After this the Lord appointed seventy others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. He said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house!’ And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’ But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, ‘Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.’ . . . Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me, and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.” The seventy returned with joy, saying “Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!” He said to them, “I watched Satan fall from heaven like a flash of lightning. See, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing will hurt you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” (Luke 10:1–11,16–20)
“The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few . . . . Go on your way.”
This biblical pep rallying rhetoric, these missionary marching instructions are particular to the Gospel of Luke. And they begin with the commissioning of a group of 70 (or 72, depending upon which manuscript you consult) good folks, not unlike ourselves, who are compelled to go forth in pairs, two by two, and deliver the twofold message that we are 1) to promote peace on earth, and 2) to rest assured that God’s Kingdom is near.
This passage mirrors the passage in Luke that gathers and calls the twelve disciples to Jesus at the start of his mission. It tells us that not just the disciples are called to follow Christ, the whole body of Christ’s church is called to this mission as well, or at least 70 of us are so called . . . and, of course, we know who we are!
But this is a worrisome bit of scripture for me. And I think that my concern is primarily seated in the apocalyptic language that is rare in Luke’s Gospel. It seems a combative reading that, for the first time in Luke’s Gospel, cites Satan by name as the evil presence in our world. And it seems more akin to the histrionics in the Book of Revelation than the more inclusive community dispatch of the historian Luke. It positions our mission as Christians, not in terms of kindness and compassion, mercy and love, respect and inclusivity — here, our mission is clearly articulated: we are to go out as lambs into the midst of wolves, forbidden from greeting anyone who gets in the way of our single minded mission, given the authority to tread on snakes and scorpions and over all the enemy, and if we are unswerving in our commitment to God’s mission and message, then, and I quote: Satan will fall from heaven like a flash of lightning . . . and nothing will hurt us. Whoever listens to us listens to Jesus and listens to God — AND whoever rejects us rejects Jesus and rejects God. We are invincible in God’s battalion against our opposition!
Yikes! So this is where my brother and his Christian-right compatriots get their material. This is where all of that hellfire and damnation stuff comes from. It actually is in the Gospel. This is where the Gospel tells us that we are called to be, born to be, mandated to be God’s mouthpiece on this earth and that we have been given the power and the authority to trample anyone and everyone who rejects God’s mission . . . to wipe out all who oppose God’s mandate . . . to summarily defeat the ones who deny, denounce and/or dismiss God’s message. . . . We, like the messengers in this passage, will return from our battles and say — Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us! What a rush! In this passage we are commissioned as God’s own warriors with all of the weaponry and whoopla required to do the job, to spread the Word of God . . . to . . . to . . . to . . .
But wait a minute . . . what was the message again? What are we to go on our way and proclaim with the power and might of the All Powerful and Almighty behind us? . . . What was it that we are to risk life and limb (ours and our adversaries) to insist while resting assured that God’s Kingdom is near? . . . Oh, yeh, peace on earth. Peace is the message.
And that’s the part that is often forgotten, lost in the fervency of the battle cry, the message often seems disconnected from the arsenal that is its guarantee. We often get so tangled up in the battle, so immersed in the cause, so committed to the issue that we forget our mission: to promote peace on earth. God’s peace, grounded in justice and love. The peace of Christ that passes all understanding — that is what we are sent out to proclaim.
Simple. And yet, I have spent a good deal of my life trying to discern exactly how I am called to spread that message. How am I to spend my life promoting peace on earth? Not in a grand strategic way, but in an every day, regular, ordinary, what will I do for a living sort of way. Maybe you have struggled with the same questions. And in light of this morning’s Gospel, I am set again on that train of thought: what exactly are we being called to do?
I am certainly not wanting or willing to go door to door, house to house spreading the Good News as is literally instructed in this morning’s passage. I am happy to leave that intrusive work to the Mormons and the Jehovah’s Witnesses. I am not meaning to be flip about that work. It may be God’s work, but it is not my work. But what exactly is my work? Exactly how am I called by God to promote God’s peace?
That is to say, what part of my calling is a figment of my own construction, my own desire, my own imagination? And what part is God’s imagination, God’s intention, God’s dream for me and my life in God’s world? What part is by my choice? What part is by God’s design? . . . And I do mean by design. Not by accident. Not by mistake. Not by the flip of a coin, or the luck of the draw, or the crumble of a cookie. I mean by design. God’s design of me and of you. The special and incredible design of each and every one of us. For we are, as Psalm 139 in the Hebrew Bible reminds us all, regardless of our faith tradition, marvelously and wonderfully made. Specially designed, by God. The label, the designer label, etched on each and every human heart. It is the label that accords us each and all a level of dignity that we can scarcely imagine, let alone honor in each other as a matter of course. And it is precisely that image of God, etched for all time, that constitutes the difference between the parts of us that illuminate our divine design and the parts of us that belie our earthly desires.
