June 14, 2020: May God’s words be spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Welcome to what the church calls “Ordinary Time.”
Ordinary Time. Does this seem like an Ordinary Time for you’all?
Now yesterday, I was taking advantage of both being home more, and the slightly cooler weather, so I went out to finish the gardening I had started to do earlier in the week. As I stood there staring at the huge pile of mulch in my driveway I looked at my dog Lexi. Seeing that she had absolutely NO intention of helping me, other than to point out if I missed a spot, I muttered “Well, the pile is high, but the laborers are few.” I looked around to see if maybe that conjured up 12 folks to help, but sadly no.
Of course I was hoping more for what we heard in the gospel today where Jesus is sending out his apostles. Now, their first clue that they were going on a field trip was when Jesus said that “the harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.” That is the messianic equivalent of your boss saying she has an important project and needs some volunteers – which is when you wish you had managed to call in sick that day. Or when your dad starts pulling tools out of the garage, looks around, and asks you “So, what are you up to today?”
Well, all those other apostles must have taken a few steps back to make it appear that the 12 just volunteered, because they even get named. Then Jesus describes their mission – they are to go from town to town curing the sick, raising the dead, cleansing the lepers, casting out demons. Oh, is THAT all? No problem Jesus, we got this. Sure. Then he says they can take nothing with them – no money, no luggage -nothing. It’s a journey fit for any Rick Steve’s fan. Not only that – they can’t get paid for what they do. And to top it all off, he sums up it all up with these comforting words “See, I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.”
Great! I am thinking that maybe a few of them were wondering how they missed this dangerous part in the fine print of their apostle’s contract. I mean, who would sign up for this, right?
Well – you’all did. “Say whaaaat?” Yup – you did, or your parents did for you and you confirmed it later – when you were baptized into him – into the household of God – into the body of Christ.
Into this we, as the church – the body of Christ – are called. Yet before we go any further with this, let’s take a step back and try to understand what it is that Jesus is telling us about our lives as his followers, because in this extra-ordinary time in which we live, he needs us to really get it, really understand what he wants from us.
Before he gives the disciples their mission statement, we come to hear what this is all about, but we usually miss it because we jump right to the “laborers are few” bit. But here is what precedes that verse: “Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing every disease and every sickness. When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. THEN he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.”
“They were harassed and helpless, like a sheep without a shepherd.” He had compassion for them. Jesus knew there was so much need and that his followers had to step into who they were meant to be, so, he commissioned them to go out into the world to do as he was doing. Yup – that whole great commission we heard about last week – that is what is going on here.
Sadly though, the church through the centuries has twisted this need for laborers thing into some sort of recruitment poster. Jesus sent them out to preach the gospel, to make disciples, so let’s go do that – let’s try to convert people. Good Lord, no. Jesus sent them, and now sends us, that we might be shepherds for the sheep, that we might have compassion, as he did, for all of God’s children. And through our actions of word and deed, we proclaim the gospel.
But here is where we can sometimes lose our way. We begin to forget what compassion means, the type that Jesus has for us, the kind that Jesus calls us to have for others. Because to have compassion, as Jesus had compassion, isn’t to feel sorry for someone. It is to enter into their suffering, to stand alongside as Christ stands alongside us. And that, my friends, takes courage.
Now you might think that compassion has little to do with courage, but nothing could be further from the truth. As Sharon Salzberg wrote in her book Loving Kindness: The Revolutionary Art of Happiness, “Compassion is not at all weak. It is the strength that … allows us to bear witness to … suffering, whether in ourselves or others, without fear; it allows us to name injustice without hesitation, and to act strongly, with all the skill at our disposal. To develop this mind state of compassion … is to learn to live, as the Buddha put it, with sympathy for all living beings, without exception.”
Or put another way –to have compassion for others, to enter into their suffering – is an act of intentional vulnerability, an audacious thing to do – and that takes courage. It is not for those who want to play it safe, but for those who answer the call of Jesus. And it can take a toll on you too – we call it compassion fatigue, and many of us are suffering from right now.
Like those first disciples, I have no doubt that many of you right now feel as though you are a sheep among wolves, hoping to be wise and innocent (or at least pure in intention), but perhaps feeling a bit helpless, and despairing, for you have been at this courageous compassionate work in the world for some time now.
We have all entered into the suffering of our loved ones who have died, and of those who are victims of the bigotry and hate that infects our nation. We look with compassion on the growing economic reality that is hitting businesses, organizations, and houses of worship, and we see the loneliness born out of our pandemic isolation. We celebrate LGBTQ+ peoples in this Pride Month, while we remember those slaughtered at the Pulse nightclub June 12th of 2016, and the attacks even just this week against their rights and persons by national and state leaders. We have been marching in the streets, standing with the oppressed, being a voice for the voiceless, and suffering alongside others. As the old hymn goes, “We are tired, we are weak, we are worn.”
