Pentecost 2 A: Just Start
Dear Partner in Preaching,
Where do we start?
Do we start with the recognition that Jesus warns his disciples not about outsiders but insiders? The wolves aren’t the Gentiles or the Samaritans… or the immigrants or illegals; they’re the synagogue leaders and council elders, the magistrates and political officials that will threaten the mission of the disciples. Israel’s problems are with Israel or, in Pogo’s words, “We have met the enemy, and he is us.”
Or do we start with the fact that Matthew says their names. Twelve apostles about whom we know next to nothing, twelve among admittedly far, far more who bore witness to Jesus. Yet we remember them because Matthew says their names. Since 2014, when Michael’s Brown’s death at the hands of white police officers provoked an outcry for reform, the levels of similar deaths have stayed constant, hovering between 1000-1200 every year. No decline. None. Of late, we have been implored to, like Matthew, say the names: George Floyd, Sean Monterrosa, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, Philando Castile, Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner. We don’t know much about most of these folks. They are certainly not alone. But saying their names keeps their memory before us.
Or do we start by observing that those to whom Jesus entrusts his mission – Matthew here uses the word “apostle,” those sent as emissaries and indeed agents of Jesus – to a rather strange bunch. Peter will deny, Judas betray, and Thomas struggle to believe. Nor were they of one mind. Homogenous ethnically – they are all Israelites – they boasted a remarkable range of different perspectives and political commitments: Matthew is a tax collector working with the Romans, while Simon the Cannanaean is a zealot planning their overthrow. Yet to this motley crew Jesus gives tremendous authority and responsibility, sending them out to do all the things he has been doing.
Or do we start with the crowds, hungry and sick, harassed and helpless. Matthew doesn’t tell us that in the face of their overwhelming need, distress, and demands, Jesus implored the disciples to clear the square, called for crowd control, or scuttled off to safety. Rather, Matthew writes simply and tellingly, “he had compassion for them.”
Or do we start…
Well, you see by now the dilemma and opportunity. So much we might say, so much we can say, so much that needs to be said. Where does an honest working preacher start?
Here’s the thing: I’m not sure it matters. What matters is that we actually start. You’ll know far better than I – and far better than pundits and church officials (no, they’re not quite the same) – what your congregation is ready to hear, what they need to hear, what will simultaneously root them in their identity and stretch them to live into that identity. Perhaps its directing their gaze inward toward reflection, lament, and accountability rather than outward in blame. Perhaps it’s naming the names to honor those unjustly killed (and while we’re in Matthew’s Gospel, it’s hard for me not to call to mind Luke’s rendering of the centurion’s words at the cross, “Certainly this man was innocent!” [Lk 23:47]). Perhaps it’s inviting your members to looks around and see that while they may differ on innumerable issues and bring different experiences and perspectives to bear, yet God entrusts them to proclaim the good news in word, certainly, but also in deed: “Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons.” Or perhaps it’s simply the invitation to strive to model Jesus’ example and imperative to look beyond actions to need, to see the pain and hurt and unheard laments, to view those around us not in fear but with compassion.
You’ll know, Dear Partner, because they are your people.
One last word. I know you will take great care with your words. You will call to mind those who are hungering for this message and those who will struggle with it. (And, if truth be told, folks in this latter category will likely be easier to imagine.) You will, in short, shape your message with equal measure of precision and compassion, not because you won’t move forward until everyone is with you but because you want to give everyone a chance to hear the good news (which sometimes is hard news) and sense God’s presence in our midst. In that endeavor, I have some good news and bad news. Realist that I am, I’ll start with the bad: no matter how hard you try, you won’t make everyone happy. That’s not your job, and you know that, but it’s still hard. You care for these people. But you won’t. Some will feel you’re moving way too slow and saying much too little, while others will feel like you’re pushing them unfairly or accuse you of bringing politics into the pulpit. And truth be told, neither you or I will get it right, no matter how hard we try.
But there’s also good news. As Jesus said to his disciples then, so also he says to you today: “do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say; for what you are to say will be given to you at that time; for it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you” (10:19-20). This isn’t license to say whatever you want, justifying it as the Spirit’s words, it is the promise that the living Spirit of Christ will continue to work in you and through you for the health of your congregation and welfare of your community.
And there’s more good news, as well. As Paul writes, because of God’s act of sacrificial love in Christ, we know 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.”
Hope does not disappoint. So give some thought to all the preaching possibilities, to the needs of your congregation, and to the urgent demands of our present moment and community. But then just start. Because, right now, that’s what matters. The harvest is still plentiful and the laborers few, and you have the gifts, insight, and fidelity necessary to begin. So just start. And blessings on your journey.
Yours in Christ,
David
Image: Vocation of the Apostles, a fresco in the Sistine Chapel by Domenico Ghirlandaio, 1481-82.
Thank you, David. A wonderful affirmation of our calling and our hope as we struggle to be faithful with words of justice and repentance. You are a gift.
Just, thank you. I really needed these words today.
Helpful and timely words, especially after we received significant objection to our intern and my messages recently, including one couple who left the church as what was said was the “last straw.”
Thank you for giving me that good news, reminding me that those words of Jesus are as much my gift to receive as it is my responsibility to share.
Thank you so much for your timely and inspirational message.
David, you are a wonderful shepherd to all of us. Thanks for your encouraging comments. PS Its the 2nd Sunday after Pentecost, Year A
Thanks — I often get those Pentecost Sunday #s mixed up! 🙂
I have been completely unable to start writing a sermon this week. I can’t start. I don’t know where to start. It is too much–too much trouble in the world, too much disagreement in my own community and too much going on in this gospel passage. I think this commentary is what I needed. I wish I had read it earlier. It is so kind and so helpful. Thanks.