Jesus summoned the Twelve and gave them power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases, and he sent them to proclaim the Kingdom of God and to heal the sick.
He said to them, “Take nothing for the journey, neither walking stick, nor sack, nor food, nor money, and let no one take a second tunic. Whatever house you enter, stay there and leave from there. And as for those who do not welcome you, when you leave that town, shake the dust from your feet in testimony against them.”
Then they set out and went from village to village proclaiming the good news and curing diseases everywhere.
I don’t like this gospel passage. Not one little bit. I don’t like to be reminded about the great commission calling that ends the book of Matthew because it makes me uncomfortable. It is virtually impossible for me to even think about taking up the task of bringing the good news of the gospel to strangers who may react negatively to the offer. The possibility of just one bad experience one time does the job just fine.
We live in a place and time that is referred to as being post-Christian. We Christians have had our time in the sun but in the eyes of many, we blew it. Our faith has been tarred and feathered by revelations about decades of abuse and mistreatment of the most vulnerable members of society, most sorrowfully our children. We are seen as bigots who deprive those who don’t believe like us of their basic human rights. That is not how we see it but the sting of rejection causes me to look away, wincing from the sound of the accusations.
Still, the call to evangelize has not faded away. It has become all the more important and we need to see the call expressed in the gospel reading as being personal, individual to each of us and we are invited to respond in the full measure our station in life will permit. I ask, what do I, an older, white, male, straight, orthodox, conservative, rich guy have to offer anyone? Do I have any hope of proclaiming a message with any relevance to anyone who does not look and act like me? Not much, I would imagine, not much at all.
There is no doubt, however, a message for me to hear in the passage. I am challenged to listen to hear what is being said and respond. There are 4 ways of listening I would like to touch in the coming weeks. I am going to use all 4 now by way of introduction to come to some understanding of what we are supposed to hear being said to us because we are all alike.
- The natural world. God speaks to us through beauty and the marvels of nature. How can the natural world reach out to us about this passage? Perhaps we can just imagine the journey. I pull up an image of the countryside they would pass through as they go from village to village. There are fields with sheep and cattle, vineyards, farms with grain, and other foodstuffs being grown. The sun is shining brightly as you would expect. Maybe there would be some kind of adverse weather to endure as they traveled. I close my eyes and walk with them. I listen to the hard scratch of the gravel crunching beneath my feet. I feel the heat of the sun on my shoulders and smell the smells of fields and soil. I can hear the wind or maybe irritating gronking of ravens calling out from the olive groves. Nature would keep the disciples folded up in its broad arms while they travel. I can let it gather me as well.
- Human life. The passage has been weighing on my mind for several days, so I have had time for it to simmer. Perhaps the solution for me is to not think in terms of big changes or life-altering efforts. On Monday I had the need to go downtown to run some errands. As I was returning to my
car, I arrived at the corner at the same time as I grizzled, handicapped old guy, wearing torn and tattered clothing and an Aussie style hat so common among defeated Viet Nam war vets. He had a grungy gray beard and unkempt locks of hair escaped from under this hat. He used a cane to help him trudge along. I accidentally made eye contact so I had no choice but to react to him. Shamefully, he was the kind of guy I would try to avoid if I had the choice but, on this day, I was committed. I had to do something. I smiled and greeted him. I held my hand offered to help him step up on the curb gut he waved me away. “I got it,” he said. He stepped up on the curb and started down the street away from me. I did what all good cowards do. I just walked past him, got in the car and drove away. I did not look back then but I have looked multiple times since the moment. The event bothered me. There was more I could have done, should have done, wanted to do but I lacked the insight or will to act. The unsettled feeling tells me I have to do things differently next time. I met the Bishop recently and his words to me echo in my ears. “Go be a missionary to the people of Montana,” he said. He had no interest in hearing about my life contemplation and service at the Sycamore Tree. I realized I was so busy finding ways to say “no” to big ways to be a missionary, I missed the little one right in front of me. Lesson, I hope, learned. - Sacred scripture. This scripture reading caused me to listen to the words written as they speak to what is asked me. Not big things, at least not now, but little things I can easily do often. Little things. Hmm. I have heard that before. I think the rest of the sentence is "with great love". Do little things with great
love. Of course, Therese of Lisieux said it and they made her a doctor of the church. I guess there is something to the idea of little things with great love. I think I can give that a try. - Interior Silence. The words that have escaped the recesses of my mind onto the screen did not just show up. I waited and listened for them to come, for them to point the way to go, for them to give the calm that comes from a resolve to act differently. I let the thoughts, images, ideas, and concepts just roll around like little rocks in a bucket until God’s voice echoed through my heart. Little things with great love. I can do that. I will do that and see where it leads me.
