Matthew 10:40-42 "On a Wing and a Prayer - and Something More"

         The twelve disciples were ready to go out into the world. Onward and upward!  We found that out last week.  Each one had chosen to accept the seemingly impossible mission that Jesus set before them:  Loving when loving would appear to be impossible or, at the very least, highly disagreeable and even fearsome.  In accepting their mission, of course, the twelve also embraced the profound responsibility they shouldered for the powers that had been bestowed upon them. 

         In spite of any initial misgivings, they were about to embark on a faith journey that would lead them down dusty urban alleyways and backwater rural communities in order to heal the sick, touch the untouchable, cast out demons, and even raise the dead in Jesus’ name.  Quite a courageous undertaking, to be sure – seeing as how Jesus had told them in more ways than one that they had an excellent chance of being rejected along the way – sometimes by entire towns and villages. He likened their journey to sheep finding themselves penned in with wolves.  Not a great real confidence booster!

         Jesus had coached Peter, James, John, and the others in how to behave and what they should take with them.  First off, they were to share in his own poverty, sense of homelessness, and lack of permanent roots.  He told them they were to carry no money – gold, silver, or copper.  That being said, they were also under no circumstances to pretend to be beggars in order to ensure their evening meal or a place to sleep.  Instead they were to simply offer a greeting of peace - and hope for the best.  Talk about heading out on a wing and a prayer!

          Jesus indicated that they would not need to carry a roller board or backpack either.  You see, he told them that the clothes on their back would be sufficient – not even an extra pair of sandals should a strap break or a walking stick to steady them on the long miles ahead.  At least, that is what the Gospel writer of Matthew outlines for us earlier in the chapter we just read. 

         According to this Gospel writer, Jesus had also given his followers a whole host of instructions, which we learned about last Sunday.  Remember? The disciples were to be courageous enough to speak out on difficult issues that flew in the face of God’s dream for the world.  They were not to be bullied by those who would surely laugh at their quaintly archaic perspectives. 

         They were not to be shut down by those who would loudly insist that non-violence was impractical in a world where tempers flared and terrorists roamed, or that compassion would only cause you to lose your shirt, or that all the indigent needed to do was show a bit of hutzpah, pull themselves up by their bootstraps, find jobs, and quit feeling so entitled to government handouts like Medicaid and healthcare subsidies.  

         Jesus told them not to let destructive family relationships get in the way of the Gospel message either.  Instead, he instructed them to bind themselves to and support communities – churches maybe - where like-minded people would work together for the kingdom that Jesus kept talking about, the kingdom that they had quickly discovered was the way life should be. 

         However, above all, he reminded them that they should undertake this perilous faith journey trusting that they never traveled alone.  The Spirit always hovered in their midst, nudging them here and there when the going got particularly tough. 

         When you come right down to it, the disciples were pretty vulnerable when they set out. Sure – they could raise the dead, but not being card-carrying NRA members, they had nothing tangible for their own protection and little to ensure their wellbeing. 

         When you think about it, they were dependent on the women and men they met along the way.  They could only extend their greeting of peace (“Peace be with you”) even as they proclaimed and lived out what Jesus had taught them.  They had to trust in the hospitality of those they encountered. 

          It would be a man moved to generosity who would share an evening meal with them.  It would be a compassionate person who would offer them a bed.  It would be a woman stirred to kindness who would wash their dirty, tired feet.   It would be a patient person who listened to the story of their day’s journey. 

         Their wellbeing was beyond their own control.  They were on their own unless someone took them in. Their welfare depended on the tender-heartedness of the strangers they encountered.  They had to rely on those who had something to share.  They counted on anyone who would extend a radical welcome.

         Jesus told the twelve that they had to put themselves out there and see what would happen.  And so they did – and because we are sitting here in church this morning, we have to presume that it worked as Jesus said it might.  There was something to be said for not only offering but also receiving hospitality.

         Welcome to Walmart!  Welcome to church!  Welcome to Applebee’s.  Table for two?  Unfortunately, the art of welcoming and hospitality has lost much of its original import and flavor over the millennia.  There is a certain breezy rote to it now. 

         It is like the woman who had invited some people to dinner.  At the table, she turned to her six-year-old daughter and said, "Would you like to say the blessing?" 

         "I wouldn't know what to say," the little girl replied. 

         "Just say what you hear Mommy say," the mother said.

         The little girl bowed her head and said, "Dear Lord, why on earth did I invite all these people to dinner?" 

