Matthew 10: 24–39
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Lord, may we hear your voice in the words spoken in your Name. Amen.
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Last week – well, really after Trinity Sunday – we entered
into the long liturgical season of Ordinary Time, which asks us to
celebrate the commonplace in our lives and seek out the God who dwells
with us in that place, quietly, peacefully. After the anticipation
of Advent, the celebration of Christmas, the long journey of Lent and
the exuberance of Easter, we are asked to settle down and appreciate
the unobtrusive Presence of the Lord all around us in our quieter, more
ordinary days.
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That, anyway, is the idea. But you would never know — from
reading our Gospel passage this morning — that Ordinary Time is
now our season. For in Matthew’s Gospel this morning nothing
seems ordinary. Everything the disciples have known before is
being challenged and upended. New challenges, in fact, are facing
them and new levels of courage and wisdom are being asked of
them. What is ordinary about that?
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After a couple of days of pondering that question, (and coming up,
I have to admit, with few answers) I suddenly remembered
something. I remembered when Jesus first called the disciples to
follow after him, he promised he would teach them to become
fishers of men. And becoming anything – anything you
haven’t been before — takes time. It also requires
change, and not just change but transformation.
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And when I saw this Gospel passage through that lens, I saw it in a
new light. Maybe at first, the disciples simply sat at
Jesus’ feet, listening and learning. They watched him
as he performed miracles. They saw how often he
retreated to some deserted place to pray – just to stay connected
to the Father he loved. And they followed him into highways
and byways, learning every day the compassion and concern, the joy
and generous fellowship his ministry was all about. This
was the first stage of their learning process.
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But this morning, the time of sitting quietly at Jesus’ feet is
over. Now, he says, it is their turn to go out and
minister — to heal the sick and raise the dead, to cleanse the
lepers and give sight to the blind. As they do this, Jesus tells
them, the real challenge won’t be the acts of mercy and miracle
they will perform – by God’s grace — for those in
need. The real challenge will be to handle the mockers, the
scorners, the ones jealous of their spiritual authority. These
ones, Jesus tells them, will try to pick fights with them because of
the God they serve. So the disciples will be, he tells them,
like vulnerable sheep among a pack of wolves. To survive, they
will have to be wise as serpents and innocent as doves, trusting the
Lord who has sent them out there to the world he loves, the world he
will give his own life for.
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That’s the paradox of the Cross. And that’s the
secret of this passage – that those disciples will follow Jesus
not in fear or blind obedience, but in love. For it is
love for him and love for the world he loves that will motivate them
and strengthen them. And that love, in turn, will transform them
into the extraordinary disciples they need to become to carry out
Jesus’ call on their lives.
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Oh, Jesus knows it won’t be easy. For the servant is not
above the master. If the world has treated him badly, his
disciples can expect nothing better. If people have falsely
accused him of serving Satanic forces, they will accuse his disciples
of that and more. Even their own families will misunderstand,
he tells them. This, in fact, Jesus tells them, is what they
can expect in ministry. This is what Ordinary Time for
the servants of the Lord looks like.
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Even so, they are not to be afraid. They are to focus on the
love rather than the fear, trusting that the sword Jesus wields
will separate out the love he has called them to — from the
hatred that opposes them. For he knows the difference. And
he knows on which side of that dividing line they stand.
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His Father too, Jesus says, knows them intimately, inside and
out. He has numbered every hair on their heads. “In
your own eyes,” Jesus tells them, “You might be among the
sparrows of this world, the ones they sell two for a penny in the
marketplace. But in my Father’s eyes you are of infinite
value, the apple of his eye, the child he has cherished from the very
beginning. And he will be with you in this difficult ministry I
have called you to. He will be with you every step of the way.
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“So you can proclaim my truth to the world, even when they oppose
you. Don’t be afraid to say to them in the light what I
have whispered to you in the darkness. For always there will be
some who will receive your words. Always there will be some
who will welcome you as the servant of God you are already
becoming. And it’s for these ones I am sending you out
now.”
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These are the words Jesus spoke – to those first–century
disciples as he prepared to send them out. And these are the words
he speaks to us this morning too. For no less than Peter and
Andrew, James and John, you too have been called to follow Jesus in the
loving path he has begun to lay out for you. You too are among
those he has chosen to redeem the world for which he gave his own life.
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God knows, it isn’t an easy path. God knows, already you
have discovered some conflict, some opposition, some voices that would
lure you off the path he has chosen for you. But just as we sang
a few moments ago, Love Himself, Love Divine now dwells in your
heart – guiding you, strengthening you, transforming you into his
own new creation. That’s the love others now see in
you. And that is the love that will bring you
home . . . to Him.
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Amen.
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