Homily This Sunday

Chosen, Loved, and Sent: The Heart of the Shepherd

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, there is a single moment in today's Gospel that holds the key to everything else. Saint Matthew tells us that when Jesus "saw the crowds, his heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd" (Matthew 9:36). Before Jesus does anything, before he sends out a single apostle, his heart is moved.

The Greek word Matthew uses here is remarkable. It refers to being stirred in one's deepest insides, a compassion that grips the whole person. This is not Jesus feeling a passing twinge of sympathy. This is the Heart of God Himself, looking out at humanity and being overwhelmed with love for people who are lost, exhausted, and wandering without direction.

My dear friends, this is where our faith begins. Not with our effort, not with our worthiness, but with the gaze of Christ who looks upon us with compassion. And this gaze did not begin in Galilee. It runs all the way back through salvation history.

In our First Reading from the Book of Exodus, God speaks to a people freshly delivered from slavery, gathered at the foot of Mount Sinai. And listen to what He says: "You have seen for yourselves how I treated the Egyptians and how I bore you up on eagle wings and brought you here to myself" (Exodus 19:4). What a tender image. God does not say, "I led you," or "I guided you." He says, "I bore you up on eagle wings." The mother eagle, when teaching her young to fly, hovers beneath them, ready to catch them if they fall.

That is how God carried Israel. And He tells them why: "You shall be to me a kingdom of priests, a holy nation" (Exodus 19:6). Brothers and sisters, this is the great pattern of God's love. He chooses a people not because they earned it, but to make them His own treasure and to send them as a blessing to the whole world. Chosen, loved, and sent. That same pattern unfolds in today's Gospel.

But here is something we must never forget, and Saint Paul makes it crystal clear in our Second Reading. We might think God's love is a response to our goodness. Paul shatters that illusion. He writes: "God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8).

Stop and consider how staggering that is. Paul says it would be remarkable for someone to die for a good person. But Christ died for us while we were still enemies, while we had turned our backs, while we were the very sheep wandering away from the shepherd. The love came first. The compassion came before the conversion.

Saint Augustine put it beautifully when he said that God loves each of us as if there were only one of us to love. He did not wait for us to become lovable. He loved us into existence, and He loved us back from death. This is the foundation of everything. We are not earning God's love. We are responding to a love that has already claimed us.

Now, dear friends, notice what flows from this compassion in the Gospel. Jesus, moved with pity, turns to his disciples and says something surprising. He does not say, "I will fix everything myself." He says, "The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few; so ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest" (Matthew 9:37-38).

And then, in the very next verse, Jesus answers his own call. He summons the Twelve, names them one by one, and sends them out. Matthew lists their names. Simon called Peter, Andrew, James, John, and on through the list, even Judas Iscariot, who would betray him. These were ordinary men. Fishermen. A tax collector. Men with weaknesses and flaws.

This is so important for us to hear. Jesus does not wait for perfect laborers. He takes the imperfect, the struggling, the ones still learning, and He sends them. He gives them authority to heal, to cast out demons, to proclaim that the Kingdom of heaven is at hand. And then He adds those words we should treasure: "Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give" (Matthew 10:8).

Brothers and sisters, what does this mean for us, here, today? It means that every one of us has been gazed upon with that same compassion. Every one of us has been borne up on eagle wings. Every one of us was loved while we were still sinners. And every one of us is being sent.

We sometimes imagine that being sent on mission is for priests and religious, for missionaries in far-off lands. But the Second Vatican Council reminded us that by our Baptism, every Christian shares in the priesthood of Christ. We are that "kingdom of priests" God spoke of at Sinai. The mission belongs to all of us.

So where is your harvest field? Perhaps it is your own family, where patience and forgiveness are needed. Perhaps it is your workplace, where you can be a quiet witness of integrity and kindness. Perhaps it is the neighbor who is suffering, the coworker who feels abandoned and lost, like a sheep without a shepherd. You do not need extraordinary gifts. You need only the willingness to give freely what you have freely received.

And here, dear friends, is where this homily meets the altar. In just a few moments, we will celebrate the Eucharist. We will come forward to receive the Body and Blood of the very Christ whose heart was moved with pity. At this table, we encounter that compassion made flesh, given to us without cost. We who were enemies are now reconciled, drawn into communion with God.

But the Eucharist is never something we simply receive and keep for ourselves. Remember those words: "Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give." We are nourished at this table precisely so that we can become laborers in the harvest. The compassion of Christ enters us in Holy Communion so that it may pour out from us into the world.

My dear brothers and sisters, the Mass ends with these words: "Go, the Mass is sent." We are sent. Each one of us, fed by Christ, loved by Christ, is sent to carry His compassion to a world full of troubled and abandoned people.

So this week, let me offer you one concrete step. Ask the Lord to show you one person in your life who is wandering, who feels lost or abandoned. Then do one small thing for them: a word of encouragement, an act of kindness, a moment of genuine listening, a prayer offered on their behalf. In doing so, you become a laborer in the harvest. You let the compassionate Heart of Jesus reach the world through you.

We have been chosen, we have been loved, and now we are sent. May this Eucharist we are about to receive strengthen us to answer that call with joyful and generous hearts.

Amen.

Sources Consulted

1. *Catechism of the Catholic Church*, especially paragraphs 781-786 (the People of God) and 1546-1547 (the common priesthood of the faithful). 2. Saint Augustine of Hippo, *Confessions* and *Sermons*, on the gratuitous love of God. 3. Saint John Chrysostom, *Homilies on the Gospel of Saint Matthew*. 4. Second Vatican Council, *Lumen Gentium* (Dogmatic Constitution on the Church), on the priesthood of all the baptized. 5. Pope Benedict XVI, *Jesus of Nazareth*, on the compassion of Christ and the call of the Twelve. 6. *The Navarre Bible Commentary* on the Gospel of Matthew and the Letter to the Romans. 7. Brant Pitre, *The Case for Jesus* and commentary on the New Exodus theme in Matthew. 8. Scott Hahn, *Catholic Bible Dictionary*, entries on "Covenant," "Priesthood," and "Reconciliation."