Homily: 11th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Cycle A
“At the sight of the crowds, Jesus’
heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned,
like sheep without a shepherd…”
Friends, as we finally get back to the
“ordinary” of this “Ordinary Time”, we are blessed to be greeted with this
beautiful line from the ninth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel. It’s beautiful because it records for us the
wonderfully tender nature of Jesus’ heart.
As we have just celebrated the solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus
this past Friday, it is a reminder of that celebration to see his heart on
display in the Gospel reading.
This, of course, brings us joy:
because we know that hearts can be fickle, and this story about Jesus in the Gospel
could have recorded a very different reaction.
Jesus’ reaction to the sight of the crowds is a very noble and tender
one. His heart “was moved with pity for
them”. I’m sure most of us, however,
could imagine our own reaction to this scene: having already worked to help so
many, you then look up and see another multitude of people waiting for your help. All of us would be tempted to say, “Oh, this
is just too much. It’ll be never ending!
I just can’t continue with this.” If we give into that temptation and abandon
the crowd, then it could be said that “Our hearts were moved with pity for
ourselves…” Jesus’ heart was moved with
pity for them, and, as those who are counted among the “them”, we are
joyful because of it.
Beautiful as this is, however, Jesus’
heart isn’t just moved with pity, but also moved to do something about it. Immediately he turns to his disciples and
urges them to ask “the master of the harvest” (God the Father in heaven) “to
send out laborers for his harvest”.
Then, as if he is the actor in a one-man play, taking on the role of “the
master of the harvest”, he turns and summons the twelve disciples to send them
out to be “laborers for the harvest”. Again,
it is truly a noble and tender heart that sees others in great need and, knowing
that something can be done, is moved to do it.
Friends, I don’t think that it is a superlative to say that this
orientation of Jesus’ heart is still present in the Church today: for she
continues to be the embodiment of how “the master of the harvest” continually
sends “laborers for his harvest”. In
fact, I feel quite certain that, if she ever abandoned this mission, the Church
would simply disintegrate and disappear.
Without going to much farther afield
into the abstract ecclesiology of the Church and her mission, I want to step
back to the text and take note of something.
I think that it’s very interesting that, after having said that “[Jesus]
summoned his twelve disciples”, Matthew names them all. By the time that these Gospels were written,
everybody knew who the twelve apostles were.
It would have been enough to say, “Jesus summoned his twelve disciples and
gave them the mission”; everyone would have known those to whom he was
referring. Nevertheless, I can still see
naming them as a way to record, for posterity, who were the first twelve. But I also see something else of Jesus’
tenderness manifesting itself in reminding us of the individuality of each of
the twelve, which happened when Matthew was inspired to give us their names. I have a story that I think will help you to
see why.
Last week, I was asked to visit a sick
parishioner in Logansport. Noemi is a relatively
young mother (she’s a little younger than I am). About eight years ago, she was found with a
cancerous tumor in her brain. As much of it as possible was surgically removed and
she was then given radiation and chemotherapy to try to ensure all of it was eliminated. Unfortunately, the cancer has returned and in
a way that doctors had no further recourse to help her. Her mother, who had asked me to visit her,
said that she was despondent and hoped that I could come to pray with her and,
perhaps, bring her some hope.
I went to visit her and found her
somewhat as her mother described. My
heart was moved with pity for her. We
talked for a little bit as I tried to understand more about her situation. I also wanted to give her permission to express
any feelings she may be experiencing about God: as many people in situations
like this can feel angry at God, but don’t feel like they have the permission
to express it. She was able to share
with me that she felt angry with God and forgotten by him. I assured her that God had not forgotten her,
but that he was with her this whole time, and that my presence there was a sign
of this very fact. “You see,” I told
her, “there is no other reason for me to be here right now than the fact that
God wants you to know that he has not forgotten you: that he has not abandoned
you.” In other words, I tried to remind
her that, having no other connection to her, I had no other reason to be there,
except that visiting the sick and bringing them the sacraments is what God has
called me to do. In doing so, I bring a
tangible sign to them that God is still with them, and that he has not
forgotten them.
Reflecting on my priestly ministry, I
am struck by how strange it seems that God chose me—that is, that he chooses
regular schmoes, like me—to fulfill his purpose. Just as easily he could have sent an army of
angels for this task (which probably would be both more efficient and
effective). Yet, he chooses us—men and women
with names—to go out and be the tangible sign of his presence: to be “laborers
for his harvest”.
This is why I think it’s so great that
we hear the names of the Apostles today.
It reminds us that God, in his tender pity for the crowds who “were
troubled and abandoned”, sent regular schmoes to go out and manifest his loving
presence to the crowds in need: not angels, not AI robots, but persons with
names and families and histories… It’s great,
because it also reminds each of us that, as members of his Church, we are
called to continue in this apostolic legacy: to be the laborers that “the
master of the harvest” sends out “for his harvest” to manifest his loving
presence to those who are in danger of forgetting it.
Therefore, as we give thanks with
great joy today for the noble and tender love of Jesus’ heart that is moved
with pity for us whenever we are troubled or feel abandoned, let us commit
ourselves to respond when God calls us to accompany the “troubled and abandoned”
in our midst, so that they, too, can know that God is with them. In doing so, we will be reaping the fruits of
the harvest and solidifying the presence of God’s Church in this place for many
years to come. May God’s accompaniment of
us in this Holy Eucharist—present in both the Word and in the Blessed Sacrament
received from this altar—strengthen us for this good work.
Given at St.
Charles Borromeo Parish: Peru, IN – June 14th, 2026
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