A few months ago, a young woman posted a video online after accidentally leaving her phone in a taxi late at night. She panicked. Her entire life seemed trapped inside that phone: family photos, banking apps, contacts, memories, work emails, everything. She tried calling it repeatedly, but no answer. Then, the driver finally answered and said, “Don’t worry. I noticed immediately that you left it behind. I have been trying to get it back to you.” What struck people in the comments section was not simply that the phone was returned. It was what the driver said next: “I knew somebody would be terrified without this because people carry their whole lives in their phones these days, and a lost phone is like a lost life.”
That line stayed with me because it reveals something about our generation. We live in a world where many people feel lost almost all the time. Not geographically lost, but emotionally, spiritually, and internally lost. People scroll endlessly searching for meaning, validation, connection, and peace. We are more connected digitally than ever before, yet many people secretly feel unseen, unknown, and alone. And into that reality comes today’s Responsorial Psalm with remarkable tenderness: “We are his people: the sheep of his flock.” Not random faces in the crowd. Not forgotten accounts in God’s system. Not employees. Not customers. Not Projects. Not statistics. His people. His flock.
That one sentence becomes the heartbeat holding all the scripture readings together today. Because from Exodus, to Romans, to the Gospel according to Matthew, the message is the same: God is not distant from his people. He knows them. He loves them. He searches for them. He stays with them. Some people walk through life feeling spiritually abandoned, forgotten, unworthy, and invisible. They believe God loves “holy people,” but merely tolerates them. Some even carry the secret fear that if God truly knew everything about them, he would walk away from them. But today’s readings destroy that lie.
The Psalm says: “We are his people: the sheep of his flock.” God chooses to use the image of sheep. It is true that sheep are not impressive animals. They are not known for strength, intelligence, or independence. Sheep wander. Sheep get lost easily. Sheep panic easily. Sheep are vulnerable. And yet throughout Scripture, God repeatedly says, “Those are Mine.” The beauty of the flock does not depend on the sheep. It depends on the shepherd.
Psalm 100 helps us understand this even more deeply. This psalm was most likely used during temple worship as the people entered the gates of Jerusalem for praise and thanksgiving. Pilgrims who had experienced difficult seasons would sing together: “Know that the LORD is God; he made us, his we are; his people, the flock he tends.” Imagine tired travelers arriving at the Temple carrying burdens, failures, fears, grief, and unanswered questions. Before anything else, the Temple reminded them who they belonged to. The acknowledgement of identity changes behavior. When people forget whose they are, they begin to live like orphans. Today, people search endlessly for worth in achievements, money, relationships, popularity, politics, appearance, or success. The world keeps saying, “Prove your worth.” But the Psalm says, “You already belong.” “We are his people.” Not because we earned it. But because He chose us.
That truth shines beautifully in the First Reading from the Book of Exodus. Israel has just escaped Egypt. They are not yet strong. They are not organized. They are still carrying trauma from slavery. Yet God tells them: “You shall be my special possession… a kingdom of priests, a holy nation.” Here, God speaks identity before accomplishment. Israel had not yet built the Temple. They had not conquered nations. They had not become spiritually mature. Yet God already called them his own.
Maybe somebody here today needs to hear that personally. God’s love for you did not begin after you became successful. God did not wait until you got your life together before calling you his beloved. He loved you in Egypt too. He loved you when you were wounded. He loved you when your faith was weak. He loved you before you knew how to love him back.
Saint Paul in the Second Reading from his letter to the Romans, makes the same point in a way that even sounds scandalous: “While we were still sinners Christ died for us.” Not after we became saints. Not after we fixed ourselves. Not after we proved our worth; but while we were still sinners.
In the Gospel passage, Matthew tells us that Jesus looked at the crowds and was moved with pity because they were “troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.” Jesus does not look at the crowd with annoyance. Not disgust. Not impatience; but compassion. Jesus sees people in need; he does not turn away from them; he moves toward them.
Unfortunately, sometimes we imagine God standing over us with crossed arms waiting for us to fail again. But today’s readings reveal something different. God is not standing over us with condemnation. He is searching for us with compassion. That is why Jesus sends the apostles out in the Gospel. Notice what he tells them to do: cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, and drive out demons. In other words: go gather my wounded sheep. The mission of the Church is not to create a museum for perfect people. It is to become an extension of the Shepherd’s compassion.
This understanding changes how we should see one another too. Every person you meet is somebody the Shepherd is searching for. That difficult coworker. That teenager acting rebellious. That person battling addiction. That family member who drifted from Church. These are not problems to dismiss, but Sheep the Shepherd still loves. And here may be the most beautiful part of all: sheep survive not because they are strong, but because they stay close to the shepherd. That is the invitation today. Stay close. When life gets confusing, stay close. When prayer feels dry, stay close. When guilt whispers lies, stay close. When suffering shakes your confidence, stay close. Because the security of the sheep is never found in the sheep’s strength. It is found in the Shepherd’s presence.
Homily for 11th Sunday in Ordinary Time Year A 2026
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