         Gone are the days when the Biblical character Abraham welcomed three strangers who showed up on his desert doorstep and ushered them out of the blazing sun.  He and his wife Sarah prepared a feast for them only to find that, when dinner was over and the strangers had moved on, they had been entertaining angels, unaware.  Gone are the days when Mary broke open her alabaster jar of expensive oil and poured the perfume over Jesus’ feet, drying them with her hair as a sign of radical welcome and extravagant hospitality.  

         And yet, time and time again, as Episcopal writer Barbara Brown Taylor notes, "the Holy Spirit comes knocking at the door, disturbing our members-only meeting and reminding us that it is time to share."   It is time to welcome the stranger and share our nation with the world’s refugees, no matter their religious heritage. What are the words etched at the base of the Statue of Liberty?  “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to be free.”

         It is time to welcome the impoverished throughout the world by more equitably sharing our resources and demanding less in return – even if that means canceling debt and no longer having limitless choices at our meals. It is time to ensure that we have a planet suitable for sharing with our children and grandchildren.  As Christians, it is time to open our hearts, even as many around us are closing theirs.

         I remember on one of my 60-mile Susan G. Komen breast cancer walks, my sister and I were walking through a neighborhood outside of Philadelphia.  At the end of one driveway, a boy of about five or six sat on a small chair with a single 16 ounce bottle of water and a bunch of those little paper Dixie cups. 

         As we walked by, he poured a tiny bit of water in a cup and offered it to each walker.  Just as a tired dusty walker in Palestine loved a cup of cold water in Jesus’ day, so this 60-mile walker appreciated the kindness of that little boy. 

         Anyone can offer a gift that small. That is what Jesus said in this passage we read.  None of us is too old, too young, too busy, too financially strapped to share something, to extend hospitality.

         But what is in it for us, you might ask? What do we get out of all this faithful living? Jesus says at the very end of these verses that there is a reward.  Well, what is it?  A fast track to heaven?  Stars in our crown?  Endless prosperity? 

         As one blogger wrote, “Surely there has to be some kind of reward for serving faithfully! The first disciples certainly felt this was only fair. At one point Peter, who often seemed to be the spokesman for the others (a bit like a union rep), had this to say to Jesus: ‘We have left everything to follow you! What then will there be for us?’”

         What is the reward for choosing to live out the Gospel message in our own lives?  What is the reward for putting up with the laughter and bullying Jesus told his disciples they would have to put up with? What is the reward for speaking out and for being the hands and feet of Jesus in this day and age?

         The reward is this:  Experiencing, if only for a moment, God’s dream realized – and in that brief moment knowing viscerally that what we are called to do as Jesus’ followers is worth the bullying, the derisive laughter, and the culture all around us screaming it cannot be done.  

         The reward is seeing a child fed, a family held together, a refugee saved. The reward is seeing that God’s dream can become a reality – here, now, in this nation - and that we have a role in making that happen. And if that is not enough of a reward, well, I shudder for the world.

         Oh sure, there are those who will tell us that the church is dying and that our message is outdated and unworkable.  Jesus warned the disciples about that – and he was right. 

         There were those who rejected the twelve and those who turned their backs on them.  But there were others who were moved by the compassion they showed as they healed and the kindness they demonstrated as they listened and the courage they mustered up when they spoke out against the inequities and iniquities of the Roman world.

         In welcoming the twelve, those ancient men and women demonstrated that which lies at the core of Christian discipleship - extravagant and radical welcome.  It is at the heart of what Jesus preached and is the foundation of God’s dream for the world. Whoever welcomed those first disciples, well, it was like welcoming Jesus himself.

         And you know what?  I think Jesus knew that the disciples would be OK on their journey.  I think he knew that – though they may not have had two coins to rub together or a spare pair of sandals - they did have something of far greater value to share – and that would be themselves - awash in kindness and compassion. 

         I think Jesus knew that at least some of those people the disciples met would recognize the gift they brought - and would respond in turn – even down through ages – even to us.  It is as Church of Scotland pastor Roddy Hamilton reflected in this poem:

gather round
I have a story to tell
of one who reached inside himself
and took a handful of love
like a pile of stardust
and said: this is for you
it is all you need
it is all you will ever need
there is enough here
to change the whole world
take it
many laughed at him
mocked him
and ignored the invitation

but some dared to take it

and those who did
noticed something about this love
they found they could do what the gift-giver could do
they could stand with the lost
welcome the traveler
eat with the hungry
they found themselves doing what the man first did to them
give something of themselves to others
they became like the man
offering themselves
and as they offered themselves
others took the invitation
and many still do
and many still trust
it is enough to change the whole world

         

Welcome to the kingdom, to the way life should be.