Third Sunday After Pentecost
Rev. Brent Gundlah
Many fathers and father-figures tend to dispense advice — sometimes with complete disregard as to whether it was actually solicited from the recipient in the first place. And I must admit that I am one such father; this seems to be a truth worth acknowledging on Father’s Day of all days.
On one such occasion, one of my daughters was looking at an ad for an interesting vocational opportunity, but when she read the list of attributes the employer was looking for she suddenly seemed dejected: “I’m just not qualified for this job,” she said.
So I tried to formulate some supportive advice in response; “Not once in my life have I had a job that I actually felt qualified to do,” was what I came up with. And it’s absolutely true. I realize that this may not exactly be what you want to hear from the minister you called to do this job, but I’m just being honest.
I can’t help but wonder whether 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 the hearts and minds of the disciples that day when Jesus called them? What were they thinking and feeling that day when Jesus decided to commission them as apostles?
As today’s passage from Matthew begins, Jesus’s new ministry is really 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 him begins to spread, the demand 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 way stronger; it means to be moved in the very pit of one’s stomach — literally, to have one’s intestines tied in knots.
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; the ubiquity of their need has really stressed him out. He desperately wants to reach them all, but even he can’t be everywhere at once. And so Jesus hangs up the metaphorical “Help Wanted” sign.
He summons the twelve disciples, gives them authority to exorcise unclean spirits, grants them 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 in his name.
But before they go, Jesus delivers a speech that’s come to be known as the “Missionary Discourse.” Here, Jesus lets the 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 his five books of the Torah and since, for Matthew, Jesus is the new Moses, he makes a point of recording five of Jesus’s discourses in his account of the gospel. Our reading for today represents roughly the first half of the Missionary Discourse.
I can’t help but wonder whether Jesus’s words here would have been inspirational or intimidating to these brand-new apostles, these twelve 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 realize, however, that this was the easy part of the job.
These men are told to go and minister only to their own brothers and sisters in Galilee, 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, tended to receive in their hometowns. These apostles will be walking into the most hostile territory of them all, but Jesus seems to believe that it’s essential for them to get their own house in order before sharing the gospel with others. Who knows? Maybe it still is.
Because this all happened way back in the first century, Jesus’s first recruits weren’t 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.
But these apostles had to be 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 gold or silver 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, people’s reactions 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.
That all sounds like fun.
And yet, even after receiving from Jesus what is arguably the worst recruitment pitch in human history, these twelve folks actually decide to follow him; they choose to go out into hostile territory in order to spread the good news.
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 fellow Jews were hostile to their ministry. It must have seemed as though absolutely everything was aligned against them.
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.
They fought more than once over which one of them was the most important disciple (which, for the record, kind of misses the whole point of being a disciple).
They often seemed to lack conviction in and dedication to 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 to deliver a message of repentance and forgiveness, to seek justice and righteousness for all God’s children, and to call upon people to love their neighbor as themselves.
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 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 is the one that really matters.