Sunday, June 26
Thirteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
Ruler of the universe, you call us to radical loyalty beyond all earthly claim. Grant us strength to offer ourselves to you as people who have been raised from death to life through Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
[Jesus said:] "Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet's reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—-truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward."
All readings for the Week
Genesis 22:1-14 with Psalm 13 or
Jeremiah 28:5-9 with Psalm 89:1-4, 15-18
1. Who has inspired you in the Christian journey?
2. What is the "little cup of cold water" that you offer to others?
3. Why might someone not welcome "the promises of God"?
4. How did the church move so far away from living in "a place of welcome"?
5. Are people "changed for good" by the life and ministry of your church?
by Kate Huey
I look back on my Catholic school education gratefully, particularly for the influence of the nuns who taught us. I was so inspired by them that I spent my childhood intent on entering the convent when I graduated from high school. While God led me in a different direction (very different directions!), the inspiration and the desire to do something wholehearted with my life never went away. The way I saw it, those nuns didn't just have a "day job." They had given their whole lives, everything they owned, including their family (that was always impressed on us), to follow God's call. And the nuns told us colorful stories about martyrs and missionaries who gave up even more in response to God's call, people like Perpetua, Edmund Campion, and Father Damien. It was a wonderful way to grow up, hearing those stories.
I remember those nuns when I read Jesus' instructions to his disciples before he sends them out on a mission. His speech ends here with these three verses, but it really began back at the end of Chapter Nine, when he's been busy himself traveling all around (obviously, he didn't set up shop somewhere and let the sick come to him), feeling deep compassion for the suffering and need of the "harassed and helpless" crowds, healing them, restoring them, and giving them hope. He observes just then to his disciples that "The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few..." (9:37a). So, what's the first thing he does about that situation? He gathers his disciples and sends them out to be those laborers! And what does he tell them, and what does he empower them to do? He tells them to cast out demons and cure every illness, offering gifts of compassion to announce the reign of God drawing near. Keeping that in mind as we come to the close of this speech (his sermon, perhaps?), we might understand our own call more clearly, and embrace it more wholly.
Jesus was very clear in his instructions, as we know from reading this speech over the course of several Sundays. He told his disciples to "proclaim the good news, 'The kingdom of heaven has come near.'" That's what they were supposed to say, but then what should they do? What does the kingdom of heaven look like? How will we know it when we see it, or feel it? Jesus' keynote address, the Sermon on the Mount (which took three chapters, beginning with Chapter Five), tells us a lot about the reign of God. The speech that ends today has given us even more information about how we can participate in that reign, now that we're inspired by Jesus' words and life. Along with those disciples, we're told to offer gifts of compassion: to cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, and cast out demons. Isn't it interesting that there seems to be far more emphasis on healing and raising than on the exact words and teachings they (we) should use? (Church councils would address the words and teachings issue much later, but for the time being, the Holy Spirit would be enough.) More emphasis, it seems, on the doing than on the saying.
Have an undivided heart
And then Jesus really focuses on two things: have no fear, he says, and have an undivided heart. (Kierkegaard: to be "pure of heart" means "to will one thing.") You probably need to be fearless if you're going to have an undivided heart, because you're likely to risk a lot for the sake of the treasure that lies in your heart: perhaps you'll even risk the loss of social standing, family support, physical safety and financial security. There have been Christians in every age and place who have known something of that kind of loss, but many of us in the mainline churches in the United States find it harder to relate. Last week, Barbara Brown Taylor described our temptation well: "Sure, it is the gospel, but there is no reason to get all upset about it. Being a good Christian is not all that different from being a good citizen, after all. You just stay out of trouble and be nice to your neighbors and say your prayers at night. There is absolutely no reason to go make a spectacle of yourself...."
But Charles Cousar recognizes what we face if we get up out of our comfort zones to follow Jesus: "those who discover that the announcement of the dawn of a new age is forever risky business...." After all, part of this speech warned us that the same things that happened to Jesus could happen to us: be ready, Jesus says, to experience the same resistance I experience, to be called names and to be misinterpreted. We are sent by Jesus, who was sent by God, so we're associated with Jesus, identified with him, and granted his authority, but along with the authority comes the risk, as David Bartlett reminds us. Is that risk too daunting? M. Eugene Boring draws this hard and uncomfortable conclusion about our discomfort with "talk of witness, persecution, poverty, and martyrdom. To the extent that it seems alien, it is a call to reexamine our own version of Christianity and ask whether we have remade the Christian faith to our own tastes, and whether it is possible to so change faith and have it remain Christian faith...." A very hard and uncomfortable conclusion!
