Matthew 10:40-42
[Jesus said to the twelve:] “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”
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Our gospel is only three verses long today. They are the end of chapter 10, and they the closing words of Jesus’s instructions to the disciples as he sends them out to teach and to proclaim his message in the cities and villages.
At the beginning of chapter ten, Jesus summons together the disciples, bestows upon them them all authority to heal and to cast out demons, and prepares them to be sent out into the cities and villages. He tells them to depend on the hospitality of others on this journey, while also warning them that they are being sent out like sheep into the midst of wolves. Jesus warns them that their work will face persecution, resistance, conflict, and even death.
And then today, at the end of this unsettling commission, Jesus circles back to to nice things. Welcome and hospitality. Righteousness and reward. A cup of cold water extended in the heat of the day.
In the context of the the passage as a whole, these closing words are meant to be heard as words of promise for those who would follow Jesus out into the world.
“I’m sending you into the world to love, to bless, to heal, to forgive,” Jesus says, “and it will be dangerous. It won’t always be comfortable. There are no guarantees. There might be conflict and hardship. You very life might be at risk. But I promise you: this work is not in vain. You will find welcome. You will find open ears and open hearts. All those who receive you and care for you and welcome your message, they will indeed be rewarded.”
This is balm for us right now, dear ones. It’s nice to hear that, no matter how rough it gets, the way of justice and hope and reconciliation and grace is not a dead end path. We’re not just shouting into the wind. Our message will land and our work will find its welcome. Maybe not everywhere. But not nowhere. Maybe not right now. But someday.
The Pride flags are flying in Decorah this weekend, friends.
Fifty-one years ago today, police raided the Stonewall Inn, a popular gathering place for Greenwich Village’s gay community. During the raid, police turned violent against Stonewall’s patrons, sparking a week of riots that mark a turning point in our nation’s fight for the rights of LGBTQIA+ persons.
Fifty years ago this weekend, on the one-year anniversary of the Stonewall Riots, the first Pride marches took place, in New York and Chicago and Los Angeles.
Eleven years ago, the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America voted at its Churchwide Assembly to open the door to LGBTQIA+ clergy, regardless of relationship status.
Three years ago, Decorah Pride hosted its first march through downtown, to become an annual event.
Two weeks ago, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that the 1964 Civil Rights Act protects gay, lesbian, and transgender employees from discrimination based on sex.
And today, June 28, 2020, in Decorah, the Pride flags are flying.
Step by step, over fifty-one years (and more than that), our society and our church have been challenged to open our hearts and minds and laws and policies that show equal justice, equal care, equal value and belovedness to all of God’s children, for who they know themselves to be, for whomever they love. The work isn’t done. But the work has found welcome where once it seemed impossible.
I wonder how and when the ongoing work of anti-racism will find its welcome, too. I wonder when Jesus’s promise to proclaim release to the captives and liberation to the oppressed will come to its fulfillment. I wonder when voicing the particular dignity and worth of the lives of the oppressed will be seen not as antagonistic, but as a welcome truth spoken to ears ready to listen.
From the March on Washington to the Rodney King riots; Trayvon Martin to Breonna Taylor to George Floyd to Elijah McClain; we are still waiting and hoping and praying that the deep truth of the belovedness and dignity of all of God’s children might be a message not just welcomed, but celebrated; might be a message not just heard, but put into action; might be a message not just believed, but reflected in our attitudes and our laws and in housing and hiring practices, in access to voting and to education and to healthcare. What will it look like when the message truly lands in fertile hearts?
This is the hope of our gospel reading today, the word “when.”
Jesus assures us that it is not a question of if the values of God’s kingdom find their welcome. It is a question of when and perhaps where and how.
But Jesus has faith that it’s gonna’ happen.
And Jesus has faith in us. The work of compassion and generosity and radical kindness and love and liberation and justice and dignity: this is hard work. Slow work. But not impossible work. It is the work that Jesus sends us to do, because he believes it can be done.
Jesus sends us out in his pathways, trusting that the kingdom we proclaim will most certainly find space to take root and grow and flourish and obliterate all the powers of evil and injustice and death in our world.
And so what we pray today, is that the Holy Spirit would continue to move among us and move among our world, preparing hearts to receive the word of justice, truth, and compassion. We pray that the Spirit would raise up new voices in collaboration, and new partnerships in this work, across dividing lines of politics or race or geography or religion.
We give thanks for the cups of cold water that have been extended to us along the way, even as we seek to offer the same to others, giving kindness even as we hope to receive it, gestures big and small that affirm the image of God in one another and our responsibility to show mutual love and care to all of God’s children and all of God’s creation.
We pray for strength along the way, for hospitality in our serving, for courage in time of uncertainty, for grace in conflict, and in all things, hope. For ourselves. For one another. For our nation. For our world.
Jesus sends us out. Jesus gives us a voice.
Be courageous and of strong heart.
This work will find its welcome.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.