Third Sunday after Pentecost
“Sending the Twelve” — Rev. Brent Gundlah
First Reading (Exodus 19:2-8a/NRSVUE)
Gospel Reading (Matthew 9:35-10:8/NRSVUE)
There seems to be no shortage of lousy to go around right now; so many people have been negatively impacted by all that’s going on these days. There is just so much pain and suffering and sorrow and loss and frustration and anger of various kinds and degrees out there that it’s hard to comprehend and process it all. And while things could certainly be a whole lot worse, that’s not terribly reassuring because they’re pretty bad.
Do you remember when people used to talk about creating a better world for future generations? That’s a dream that’s kind of hard to fathom these days. As a parent of twenty-somethings, I often find myself thinking about (and worrying about) all of the young adults like them who are missing out on things that we enjoyed and took for granted (health insurance and freedom of speech, to name just two) and who are now confronted by both a grim present and an uncertain future.
And on top of everything else they are dealing with, they also have to try to find jobs at a time when good ones — full time, with benefits — aren’t as easy to come by as they used to be. In the U.S., the official top-line or U3 Unemployment Rate is currently just over four percent (which is okay), but the U6 Unemployment Rate — a broader measure that includes marginally attached workers and those who are employed part-time — is almost double that and the gap between the U3 and U6 continues to widen meaning that it’s getting tougher and tougher to find full-time work. I used to be in finance so I sometimes look at these things, but I shouldn’t because I find them depressing. And I’m certainly not the only one who’s feeling down.
Not long ago one of my daughters was looking at an ad for a job opportunity that she thought sounded really interesting, but when she read the list of attributes the employer was looking for in an employee she suddenly seemed dejected: “I’m just not qualified for this job,” she said.
Being her Dad, I felt compelled to come up with a response that was somewhat reassuring and supportive, and this is what I went with: “Not once in my life have I ever had a job I actually felt qualified to do” (including the one I have now). And I didn’t feel the slightest bit disingenuous for saying this, because it’s absolutely true. This may not exactly be the kind of thing you want to hear your pastor say, but I can’t lie to you either.
I wonder if these twelve guys who’d been following Jesus around felt the same way — you know, Simon, also known as Peter, and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee, and his brother John; Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; Simon the Cananaean, and Judas Iscariot, the one who betrayed him.
What was going on in their hearts and minds when Jesus summoned them and gave them authority to cure the sick and raise the dead and cast out demons? What were they thinking and feeling that day on which Jesus chose to make them apostles?
As today’s passage from the First Gospel begins, Jesus’s ministry really seems to be getting some traction. He’s been going around to “all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness.” But as word about Jesus begins to spread, the demand for all that he has to offer becomes overwhelming.
We’re told that Jesus has compassion for these growing crowds that are constantly coming to him seeking help, but this is kind of an understatement. The Greek word translated here as “compassion” actually speaks to something a bit stronger; it means to be moved in the very pit of one’s stomach, to have one’s intestines tied in knots. Many of know what that feels like these days.
All of these harassed and helpless people, all of these sheep without a shepherd, have provoked that kind of a visceral, sympathetic reaction in Jesus; their plight has him really stressed out. He desperately wants to reach them all, but even he can’t be everywhere at once. And so Jesus feels the need to hang up the “Help Wanted” sign.
He summons the twelve disciples, gives them authority to exorcise unclean spirits and the ability to cure illnesses (powers that only Jesus himself has had up to this point), and then sends them out into the world to do this essential work.
But before they go, Jesus delivers a speech that has come to be known as the “Missionary Discourse.” Here Jesus lets the new apostles know not only what they’re supposed to do, but also what they’re in for. This is the second of Jesus’s five great discourses in Matthew’s Gospel — the first of them being the Sermon on the Mount.
Moses had the five books of the Torah and since, for Matthew, Jesus is the new Moses, the author of the First Gospel makes a point of recording five of Jesus’s discourses. Our reading for today is roughly the first half of Jesus’s Missionary Discourse.
I can’t help but wonder whether Jesus’s marching orders here would have intimidated these brand-new apostles, these twelve men who seemingly had no qualifications to do what this incredibly difficult job would entail.
Jesus tells them that they are to proclaim the good news, cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, and cast out demons. Sure, they’d never actually done any of this on their own before, but they have been watching Jesus preach and teach and heal for a while now — and besides, Jesus himself has now given them the authority to do so. The apostles would soon come to realize, however, that this was the easy part.
These men of Galilee are told to go and minister to their own brothers and sisters, the lost sheep of Israel, not among the Gentiles or the Samaritans — and we all know the kind of reception that biblical prophets, including Jesus, tend to receive in their hometowns. So the apostles will be walking into perhaps the most hostile territory of them all, but Jesus seems to believe that it’s essential for God’s chosen people to get their own house in order before evangelizing to others — and maybe it still is.
Because this all happened way back in the first century, Jesus’s first recruits weren’t exactly expecting him to speak to them about things like salary, health and dental insurance, eligibility for the 401(k) plan, or how much paid vacation time they’d be receiving in connection with their new positions.
And yet, these apostles had to be pretty surprised to hear that they’d be completely dependent upon the kindness of strangers for whatever support they needed as they travelled about doing the work of ministry.
Jesus tells the twelve that they will need to travel light — and by that I mean really light; they are to take with them no precious metals to pay their way, no bag full of clothes and shoes to keep themselves comfortable.
If they happen to receive a warm welcome where they go, so be it – they should stay for a while and spread the good news; if they don’t, so be it — they should shake off the dust from their feet and move on.
Sometimes, though, the people’s reaction will be markedly less civil. Jesus tells the apostles that they will be handed over to councils and flogged in the synagogues;
they will be dragged before governors and kings because of Jesus and the work he has called them to do;
they will be considered outcasts in their own families;
they will be hated because of Christ’s name.
And yet, even after receiving from Jesus what is perhaps the worst recruitment pitch in human history, these twelve men actually decide to follow him; they choose to go out into hostile territory in order to spread the gospel.
It’s absolutely ridiculous when you stop and think about it, but this unlikely group that Jesus assembles here becomes the very foundation upon which Jesus will build the entire church.
Simon Peter and Andrew, James and John are fisherman; Matthew is a tax collector — not a one of them seems at first glance to be qualified to teach and preach and heal.
They lived and worked in a difficult place and time; they were Jews suffering under the oppression of imperial Rome and at least some of their own people were hostile to their ministry. It must have seemed as though absolutely everything was aligned against them.
And they weren’t exactly of a common mind on all things — Matthew worked for the Romans while Simon the Cananaean was part of a group that actively sought Jewish independence from Rome — by resorting to violence, if necessary.
They fought on occasion over which one of them was the greatest disciples (which pretty much misses the whole point of being a disciple in the first place).
They often seemed to lack complete conviction in the one they were following: Thomas doubted Jesus, Peter denied him, and Judas betrayed him.
And yet they still managed to go out into the world preaching a gospel of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, seeking justice and righteousness for all God’s children, and calling upon people to love their neighbor.
But it’s not really about the apostles or what they think they are capable of doing; it’s about God, and what God is capable of doing through them. As Jesus says to the apostles here, “Do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say; for it is not you who speak but the Spirit of your God speaking through you.”
God is, of course, still speaking.
For all of our faults and weaknesses, amidst all of our current problems and challenges,
God is still speaking — to us and through us.
We might not think that we’re qualified for the job, but God does.
And God’s opinion on the subject is the one that really matters.