Go Humbly

Text: Luke 10:1–11, 17–20

Marshal McLuhan, a thoughtful philosopher of modern culture, wrote that the medium is the message. The delivery vehicle of the message conveys the message at least as much if not more than the content. At the time, this was a radical idea. That was fifty years ago. Now everyone knows this; the idea goes without saying. But it is not really a new idea. In the story we just heard in the Gospel of Luke, the point is at least as much about the messengers—the medium—as it is the news they bring.

Jesus sends out thirty-five pairs (or maybe thirty-six; it depends on which source you use)—pairs of apostles, sent out into the towns. Their mission is clear and explicit. They are to depend on the hospitality of others. They take only the clothes on their backs.

But more important, they offer a kind of hospitality of their own. They make no judgments. They come only when invited. They eat what is put in front of them, sharing whatever the family eats, whether or not they like it. They heal the people who come to them. They make no demands, they have no interest in exploiting the good will of their hosts. They do not try to find the best accommodations. They are content with what there is and what comes their way. Besides all that, they announce good news about the nearness of God’s kingdom. Of which their actions are examples.

What they do not do is berate people, convince people, try to sign them up for something, make them join something. They carry with them a kind of power invested in them by Jesus—an apostolic authority, you could say. But that authority is not to boss folks around or manipulate them or to enlist them. Nor does it demand that people respect them or even pay attention. The authority gives them the power to heal people and the courage to freely reside with people without disapproving of them and the willingness to be vulnerable and take risks. All great gifts.

The disciples are sent to prepare the way; they are not the way itself. It is not about them. They are not proud. They represent Jesus and the new world that he brings. A new way of being. At best, they are the signs of that world. Signals. They therefore do not rejoice in their own good fortunes or the thrill of power. They are happy that have been given the power to heal people, freeing them from the demons that inhabit and control them. The disciples can walk among snakes and scorpions. But Jesus cautions them. They are not to rejoice in their own ability to accomplish great things. They are known in heaven—not meaning that they will get their just rewards someday, but rather that God knows them and their deeds already. They are quiet saints. Servants, as it says elsewhere, and as Apostle Paul often writes.

These 70 (or 72) disciples are humble, modest, and obedient. These are tough words for us. Even though they sound nice, we rarely long to be humble, modest, or obedient. We do not aspire to these things, nor admire them in our social models. They sound weak, for one thing.

These are words that describe relationships in which we are equal to others, or even in which others are greater than we. They are not about relationships in which we excel, dominate, prevail, control, or determine. They are words which seem to call us to deny our selves. Something Jesus talks about at length elsewhere. Approvingly.

Compassion, central to the Christian life, grows from humility, modesty, and obedience. To be compassionate requires a recognition of the suffering of others. To empathize. To recognize that the suffering of someone else is no less than our suffering is. That all people suffer exactly as we do. We have no special authority therefore to inflict suffering on others. And we do have special obligation to relieve the suffering of others.

Saying that the disciples are saints does not imply that they are special in some innate way. Humility, modesty, and obedience are not character traits—inborn, immutable, unattainable abilities. They are skills. As skills, they can be taught—that’s what Jesus did and does. As skills, they improve with practice. They are important and effective even when you do them poorly.

This story appears only in Luke. Of the four Gospel writers, Luke is the most interested in the mission of the early church. And of the four, Luke is also the most interested in social and economic justice. The Magnificat of Mary is in Luke, at the very beginning. The good news that she feels carrying Jesus is the prospect of the restoration of the kingdom of God. Things will be ordered differently; better—less vertical, more horizontal. The peace that the disciples offer, and the announcement they bring to the towns, is shalom—the peace of things that are now out of kilter being once more in line with God’s intent.

Perhaps what the disciples do seems trivial, or only marginally effective. But what they do is the message of Christianity. When people are most moved by Christianity, it is because they sometimes see in Christians generosity, compassion, and persistence in the face of fear. What we do as Christians is the message.

The disciples—who as always stand for us—are getting lessons in humility, modesty, and obedience. They take great risks. They come back overjoyed. They are coached in their tasks. They are not required to find their own way to follow Jesus. They are given instruction and guidance.

Their mission is not to make more Christians. It is to heal and offer modest hospitality to all. And to talk about a new world.

We in this age are in the middle of a moral crisis. People feel they have authority to inflict suffering on others. They do not feel a special obligation to relieve the suffering of others. This is not a new crisis, but it seems to me more urgent. Our arrogance and self-satisfaction are not safe.

Jesus announces a new way. But the message will be heard only if it is lived out in the lives of the messengers.