By the Rev’d Hilary Willett

Season: Refugee Sunday

Readings: 2 Kings 5:1-14 | Gal 6:(1-6), 7-16 | Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

I have a confession. I love scripture, but as far as readings go, this gospel reading is… not my favourite. It’s not because there is anything particularly wrong with this passage; it is a reasonably straightforward story.

To give a bit of context, in previous chapters of Luke, Jesus has been in Bethsaida, proclaiming the good news, teaching and healing. He is now keen to begin travelling back towards Jerusalem. On his journey back, he and his disciples had encountered a few areas in Samaria that did not offer any hospitality to him or his disciples. Incidentally, withholding hospitality to a wandering person, particularly Israelite persons, is actually a significant deal in itself, and I could focus my sermon on just this topic. However, this is not our gospel this morning. In response to not finding hospitality, Jesus decides to send out some of his followers to prepare the way for him.

This is where our gospel reading begins. In our reading, Jesus sends out seventy followers ahead of him to prepare the way for him. These followers are given very specific instructions: to enter into receptive homes, declare the nearness of the kingdom, and presumably perform miraculous signs (given that when the seventy return, they are amazed at their power over spirits). For the homes that are not receptive, the followers are instructed to shake the dust off their sandals in protest. There is a fairly harsh judgment implicit here, both culturally (given the Jewish expectation to be hospitable to wanderers), but possibly also spiritually. Jesus appears to be discerning both who is hospitable and who is open to his message.

This passage is not a particularly complicated or controversial reading, so I’m guessing that a few of you are wondering why I don’t like it much. And that is a fair question! The answer is that the retelling that I have given you is a little different to the interpretation I was given when I was young.

As many of you know by now, I grew up in a very different tradition. My home church is actually a very lovely church, relatively progressive for its space, and very focused on mission. But my family were a little more conservative, and there were pockets of interesting perspectives in the church (as there often are). And in one of these pockets, my teenage self was trained to evangelise on street corners. And this was one of the passages referred to in my training.

Unfortunately, the exegetical work of the other young adults using this passage left a bit to be desired. It didn’t matter how you shared the gospel, as long as you did. It didn’t matter if you crossed consensual boundaries or ethical lines; the most important thing was to share the gospel. And, here’s where our gospel reading comes in: if people didn’t listen, that’s their failing. We should just move on, inwardly shaking the dust from our sandals because they are rejecting Christ.

Perhaps fortunately, my introverted self (I was much shyer then) found the idea of approaching multiple strangers, like a door-to-door salesperson, deeply uncomfortable. So after awkwardly standing around with some fliers for ten minutes, I handed them back to the leader and went home. Thus ended my brief, very effective, career as a street evangelist. My lesson from that experience is this: “Don’t underestimate teenage awkwardness. It protects us rather well.”

So now you know why this gospel reading is not a favourite. I remember the pressure placed on me as a young person to convert. I remember how high the stakes were – heaven or hell. And I remember worrying about whether God was mad at me for leaving the “street-corner mission field” afterwards. I’m not sure if any of you have encountered this kind of Christianity before? How did you find it? If you are comfortable, take a moment to reflect on how you found the experience for yourself, or talk with a trusted neighbour about it.

Okay, coming back.

I suspect that there are a few different stories out there about this topic. Some of you may have encountered public evangelism in positive ways. But I suspect a few of us have not. And because of this, I would like to suggest a slightly different interpretation of this passage. If you do not find this helpful, then that is okay. I just want to present an alternative.

Something that I think is often missed in our gospel reading is that the people who were sent out to prepare the way for Jesus were not occupying a position of power. They were vulnerable. Many were not wealthy or influential, and in this case, they were specifically travelling without money. You could interpret this individualistically, as a mere test of their faith in God to provide. Or you could interpret this communally, as a call to both his followers and their potential hosts for interdependence, humility, and openness. A societal call towards generosity.

It is also worth noting that Jesus did this in a culturally sensitive manner. From within their culture and their context, Jesus sent his followers to rely on common hospitality norms. And while Jesus’ followers were clearly given some authority, it is difficult to avoid the reality that they were largely being asked to be dependent on others, which is a vulnerable position. A humble position. A message from the vulnerable to the hospitable. Not privilege speaking down, but vulnerability speaking up.

I am also conscious that vulnerability and cultural sensitivity was not the vibe of the room where I was trained to witness on street corners. More often, it felt like we were being psyched up to exert power, sometimes even condescending power. We weren’t being relational or contextual; we were forcing a perspective regardless of the other person’s wishes in our decidedly non-confrontational culture of Aotearoa. Is this really an example of effective mission in our place and space?

As much as I found this week’s reading hard, after getting over my initial struggle, I did start to notice a different kind of mission present in the reading. A vulnerable mission. Jesus was instructing dependence, relationality, and context. And certainly, there was an ethical edge in refusing to be kind to the vulnerable wanderer, perhaps in the same way that there is an ethical edge in marginalising vulnerable communities now.

And for me, what I love about this vulnerable view of mission is that it is no less demanding or gospel oriented than evangelism on a street corner. And, if we are being really honest here, how much of that practice is about numbers and easy measures of success?

It is a demanding gospel focus to care for the marginalised. It is a demanding gospel focus to make ourselves vulnerable and align ourselves with others who are vulnerable. We preach this gospel every time we work for the foodbank. Every time we uphold the sacredness of creation. Every time we advocate for people who cannot do this for themselves. Today, we particularly remember the plight of refugees, who are in very similar positions to the wanderers in our gospel. We speak the gospel loudly in moments when we allow ourselves to align with them, alongside Jesus’ in his vulnerable mission.

And perhaps, this was the real problem with what I was taught, as a teenager, about this passage. That mission was about power; Jesus’ mission was vulnerable.

We live in a world that is obsessed with power, status, numbers, influence. It is not surprising really. These things are comfortable, measurable, and safe. It is easy to put that lens on the gospel too, and miss the humility, insecurity, and frailty that so marked the final years of Jesus’ life. We look at the number of his followers and not the spirit of his message: “good news” for the poor, the captives, the blind and the oppressed (Lk 4:18-19). How do we hold on to this vulnerable mission? This mission of relational interdependence, openness to God, and generosity? How do we keep remembering deeply that this is mission, that it is demanding, and that it is good news? I pray that we find a way. I pray that we know that the best Christian witness doesn’t often happen on street corners, but when we make ourselves vulnerable alongside Jesus.