The Second Sunday After Pentecost
Matthew 10:40-42
The Christ Within
“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me,
and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.”
They descended into the darkness on foot; the small band of young college students, perhaps better described as angels in disguise, and they confidently entered into what can only be described as hell on earth. The bustling market by day now turned into a forgotten and forbidden part of the city by night. Intoxicated men prowl like predators in search of their prey, sometimes running in packs, other times dividing and viciously fighting amongst themselves in competition. While numerous women line the streets or patiently perch in doorways, broken and diminished, just waiting to sacrifice yet another piece of their souls if only to feed their families for another day.
In the midst of all of this, huddled together in the brutal cold of the night, untouchable and unseen, sit a family of sorts, a drug addicted gang of all ages. Mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, and even the unborn. United in their addiction to the easiest and cheapest way to alleviate their hunger and escape the unbearable reality of their lives. United in their need to protect themselves and each other from neighboring addicts who might wish to take their dwelling, their drugs, or what few possessions they might have. They were the focus of the young saints who marched in several nights a week to bring food and medical treatment. They were the focus of Christ's love and light being brought into that darkness. Oddly enough, it was among them that I witnessed the risen Christ.
As I stood momentarily alone one evening, gazing in awe upon the surreal scene laid out before me, I witnessed an exchange that continues to influence me to this day. A Japanese missionary named Ayaka, who had been a sort of fringe member of this small ministry, sat on a curb accompanying and consoling one of the young men of the street gang. As the young man sat and gratefully ate the food that she had given him, Ayaka approached and sat down naturally beside him and began to hold this young man without hesitation. She sat and held him, dirty and undesirable, filthy and untouchable, dangerous and unpredictable, and Ayaka calmly ran her fingers through his matted hair. She held him as a mother holds her child. She held him just as I have seen my own wife Carla hold my son Haven a million times. It was a tender yet protective touch, a casual yet profound embrace. It was there that I witnessed the Risen Christ; in the boundless love shown to a child of God, in the limitless light shown into the darkest corners of our lives. I witnessed Christ, because Christ lived in Ayaka. I share this story, Brothers and Sisters, because that is what I believe this morning's Gospel lesson is about.
You see, when we encounter Jesus in this morning's Gospel reading, He is giving His final instructions to the disciples in preparation for them to continue His work in this world. In the previous verses, Jesus has just finished telling His disciples that their road will not be easy, and that it will in fact bring suffering and persecution in many instances. However, in today's passage, Jesus is explaining to the disciples the mystery of the nature of the authority they will possess. He is revealing to them the Good News of the union that they will enjoy with God the Father through Jesus' own actions and sacrifice. These instructions and revelations of course, are not only meant for the disciples of the early church, but for each of us today as well as disciples and members of the One Body of Christ.
However, that is precisely the point which concerned me as I prepared for this morning. It is the question of whether or not we truly understand what Jesus is saying to His disciples, both then and now, both to them and to us? Do we understand our role as disciples of Christ and do we recognize both the authority and responsibility that that role brings? I am pretty sure that the honest answer is no, and I say that because I am confident that the statements of Christ in this morning's Gospel make little or no sense to our mindset or worldview. See, it is a lot like the discussion that is still often had about authorship in the Bible.
It really really bothers many Christians when it is suggested that the Gospel according to Matthew, for example, might not have really been written by Matthew but by one of his disciples. For many Christians today, to suggest such a thing is to somehow diminish the authenticity of that scripture. For the Jewish world in Jesus' time, however, this was not the case, as Jewish law considered one's agent or one's representative to be like one's self. Therefore, if the disciple of Matthew wrote a Gospel and attributed it to Matthew, well, in the time after Jesus, that would have been viewed as pretty much the same thing. This is very similar to the point that Jesus is making in this morning's Gospel, except Jesus takes this point to another level and an even deeper meaning in typical Jesus fashion. What Jesus is saying to His disciples and to us in this morning's Gospel is this: as disciples of Christ, or as His agents or representatives, each of us, all of us, have been given an authority and responsibility from Christ Himself, and from God who sent Him. Through Christ, each of us has been brought into and presently lives in unity with God. (on a side not, I do realize that throughout history there have been individuals who have been burnt at the stake for making similar statements, um and I am trusting you all not to do that! I might have to keep an eye on some of you though.)
That is what is crazy about all this though, right? We are completely uncomfortable believing what I am suggesting this morning. It is somehow blasphemous. It is somehow unthinkable. It is the one thing that we all know we need in our very core, but yet refuse to allow ourselves. The truth is that we don't love ourselves enough to believe that God could possibly love us to such an extreme. We don't love ourselves enough to let ourselves be loved. And yet, is this not the very reality that almost everything in our beautiful liturgy and our incredible worship point us to? Just think about the words we say at that Baptismal font, think about what we do and participate in at this altar rail. All of what we do here, every Sunday, is meant to enforce in each of us the very same truth that Christ reveals to us in this morning's Gospel. Christ lives within us.
You see preparing for today's sermon made me realize that I was wrong about what I witnessed in that young missionary. What I witnessed in Ayaka on that cold night in La Paz was nothing miraculous, it was simply what is supposed to be, always. Christ within us. Christ witnessed through us. But if we don't allow ourselves to accept and live into the reality that Christ offers us this morning, if we don't begin to untwist the skewed reality that it so many Christians throughout the world still hold, then we will constantly be keeping God at an arm's distance. Our Sundays will always be for seekers, questioning whether God is really out there, and our good deeds will simply be just nice gestures, lending a hand to a fellow human being. The truth is that not until we realize Christ's infinite and intimate presence within each of us will we begin to live as true disciples, continuing Christ's ministry in this world as He commanded us to do. Not until then will one welcome us and in so doing welcome and receive God. Not until then will our offering of a cup of cold water to a little one, or food to one of La Paz's untouchables be transformed into an miraculous act of the boundless love of Christ to all, God's limitless light shining in the darkest corners of our lives. Brothers and Sisters in Christ, I invite you all this morning to realize that Christ lives within you, and I encourage us all to use our worship together on Sundays as an opportunity for true celebration, a celebration that prepares us to leave this place fully conscious of our carrying God within us out into the world, to effect, shape, form, and change lives. Christ lives within you.
“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me,
and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.”
Amen.
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