Readings (Year A):
Exodus 19:2–6a
Psalm 100:1–2, 3, 5
Romans 5:6–11
Matthew 9:36–10:8
Reflection: God defines us by love
On a cold evening in a church in Chicago, a parish volunteer noticed an elderly man sitting alone at the back pew after Mass. Most people had already left, and the church was growing quiet. The volunteer walked over gently and asked, “Are you alright?” The man looked up with tired eyes and whispered, “I just needed somewhere to feel seen.” For this man, God is one who sees God’s people. Christ sees the abandoned. And we Christians are to become signs of God’s compassion in a wounded world. This story captures the message at the heart of this eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
In the first reading, the Israelites arrive at Mount Sinai after escaping slavery in Egypt. They are tired, uncertain, and still carrying the wounds of oppression. Yet God speaks tenderly through Moses: “I bore you up on eagle wings and brought you here to myself.” Before giving commandments, God first gives belonging, reminding them that they are God’s treasured people, “a kingdom of priests, a holy nation.” God tells them who they are.
Many people today also struggle to remember their dignity. Society often defines people by success, wealth, status, or failures. But God defines us by love and covenant. We are God’s people.
The responsorial psalm echoes this truth: “We are his people: the sheep of his flock.” Sheep survive by staying close to the shepherd. Without guidance, they wander. Many people today also wander through loneliness, confusion, and spiritual exhaustion. Yet the psalm reminds us that God’s kindness and faithfulness never fail.
St. Paul deepens this message in Romans by reminding us that Christ died for us “while we were still sinners.” Jesus did not wait for humanity to become perfect before loving us. This is one of the most powerful truths in Christianity: Jesus did not wait for humanity to become perfect before loving us but entered into our weakness and brokenness to bring reconciliation and healing. Every person carrying guilt, regret, failure, or shame needs to hear this message: God’s love reaches us before we are ready. Grace always comes first.
In the gospel, Jesus looks upon the crowds and is “moved with pity” because they are “like sheep without a shepherd.” Christ does not ignore suffering; He feels it deeply. He sees the wounded, the forgotten, and the weary. Then he says, “The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few.” The problem is not that God has abandoned the world, but that too few Christians are willing to serve the wounded world with God’s compassion.
Jesus then calls the twelve apostles and sends them out. Notice that he sends ordinary people: fishermen, tax collectors, imperfect men with fears and weaknesses, yet he entrusts them with an extraordinary role to heal, proclaim hope, and bring the kingdom of God near. Their mission is also ours. We are called not only to worship in church but to carry God’s mercy into classrooms, neighborhoods, hospitals, homes, workplaces, and communities.
There is something especially powerful in Jesus’ final words: “Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give.” The disciples are reminded that grace is never earned or owned. It is a gift meant to flow outward. A kind word, a listening ear, forgiveness, advocacy for justice, care for the lonely, teaching truth with love, these become ways we continue Christ’s mission today.
Perhaps the greatest challenge of this gospel is to learn to truly see people the way Jesus sees them. Behind many smiles are hidden battles. Behind anger is often pain. Behind silence is loneliness. Jesus looked at the crowds and saw not strangers, but beloved sheep in need of a shepherd.
This Sunday invites us to ask ourselves: When people encounter me, do they experience judgment or compassion? Do I notice those who feel forgotten? Am I willing to become a laborer in God’s harvest? The world does not need more successful people; it needs more compassionate disciples. It needs people whose hearts are moved the way Christ’s heart was moved.
And maybe, somewhere near us this week, there will be someone quietly sitting in their own kind of darkness, simply hoping to feel seen.
