is “apparent.” We only see appearances. God’s ways seem unfair because we do not see what is in the human heart – often, unfortunately, not even our own. Today’s psalm contains some beautiful and powerful words which we would do well to reflect upon:

“Teach me your paths,
guide me in your truth and teach me
Remember you compassion, O Lord...
The sins of my youth and my frailties remember not,
in your kindness remember me,
because of your goodness, O Lord.”

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