Jesus, we are told, is “intending to go” to Jerusalem, but visiting places throughout Galilee on the way (and from Galilee into Samaria, which is important to remember when we get to the story of the “Good” Samaritan in a couple of weeks). Jesus sends out his followers to prepare the way of the Lord. So he commissions 70, or 72, of his followers to go in his name first. This is a reminder that ministry and witness is not merely the work of professionals—all Christian disciples are called to help communicate the good news to a word that is starving for it. There certainly are field a-plenty awaiting the planting of a bountiful harvest.
As baptized Christians, we ALL act in persona Christi, in the person and place of Christ—not just those who are ordained. As Teresa of Avila famously insisted, Christ has no body now in the world but ours—no hands, no feet, no eyes to look with love on the world but ours. We ARE the Body of Christ.
And sure, witnessing to Christ makes disciples vulnerable. Even though many will reject the disciples, even more will hear and listen, thus the harvest is plentiful.
Perhaps Jesus sends them out so early so they will understand what the risks are of being disciples and witnesses. They will be exposed and vulnerable. They will have to depend upon the kindness of strangers. They will have to depend upon and trust God. They luckily will not be alone, but they may not be warmly welcomed. These things were difficult then, and they are difficult now—our society is not built to reinforce trust.
The risk they are taking is stark—they are not just sheep among wolves, but lambs-- babies who are defenseless.
Disciples, then and now, must rely upon others. Galilee and Samaria are hardly wealthy areas, so the hospitality they are given will hardly be lavish—but it therefore most certainly will be heartfelt. Those who are willing to share what they have when first asked do not deserve to be dishonored by their guests moving along when something better is offered to them, thus they are to stay put in the same place the entire time they are in a village.
The list of what they are NOT supposed to take is pretty long—especially in comparison to what they ARE to bring: peace, and healing. This is their Good News. And isn’t this what we see the world around us hungering for, even now?
First of all, peace. Even before they know anything about the house they’ve just entered or the beliefs of those living there. Peace that is shared. Peace that is more than peace—it’s shalom. It’s well-being, completeness, a greeting, a farewell, and everything in between. Peace, based on justice and mercy, takes a random group of strangers and forms them into community.
Their ministry, and ours, is one of healing and restoration, and announcing that the kingdom is already among the people we meet. This is the second part of our mutual proclamation.
Jesus offers an important bit of advice for all of us: if you are rejected, don’t take it personally. It’s really rejection of Jesus, and of his message. The image of shaking the dust off your sandals also carries with it some risk of misinterpretation. Almost every time I have heard someone quote use this image, they have used it to justify cutting someone off, as a harsh judgment, almost like saying “You are dead to me.” That type of sentiment implies that we can just give up on people who don’t agree with us, or who don’t immediately jump on our bandwagons. It means we can call it quits for today—but tomorrow, we go back and try again.
That is, after all, how the life of grace works. God never gives up on us, no matter how outrageous our failures, our vanities, our pride.
Here’s why I want to lodge a complaint with the organizers of the common lectionary at this point. Our pericope ends with Jesus telling the happy disciples to not be so happy about their success, but that their “names are written in heaven.” And sitting here in the 21st century, I for one feel like we have had more than enough of that kind of Christianity—the kind that says that belief in Jesus is all about saving yourself, rather than engaging with those around us, with caring for the vulnerable, including this beautiful Earth that is our only home. Nope. Just make sure you aren’t going to burn in hellfire for all eternity, and it’s all good, too many people say. That not the Way of a Lamb, either—it’s just the Way of the Wolf, gobbling up anything to fill up its own belly.
But the last word we hear is often one we remember, so here is my complaint—it is misleading. But listen to the next words, in vv. 21-24:
“At that very moment, Jesus overflowed with joy from the Holy Spirit and said, I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you've hidden these things from the wise and intelligent and shown them to babies. Indeed, Father, this brings you happiness. My Father has handed all things over to me. No one knows who the son is except the Father, or who the Father is except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wants to reveal him.” Turning to the disciples, he said privately, “Happy are the eyes that see what you see. I assure you that many prophets and kings wanted to see what you see and hear what you hear, but they didn't.”
Jesus himself is overjoyed, we learn. So we, too, can be overjoyed when we share the good news of God’s kingdom with others—as long as we realize it is not to our credit but to our joy, an act of love and not of pride.
Perhaps these verses that were omitted today hold the key for what we can take away from the gospel section before us. Too often, we get wrapped up in arguments over arguing with those who don’t agree with us theologically. We start drawing swords over questions that are esoteric, we get distracted by details so that we love sight of the forest. We make things harder than they need to be. Our job is to speak God’s peace to those we encounter, to testify to the love of God for each of us, and for this world. We are sent out to heal, to reconcile, to restore what has been disordered with love and compassion, not self-righteousness or seeking glory for ourselves.
So what are we to do, as we spend this weekend celebrating independence, often while forgetting that the sacrifices and LOVE for each other that brought us here? Forgetting that freedom is a mockery when it is used to oppress others. Too many of the powerful are trying to convince us that we can be free through the exploitation of those around us.
But that’s the Way of the Wolf. Jesus calls us to be lambs, to bear with each other in justice, in gratitude, and in love. Lambs know that their security rests in staying united as one flock under one shepherd—and he is the Prince of Peace, not the God of the Belly.
Speaking peace in humble homes, living in gratitude, loving God and your neighbor even when everything about them makes you uncomfortable. As the prophet Micah summed it up: Do justice, Love mercy, Walk humbly with your God, who accompanies us at the first sign of our yes to God. These are the things that defeat the forces of evil in the world and promise us a new birth of freedom, liberty in love, and justice for all in word and deed.
This sermon was preached at the 505 on July 2 and the 10:30 am Holy Eucharist at St. Martin's Episcopal Church in Ellisville, MO.
No comments:
Post a Comment