Today’s readings are all about leaving the 99 in the desert and going after the one lost sheep.

I can relate to that. Maggie and I had seven children in ten years. Many times, something would happen, and we’d have to leave the six and go after the one lost sheep. Occasionally, one would be physically lost. More often, they would stray in other ways. And it wasn’t always the same one. They took turns. True, some did it more than others, but we weren’t really counting.

Whichever one it was, whatever the circumstance, we went after the lost sheep. Whether he or she was sick, or injured, or distraught, or in trouble, or in rebellion, or in jail, we went after the lost sheep.

And like the scripture says, there was always much joy over the lost who had been found, the sinner who repented, the imprisoned released, the sick made well.

That’s the way families are. Which is only natural, because God made us, and that’s the way God is.

That’s also the way Jesus was. He not only preached the "Good Shepherd," he lived it. He was constantly going after the lost, the outcasts, the rejected, the condemned, the hated, the feared, the heretics, the tax collectors, the prostitutes, the lepers, the sinners ... people like us. And it got him into trouble. It made him an object of controversy, scorn, derision, ridicule, harrassment, and condemnation.

Yet he persevered in going after the lost sheep right to the end. Even from the cross itself, he evangelized the "good thief" and forgave those who crucified him.

Following in his footsteps, his church is the same way, leaving the righteous in the desert and going after the lost sheep.

Well, isn’t it? If this is not your image of the Christian church, then maybe something has gone wrong over the last two thousand years. Maybe parts of the church have departed from following Jesus and decided to follow the Pharisees. Maybe some church leaders cherish their respectability and affluence more than their calling to take up their crosses, follow Jesus, and tend his sheep.

One has to respect people like Mother Teresa ministering to the dying, Chuck Colson ministering to the imprisoned, Father Damien ministering to the lepers, Sister Helen Prejean ministering to the condemned.

Here in this tiny, homeless church, we are attempting to minister to the excommunicated, the spiritually lost. And we attempt to give opportunities to those wishing to join us in following Jesus and going after the lost sheep of the kingdom.

The following is from the mission statement of our church:

"The mission of the United Catholic Church is to bring the gospel, the sacraments, and God’s love and fellowship to the church’s homeless. To the outcast, we offer inclusion; to the rejected, acceptance; to the afflicted, comfort; to the sinner, forgiveness; to the despondent, hope; to the troubled, peace."

Doing this has not made us popular or socially acceptable. We have gathered a tiny band of followers, and a motley bunch you are too. We go from place to place, worshipping God wherever we find ourselves.

But then again, that’s all Jesus was able to do in his earthly ministry, and it ended in abject failure, his motley handful scattered in fear and disillusionment while he hung on a cross, abandoned by nearly all his friends. Jesus showed us it was better to have a failed ministry to the lost sheep than a "successful" one to the frozen chosen in a marble megachurch, a Baroque basilica, or a crystal cathedral.

Well, by that standard, we’re doing great! We have been turned away by numerous churches, and kicked out of others.

We reverted to once again doing Masses in our home. Then just this week, we got a letter from Brevard County code enforcement. They had a complaint that we were causing a traffic hazard by holding services in our home. That was pretty flattering, considering that we had never had more than four cars come, and we have room for about twenty. One Sunday morning the surf was up due to the hurricanes passing by, and the access road by our house was jammed with the cars of surfers. I guess people thought all those cars belonged to worshippers.

This week we’re having Mass at Bruce and Lois’s house. Next week, I’ll be in Atlanta, and after that probably back at our place, surfers or no. We’re sort of like a floating crap game, unable to stay at any one place very long.

If all this is unsettling to you, you can always go back to a conventional church with its own building, a budget, a paid staff, and status in the society. That way you won’t be a lost sheep any more, and I can go looking for others to take your place.

Indeed, we have had dozens of people come to us unchurched, stay with us for a while, and then go elsewhere. We have them going to St. Joseph’s, Our Lady of Grace, Holy Name of Jesus, Our Lady of Lourdes, Ascension, St. Mary’s, ... even Immaculate Conception. I guess it means we’ve done our job, and they’ve returned to the fold, even if it isn’t our fold.

But sometimes I think it just means I’ve failed. But someday God will send his church a leader who can succeed at what we’ve tried, one who can restore the church to what Jesus intended and can heal its divisions.

I too am just a lost sheep. We are all wandering in the wilderness, waiting for Jesus to come and place us on his shoulders and take us home. Then there will be one flock and one shepherd. Come, Lord Jesus.

Amen.

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