My brothers and sisters in Christ,
Have you ever looked at the world and felt overwhelmed?
You turn on the news and see violence, division, loneliness, addiction,
anxiety, depression, broken families, and people searching desperately for
meaning. Sometimes it feels as though darkness is gaining ground.
Yet when Jesus looked upon the crowds, He did not respond with anger. He
did not respond with frustration. He did not turn away.
The Gospel tells us:
"At the sight of the crowds, His heart was moved with pity for them,
because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd."
That phrase—"His heart was moved with pity"—is one of
the most beautiful descriptions of Jesus in all of Scripture.
The original Greek word means something deeper than simple sympathy. It
describes a compassion that comes from the depths of one's being. Jesus doesn't
merely observe human suffering. He feels it. He enters into it. He carries it.
And today, He invites us to see the world through His eyes.
The crowds around Jesus looked ordinary.
They were farmers, fishermen, mothers, fathers, laborers, widows, and
children.
But Jesus saw what others could not see.
He saw hidden wounds.
He saw grief behind smiles.
He saw fears people never spoke aloud.
He saw sins that enslaved them.
He saw souls longing for God.
And when He looked upon them, His heart broke.
I sometimes think about the people we encounter every day.
The cashier at the grocery store.
The elderly man sitting alone in church.
The teenager struggling with anxiety.
The coworker whose marriage is falling apart.
The neighbor who appears successful but feels empty inside.
The person who has not prayed in years because they believe God has
abandoned them.
We pass by these people every day.
Jesus does not.
He sees them.
And He calls us to see them too.
One of the greatest dangers in modern society is that we stop seeing
people as souls.
We begin seeing them as political opponents, customers, employees,
strangers, inconveniences, or statistics.
But Jesus sees every person as someone worth dying for.
That is the Catholic vision of human dignity.
Every person bears the image of God.
Every person is loved by Christ.
Every person has eternal value.
After seeing the crowds, Jesus says something remarkable:
"The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few."
Notice what He does not say.
He does not say the harvest is small.
He does not say people are uninterested.
He does not say the world is beyond saving.
Instead, He says the harvest is abundant.
There are souls everywhere searching for hope.
There are people longing for truth.
There are hearts waiting to encounter Christ.
The problem is not the harvest.
The problem is the lack of laborers.
The Church has always understood that every baptized Christian receives a
mission.
Not just priests.
Not just bishops.
Not just deacons.
Every Catholic.
At Baptism we become disciples.
At Confirmation we become missionaries.
The Church is not a building we attend.
The Church is a mission we join.
Too many Catholics believe evangelization is somebody else's job.
"Father can do that."
"The deacon can do that."
"The parish staff can do that."
But Jesus is speaking to all of us.
You may never preach from a pulpit.
You may never travel as a missionary.
But you can witness to Christ in your home.
You can pray with your grandchildren.
You can invite someone back to Mass.
You can forgive someone who hurt you.
You can speak words of hope to someone in despair.
You can become the face of Christ to another human being.
Several years ago, a parishioner noticed an elderly gentleman sitting
alone after daily Mass.
Week after week he sat quietly by himself.
One morning she felt prompted by the Holy Spirit to walk over and
introduce herself.
It wasn't a grand gesture.
It wasn't a theological debate.
It was simply kindness.
Over time she learned that his wife had recently died. His children lived
far away. He was lonely, grieving, and questioning whether anyone would even
notice if he stopped coming to church.
So she began sitting with him after Mass.
Sometimes they talked.
Sometimes they simply sat together in silence.
Months later he told her something she would never forget.
He said, "I was thinking about giving up on church altogether. Then
you came over and spoke to me. You reminded me that God had not forgotten
me."
That simple act of compassion changed a life.
One conversation.
One invitation.
One laborer in the harvest.
Never underestimate what God can do through ordinary Catholics who simply
make themselves available to Him.
The Gospel then lists the names of the Apostles.
It's a curious detail.
Matthew could have simply said Jesus sent twelve men.
Instead, he names them one by one.
Why?
Because God works through real people.
Peter was impulsive.
Thomas doubted.
Matthew had been a tax collector.
Simon had been a zealot.
None were perfect.
Yet Jesus called them anyway.
That should encourage every one of us.
Sometimes we think:
"I'm not holy enough."
"I don't know enough Scripture."
"I've made too many mistakes."
"I'm too old."
"I'm too young."
"I'm too busy."
The Apostles would have had every excuse in the world.
Yet Jesus called them.
And He still calls ordinary people today.
The Church has never been built by perfect people.
It has always been built by forgiven people.
Then Jesus gives the Apostles their mission:
"Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, drive out
demons."
At first glance, these commands seem extraordinary.
Yet they reveal the heart of Christ.
The mission of the Church is to bring healing.
The world is wounded.
People are spiritually sick.
Many are deadened by sin.
Many feel isolated and untouchable like the lepers of old.
Many are trapped by addictions, fear, despair, and hopelessness.
The Church exists to bring Christ's healing presence into that
brokenness.
Every sacrament is an encounter with the healing Christ.
In Baptism, He washes us.
In Confession, He forgives us.
In the Eucharist, He nourishes us.
In Anointing, He strengthens us.
Through the Church, Christ continues His healing ministry.
This is why the Eucharist is so essential.
When we come to Mass, we do not simply remember Jesus.
We encounter Him.
The same Christ who looked upon the crowds with compassion is present on
our altar today.
The same Christ who healed the sick still heals souls through the
sacraments.
The same Christ who sent the Apostles now sends us.
Then comes one of the most important lines in the Gospel:
"Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give."
Everything we possess is a gift.
Our faith is a gift.
Our salvation is a gift.
The Eucharist is a gift.
God's mercy is a gift.
None of us earned Calvary.
None of us purchased the Resurrection.
Everything begins with grace.
And because we have received freely, we must give freely.
The world teaches us to ask:
"What do I get out of this?"
Jesus teaches us to ask:
"How can I serve?"
The saints understood this.
St. Francis understood it.
St. Thérèse understood it.
St. Mother Teresa understood it.
They received Christ and then gave Him away.
That is the pattern of Christian discipleship.
Receive.
Then give.
Love God.
Then love others.
Encounter Christ.
Then bring Him to the world.
My brothers and sisters,
The crowds Jesus saw two thousand years ago still exist today.
They are all around us.
People are still troubled.
People are still abandoned.
People are still searching for a shepherd.
The question is not whether there is a harvest.
The harvest is abundant.
The question is whether we will answer the call.
Whether we are priests, deacons, religious, married, single, young, or
old, Christ sends each of us into the harvest.
Not tomorrow.
Today.
Perhaps not across the world.
But across the street.
Across the office.
Across the dinner table.
Across the parish.
Because somewhere nearby is a person who needs hope.
A person who needs mercy.
A person who needs Christ.
And perhaps God has chosen you to bring Him there.
So this week, ask the Lord for eyes that see as He sees.
Ask Him for a heart that feels as He feels.
Ask Him for the courage to become a laborer in His harvest.
For the harvest is still plentiful.
The laborers are still needed.
And Christ is still calling.
Amen.
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