And that is why we need to hear the words of St. Paul today in his epistle to the Romans. He writes “And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.”
Now this is sadly one of the most misunderstood passages, so let me be clear, God does NOT create suffering for us. That whole “God only gives us what we can handle” is an axiom of the absurd. It is absolutely antithetical to all that we know about God, because as our Presiding Bishop often says “If it’s not about love, it’s not about God.” And no one who loves another would ever intentionally cause them to suffer. Nor is St. Paul glorifying suffering, or telling folks they should just put up and shut up. Again – that makes no sense, for the God that loves us would never want that for us. Suffering is a part of our very human condition, often caused by humanity itself. It is just a part of living in this all too human world.
What St. Paul is saying is that we will suffer as we live our lives as followers of Jesus, because we cannot truly follow him, without being him in the world – the Jesus who saw the helpless, the sick, the poor, the outcast – who saw them, went to them, had compassion for them, and offered to them God’s love and grace. And that type of compassion, that entering into the suffering of others, while exhausting at times, is transformational – for us – and through us for the world.
So when you feel tired, weak, and worn, when the task just seems too great, and your ability to be up to it too small, when you feel that you are a sheep amidst wolves, perhaps you should remember that the Christ that sends you, is the Christ within you. Have compassion for yourself as he has for you and for others. And perhaps most of all remember that being Jesus in the world also means finding time to rest, to enjoy the company of friends, and to pray. In this way your compassion for yourself as well as others will open the door to the hope that does not disappoint, for you will be renewed in the courage of your faith, and you will have the endurance you need to continue your call.
So, Jesus calls his disciples to model his compassion, and calls us to do the same, but part of responding with compassion is doing the other things Jesus calls the disciples to do: Casting out demons, curing the sick, and raising the dead. How the heck does THAT work? Folks, this isn’t only a harvest of good, but of things that are in need of being cut down – the harvest of poverty, oppression, illness, and fear. The laborers Jesus needs, the laborers we must be, are those that are unable to stop at the easy, feel good, response to the suffering, but feel real compassion as he did, entering into it ourselves, that through our understanding, we can heal the world. The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. once put it this way “True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar; it is not haphazard and superficial. It comes to see that an edifice that produces beggars needs restructuring.”
Disciples of Jesus are called to have compassion, and respond to the suffering. We are called to cast out the demons of oppressive systems; to heal the sickness that has infected the hearts and minds of some, and made broken the souls of so many; to raise up the dead from their slumber of ignorance and denial of the cries of their sister and brothers, to lift out of the grave those spiritually dead from the hopelessness born of so much pain.
This is the harvest in need of laborers.
This is the work we are called to do.
And it will be life giving for us, as it is for the world.
I am reminded of a story I heard once about a Roman aqueduct at Segovia, in Spain. It was built in the year 109 CE. For eighteen hundred years, it carried cool water from the mountains to the hot and thirsty city. Nearly sixty generations of people drank from its flow. Then came another generation, a recent one, who said, “This aqueduct is so great a marvel that it ought to be preserved for our children, as a museum piece. We shall relieve it of its centuries-long labor.”
They did; they laid modern iron pipes. They gave the ancient bricks and mortar a reverent rest. And the aqueduct began to fall apart. The sun beating on the dry mortar caused it to crumble. The bricks and stone sagged and threatened to fall. What ages of service could not destroy having no purpose disintegrated.
As the church, the body of Christ in the world, we are like that aqueduct – our mission is to bring that living water of Christ’s compassion to those who thirst. It will be daunting at times. We will be unsure of abilities. We will feel worn by the enormity of our task. Yet we will endure. We must. For that water also feeds us, as much as it does those we serve. As St. Paul makes clear, we will through endurance come to a place of hope that does not disappoint. But more than that, if we do not live this life, we begin to die, and the church with us.
The harvest awaits.
Jesus needs laborers.
In this extra-ordinary time – it is a choice of life and death – for us, for the church, and for the world.
Which means – it isn’t a choice at all – we must continue to answer his call!
Amen.
For the audio from the 10:30am service, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here:
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
June 14, 2020
Second Sunday After Pentecost – In A Time Of Separation
1st Reading – Genesis 18:1-15, (21:1-7)
Psalm 116:1, 10-17
2nd Reading – Romans 5:1-8
Gospel – Matthew 9:35-10:8(9-23)