I began to struggle with this distinction between my choice and God’s design when I began to realize how truly specially made, as it were, I was. It was about the time I began to realize that I cared more about badminton than boys. And let me tell you, I did not care that much about badminton. It was about the time that I began to question whether or not I was part of God’s plan, God’s design; called to deliver God’s message like every other missioner — or . . . not.
About three months ago I took the job of Executive Director at the Religious Coalition for the Freedom to Marry. I had been approached about the job in the past and had dismissed it on several occasions for a whole host of reasons. I had the corporate experience necessary to run a small organization, but I was not a “gay rights” activist. Despite my wondrous design, I had never been all that committed to the gay community, and although I was a supporter, I had never lent my time or talent to that agenda. I had always been more concerned about poverty and the planet and a spectrum of more . . . as I saw them, universal injustices. But, for some reason, this time, the President of the Board who is also my dear friend and mentor, and actually, my boss at St. John’s in JP where I am the Associate Rector, asked me with a more . . . determined, shall we say, demeanor than ever before. And so this time I heeded her call and I took the job.
That very week, my mother (who lives in Peoria, Illinois) called to congratulate me, or maybe I called her to congratulate me . . . whatever, but she said, “darlin’, good for you. That’s just great. (looooong pause) Gay people should have the same rights as straight people. But, in most things you already do, don’t you. So tell me again why you want to spend your time on this. . . . I mean, it’s important, but what about all those homeless people you have up there in Boston? What about the war? What about global warming? Aren’t there bigger problems to spend your life fixing?”
And to my own amazement, I heard myself respond without hesitation. The answer, etched on my very heart, flowed from my lips, as my granddaddy would have said, as quick as goose poop flows through a tin horn (he did not beat around the bush!). “No!” I almost shouted. “There is not one thing. There is not one problem that is bigger than this one. There is not one thing that is more important than celebrating, supporting and ensuring the dignity and diversity-by-design, of God’s creation.” Full stop.
“This fight for equal marriage is not about securing a few more benefits for a few more people. It is about how we view and treat each other as God’s creations. It is about honoring God’s design, no matter how distinct from the dominant culture, no matter how unpopular, no matter how inconvenient or distasteful it may be to the arbiters of taste and decorum. It is about recognizing and honoring the dignity that is etched on all of creation by the Creator. And the disregard of that dignity is at the root of every single ‘bigger’ problem that threatens our lives and our communities and world and our planet.”
“The fight to protect equal marriage is not about raising the gay community to the status quo. It is about believing that we, each and all of us, are marvelously and wondrously made. This fight is about opening up the realm of possibility for the rest of our community. . . . We are broadening the horizons of our collective imagination. . . . We are forging new frontiers of hope and expectation for the whole of humanity. We are doing nothing less than revisioning the world. This is about the way we value and relate to each other as human beings. And that, it seems to me, is all there is.”
There was another long pause. And my mother said: “Oh. How are the dogs?”
The point is that all of a sudden I saw my part in this great march toward peace on earth. It was not where I had expected it to be, but, here we are marching out, in pairs, committed couples, two by two — laborers for God’s harvest. It was in that moment with my mother that I had not expected, was not prepared for, had not anticipated, that I so clearly and concisely articulated my calling. It was in the relationship with another human being that I was able to get my arms around my own purpose, my own meaning and belonging, my own commitment to peace on earth.
We are all called, each and every one of us, to promote God’s peace. How we are called to promote that peace is woven into the marvelous and mysterious fabric of our particular lives. And even though it may be more obvious to some than to others at this particular juncture, if we keep our eye on the message, the mission, the mandate to promote peace, rather than focusing on the power and Almighty authority that facilitates our work, then, I think we will be on our way . . . each in our own way . . . and yet, together on a common way. The way is of peace — as the beloved Zen Master Ticht Nhat Han says: “There is no way to peace, peace is the way.” And when I read this morning’s Gospel through that lens, it is both the challenge and the assurance of the Good News.
“The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few . . . . Go on your way.” To peace, in peace.
Amen.