We could focus on the lesson about hospitality in this short text, the last three verses of a much longer speech by Jesus. Hospitality is a very good thing, of course. In the United Church of Christ, we claim "extravagant hospitality" at the heart of our vision for the church, and we're trying to live that out the best we can. Jesus, interestingly, doesn't speak in terms of extravagance here but of one little cold cup of water. Even that much, he says, will be rewarded. Arguing from the lesser to the greater (as he so often did), we can imagine how pleased God is by an extravagant welcome offered in God's name. But offering that welcome and the gift of compassion is as good for our own spiritual health as it is for the well-being of the one welcomed. It's one very good way that we experience the reign of God drawing near. Evan Drake Howard writes in the June 17, 2008 issue of The Christian Century: "The more extravagant the welcome, the greater the refreshment, the deeper the grounding, the clearer the enlightenment, the stronger the inspiration that will flow from it. The welcome must be extravagant in sincerity and persistence...." Howard says that Jesus lived in a "place of welcome," and one story after another from the New Testament confirms this. It seems, of course, that Jesus' "place of welcome" was able to travel with him wherever he went, as he made people feel at home wherever and however they met him.
We can always count on Richard Swanson for a fresh perspective on the text: he brings together the hospitality (the "chief necessary act" in a nomadic society) and the risk. The ancient stories in the Bible about welcoming strangers strike a deep chord within us, Swanson writes, of "delight that arrives when human beings treat each other as human beings, with honor and respect, and perhaps a little food....This old sign of Torah faithfulness is taken as a sign, house by house, of who expects God to keep the old promises." In any age, comfortable or not, it takes courage and tenacity to hold onto the promises and trust in the One who has made them. According to Swanson, "Those who have given up on God's promises and have cast their lot with [empire] will reveal themselves by refusing welcome. They would not welcome a prophet....The thing that matters in this scene is the ritual of recognizing who welcomes God's promises and who does not." Thus, when someone opens their heart to the promises of God and their door to one who bears them (the "sent" ones, the "little ones" who are small and humble but speaking with the authority of the One who sends them), it does not escape God's notice. God pays attention, after all, to small things and humble acts.
Called together and sent out
There's irony here in the necessity to go from being hospitable where we are now to also understanding ourselves as sent, as on the move, because Jesus calls us together into the church, but more importantly sends us back out again. ("Vocation" means calling [in], of course, but you could also say that it means sending--out.) No one reminds us more eloquently than Barbara Brown Taylor that we are not "consumers" but "providers of God's love": "In a world that can be hard and scary sometimes, it is tempting to think of the church as a hideout, the place where those of us who know the secret password can gather to celebrate our good fortune. As we repeat our favorite stories and eat the food that has been prepared for us, it is tempting to think of ourselves as consumers of God's love, chosen people who have been given more good gifts than we can open at one sitting: healing, forgiveness, restoration, resurrection. Then one day the Holy Spirit comes knocking at the door, disturbing our members-only meeting and reminding us that it is time to share." There is so much more in her beautiful sermon on this speech of Jesus, about "agents," not "assistants," of God, traveling light and sharing what they themselves have received: "What must it be like not only to talk dependence on God but to live it everyday for a year, understanding that reliance on God equals reliance on the hospitality of others? That kind of knowledge," she writes, "could change a person for good...." It could also inspire a young person to want to grow up and give her own life, wholeheartedly, to the promises of God.
For Further Reflection
Francis Xavier, 16th century Jesuit missionary
Be great in little things.
William Blake, 19th century
Mercy is the golden chain by which society is bound together.
Martin Luther, 16th century
Where there are no good works, there is no faith. If works and love do not blossom forth, it is not genuine faith, the gospel has not gained a foothold, and Christ is not yet rightly known.
Soren Kierkegaard, 19th century
Mercy has converted more souls than zeal, or eloquence, or learning or all of them together.
G.K. Chesterton, 20th century
The Christian faith has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult, and left untried.
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