Dear Brothers and Sisters –
In today’s reading, Isaiah describes a state of infant bliss. Israel is held in its mother’s arms, fed from her abundant breasts, fondled in her lap. Isaiah means us to imagine, or remember, a time when our basic needs were met, when we had no responsibilities, when we had no worries, when we were purely and simply loved. We were entirely dependent on others, we had no resources of our own, but we could rely on our parents’ love and care. But Isaiah is not presenting a picture of some ideal past, but of a future, the kingdom of God come down to earth. God is our mother who loves and cares for us. This is what the kingdom looks like.
When Jesus sends out his disciples to go ahead of him and prepare his way, he puts them in the same dependent position. He strips them of their usual means of support, money, a bag for food and incidentals, even their shoes. They are to trust entirely on others, not on their own resources. That they have to depend on others is important. It’s fairly easy to say, “I trust in God.” Trusting in God is somewhat abstract, and people often hedge their bets when they add something like, “But God helps those who help themselves,” which is my least favourite saying of all time. Over and over scripture tells us that God helps the poor, the lowly, the widow, the orphan, those who precisely cannot help themselves. Trusting in God therefore can be an abstract trust, which has no real consequences.
On the other hand, trusting in other people is much more difficult. We put ourselves at the mercy of others whom we don’t know, strangers whose motivations and characters are a mystery. God works through other people, though, that’s how it’s done. When we live by our own resources, trusting only in ourselves, then God’s grace can’t break through to us.
Only when we are vulnerable, needy, reaching out, can God come to our help, through the actions and words of other people. Only then are we living in the kingdom. The 72 disciples have placed themselves in this situation, dependent on the charity and kindness of others. So when Jesus tells them to say, “The kingdom of God is at hand for you,” the disciples themselves are the sign of that kingdom. They are already living in it by putting their complete trust in God’s providence and grace, without making plans or strategies of their own.
But it is still possible not to recognize the kingdom of God. Notice that when a town does not accept the disciples, the kingdom of God is still at hand. The kingdom is there whether we accept it or not. It is all around us, waiting for us to enter. We have the choice, though, to see it or not.
And what does the kingdom of God look like to us, as monks? There are some remarkable clues in today’s Gospel. First, they are sent out two-by-two, as community from community. Then Jesus tells his disciples to divest themselves of possessions. They give up money, clothes, and security. I struggled with Christ’s next guideline at first – why wouldn’t the disciples greet anyone on the road? If their mission is to evangelize, wouldn’t they want to talk to everybody they met? I’m not sure what Christ meant in his context, but for me, after I thought about it, his command is an exhortation to silence, to practice the discipline of silence. Then Jesus tells them to accept the hospitality of one house only. They are to maintain a sort of stability while they are in a town. And finally, they are to practice our own ascetic practice of accepting any food that is put in front of them. It doesn’t matter if you are not fond of turnips or hominy, be grateful for the meal. Community, personal poverty, silence, stability, ascetic practices: these should sound familiar to us. By following our monastic rule, we are fulfilling Christ’s injunctions to his disciples.
Of course Christ himself is our ultimate example to follow. His life, and particularly his death, are the path to the new creation Paul talks about. To boast of nothing but the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, as Paul puts it, is to become utterly dependent on God’s grace, even, or perhaps especially, when it reaches into death. When it looks like we should not depend on others, because it is after all other people who crucified Jesus, we still must, because only then can grace become real, only then is it obvious that God, and not our own self-interest, is active in our lives. We are dependent on God, who works one way or the other through human beings.
When the disciples first approach a house, they say, “Peace to this household.” Jesus adds, “If a peaceful person lives there, your peace will rest on him” or her. Peace attracts peace and multiplies. Peace is in rare supply in the world these days, whether we look to relations between nations, political parties, or into our own hearts. But peace is the fruit of the kingdom of God. Paul says he has been crucified to the world and the world to him, and that peace is the result for anyone who follows this way. We here are privileged to have at least the opportunity to reach for this peace. We live under a rule and an abbot, and are dependent on our fellow monks for all our needs. However, we must admit that we are still capable of refusing to see the kingdom, although it is all around us. We can still curl in on ourselves, putting our faith in our own preferences and resources instead of becoming more trusting, more dependent. But if we can rest in our dependence on others, which is ultimately trust, or faith, in God, as an infant rests on its mother’s breast, then we too can experience this same peace, the peace of the kingdom. And like the disciples, we can become a sign for the world of God’s kingdom, a kingdom which is right here, right now, at hand for all of us.