Travel Lightly

Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

I have a confession to make. I am not a light traveler. Whether it’s an overnight trip or a move to a new place, I always bring more than any reasonable person would think is necessary. My siblings and I are notorious in our family for keeping our cars full- full of spare clothing, snacks, water bottles, books. We like to be prepared- you never know when you might need a clean shirt, or a second pair of shoes. Right now my car contains, among other things, multiple Bibles and prayer books, Home Communion bulletins, several pairs of shoes, and probably some evidence of road trip snacking. To be fair, in my ministry this past year I’ve spent more time in the car than any other job I’ve had. And, I have to admit that I was this way well before you invited me to join your ministries. I have never been a light traveler, and it makes me anxious every time I empty my car to make room for passengers or pets. What if I need something, and it isn’t there? What if I’m far from home without a change of clothes? What if my sandal breaks and I have nothing to replace it? I can’t even imagine moving through the world without my purse, my wallet, my bag. How on earth would I function?

If you were awake for the Gospel reading, you might be starting to see where I’m going with this. The instructions Jesus gives the 70 before sending them out into the world are instructions I would struggle with. I think most of us would. I don’t doubt that there are those among us who have known true scarcity, true itinerancy, true famine, for whom the challenge of carrying only the clothes on our backs is a memory, not an intellectual exercise. As someone who has known hunger, who has had to rely on the charity of others for my basic necessities, I am struck with anxiety when I imagine returning to that place again. There are far too many in this world, in this country, in this community for whom that feeling is constant. We stray into dangerous territory if we dwell too much on the spiritualization of poverty. Jesus is not endorsing a world in which we do not strive for safe housing, ample nutrition, and proper care for our neighbors. What he is extending is an invitation to travel lightly for his sake.

The fact that Jesus appoints 70, or in some translations 72, is not an arbitrary number. 70 is a number that frequently signifies all the nations of the known world in the Bible, indicating a global mission of evangelism. Jesus did not only send out the twelve to the people of Israel, but also 70 others to the people of all nations and faiths dwelling between himself and Jerusalem. These 70 were sent into Samaritan communities, Gentile communities, Roman communities. They themselves were likely a diverse bunch representing the universality of Jesus’s message. To count ourselves as disciples is to join the 70, the broad-reaching and diverse community of people called by God.

Those 70 were called as individuals, but they were sent as pairs. The work of the Gospel is hard work, and often lonely work. It is the kind of work best done in community, in partnership with fellow believers. The 70 were discouraged from carrying money or a change of clothes, but they never went anywhere without one another. When we catch ourselves attempting to bear the burdens of ministry alone, we have forgotten the partners God has entrusted to us. The life of faith is always a life lived in community, even when that community is one other person. Wherever two or three are gathered in the name of Jesus, we will find strength to continue the journey.

Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals. In each town stay in one house, eat whatever they give you without complaint, and offer them peace and goodwill. This part of the lesson might seem more familiar, as we are a people who value hospitality and aim to show it whenever and however we can. But there’s a challenge within it, because we are used to being the household that receives and feeds the guest. What does it mean for us to instead be the ones receiving the hospitality? How often do we allow ourselves to be the guests? It is just as much a ministry to be received as to receive, and in many ways it is a much more vulnerable position. As Jesus acknowledges, the evangelist will encounter rejection. The hungry traveler will sometimes find there is no room at the inn. It is a real risk to share the love of Jesus when we put our entire heart into it. Ministry is an investment, a gamble even. Sometimes that risk doesn’t pay off like we want it to. Jesus does not promise that his Good News will be accepted by everyone we encounter. What he does promise is that our offerings of peace and sincerity will always return to us, even when all we can do is shake the dust off and move on. To travel lightly is often to hold our goals loosely, to be driven not by outcomes but by faith in the God who provides the abundant harvest.

The communities of St Mark’s and Grace are at a point in our life cycles when the cost of ministry feels especially steep. We mourn remembered abundance as we admit that Jesus might have been onto something when he said the laborers are few. We miss people who aren’t here anymore, both those who have moved on to glory and those who have simply moved on. We are tired, and hungry, and the state of our purse does matter for our ministry in ways it may not have for our 70 intrepid ancestors. Many of us are carrying incredibly heavy burdens, and the idea of carrying one more thing, planning one more event, attending one more meeting feels overwhelming. We are not of one mind about the path ahead or even about the destination, and that is an uncomfortable place to be as a family.

But our Lord sent them out ahead of him in pairs, and they came back to him with joy. Jesus does not send us to be saviors, but to prepare the way for his Good News of salvation. He does not send us alone, he gives us partners. He gives us communities. He even gives us hosts willing to take us in and feed our souls along the way. The harvest is plentiful because God is the one who sows the seed and gives rain to water the earth. And after each mission, each project, each risk and effort, he is there for us to return to in joy, sharing with him our stories of success and of failure, the ways our ministries have grown and the new friendships and partnerships we’ve built along the way. Jesus has extended to us again an invitation to travel lightly, to hold loosely to our habits and our hopes and see what God will make of our labors. God even gave us each other, our partner parishes, an opportunity to pair up for the sake of the harvest. What might it look like to approach our second full year of shared ministry as our Great Commission, our newest opportunity to give and receive hospitality along the way, our chance to be vulnerable with one another for the sake of our neighbors?

My sister priest, the late reverend Diane Vie, had a favorite blessing she often used at the end of worship, one you may be familiar with. I think it captures the gifts and responsibilities of our partnerships here in our parish and beyond, and I’d like to invite you to ponder it in the days ahead.

Remember that life is short, and we have too little time to gladden the hearts of those who travel the way with us. So be swift to be kind, make haste to love, and may the blessing of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, bless you and keep you. Amen.