Sermons by Bishop Paul V. Marshall
A thought about today's Gospel (7/8/01)
This is a portion of a sermon for Pentecost 5 which was sent as a note to the Diocesan Discussion list from Bishop PaulIn thinking about this morning's gospel, with the sending of the teams of two, I am aware that there are at least two "survival kits" for disciples in the Gospels. One is the parable of the sower, where the message is, spread the seed, knowing that all kinds of things will happen do it. That's God's problem, you can stay focused on your ministry, knowing that the results will be mixed, and your reward is in knowing that you were faithful.
Today's survival kit is for when things are worse than birds, rocks, weeds, and so on. Today's survival kit is for times of rejection. The answer is similar: put it entirely in God's hands, he will take care of any appropriate punishment -- don't even take any dust from the town with you. On one level this is spoken of as "protest" in the translation we use, that's right, it's important to speak your peace, say your prophetic word. BUT THEN YOU MOVE ON.
Leaving the dust behind seems to be an important skill for survival, if one is to remain a useful witness. I checked my mental shoe rack this week because of this passage. What dust is still on what "sandals" because I have failed to state my protest, or because I wasn't ready to let go of hurt, resentment, anger, outrage, or the fun of thinking how awful somebody else is? Or is it worse than that? Are there hurtful things in the past that I am afraid to acknowledge, and I drag them around like huge clogs of mud or portable quicksand? Parishes are like people: if they haven't dealt with their past, they have no real future.
Jesus' real concern in the parable of the sower and in today's dust-shaking is that we be free to minister, free to live. That means letting go, not being obsessed with "that person" or "that group" did.
Salespeople who make cold calls know that they get mostly rejection: they stay focused on the (small) percent who will buy. Direct mail solicitors know that a five percent response is very good. They don't take the other ninety-five percent personally.
In my days as a high school wrestler, I remember hearing the coach yell "shake it off" when something painful happened. (It did: I wasn't very good.) That's Jesus advice today for people who are doing things a lot more important, and where the chance of rejection is quite high.
Of course the real problem comes with people who don't reject you, but just think differently, or don't particularly like you or the ideological horse you rode in on. Did you skip school the day they told the class that it is guaranteed in life that not everybody will like you, that you are dangerously mistaken if you think you can be "good" enough to make everybody like you? Jesus more than once confronted the fact that his disciples didn't all like each other, that they got insulted with each other's pretensions about who was best. So he gave them foot-washing and the Eucharist. Even people who will never like each other must there acknowledge their vital connection in Christ, shake off the hurts, and continue to work and witness.
The adult children of alcoholic or narcissistic parents often have a great need to make others like them, and thus have a hard time developing and sticking to principles. "What if they don't' like it/me?" is what scares them to death. The liberating news for them and for all of us in today's Gospel is that rejection at one level or another is inevitable; don't take it personally, if it can't be healed, shake it off.
Jesus knew something about rejection. He also knew about seeing things through, true to his identity and mission. That is what God vindicated.
The epistle [long version] offers a nice balance. Not everything is a "go-to-the-mattresses" situation. Problems are to be dealt with in order to "restore," and in "a spirit of gentleness." Again, no room for hurt feelings, insult, moral outrage, but doing what needs to be done to make things right.
Both lessons urge a kind of holy detachment that cares deeply but that will not get bogged down, will not be crippled by emotional or spiritual bullies. Both lessons ask us to remember that outcomes are God's problem.
Learning to let go, occasionally to look like a fool even, is part of the self-emptying that is so much a part of discipleship. I am drawn to the Eucharist in part because broken bread/body and wine/blood poured out are not just about death, but about the path to life. In recent weeks we have been reminded of the mystery of saving and loosing one's life, and in each Eucharist we participate in and receive the benefits of the ultimate and sustaining instance of kind of letting go so that Christ can fill.
peace +p
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