Let’s face it, who wouldn’t get a little excited about miraculous and newfound “powers” and abilities? If we were endowed with the power to heal the sick, to be impervious to poisonous snakes (and how about mosquitoes!?), and could expel demonic spirits, it might just go to our heads, make us feel a little more special than others, inflating our self-esteem, right?
In fact, even when it isn’t a matter of miraculous powers, it is not surprising that, as the saying goes, knowledge is a kind of power, and learning new skills not only can provide us a sense of agency and of accomplishment, but can also instill in us a sense of pride. However, in the Gospel of Luke 10: 1-12, 17-20, Jesus seems to be redirecting the attention of the 72 whom he has sent out ahead of him in pairs to prepare the way for him away from these potential sources of pride, let alone any other attachment.
First of all, Jesus instructs them to go on their way, not as powerful and dangerous wolves, but rather, as gentle lambs among wolves. What does this mean? Instead of using knowledge as power, or allowing their newfound miraculous abilities to give them advantage or superiority over others, they are instead invited to embrace be simply themselves, e.g., not to portray themselves as anything but what they are… disciples, and recipients of God’s goodness and grace. They are invited to accept a certain amount of weakness and vulnerability, and therein, to find ways of connecting with others in their weakness and vulnerability.
Without extra provisions and supplies (this is a tough one for a former Boy Scout like me), they are told to travel light, to allow themselves to be dependent on others. They are not to do anything to “upgrade” their level of comfort, security, or prestige when they go on the road. Instead, they bring the peace that they have received from him and offer this to others. If it is rejected, so be it- they receive their peace back and move on (rather than calling fire upon those who resist them).
When they receive hospitality, no matter if it is modest or lavish, they are not to look for better circumstances, and neither should they take the hospitality for granted, but rather, “labor for their pay.” And in all cases, when they have been used by God as instruments of miraculous healing, they are to avoid claiming credit, but rather, to give God thanks and point to the way that God’s Kingdom is manifesting in that moment, in their midst. Even if they have the power to expel demonic forces, they are to recall that this is not their power, but God’s.
What are we to make of this? As leaders with agency and skills, capability and achievements, there is no doubt joy and satisfaction that come with the job (at least on some days). Is Jesus saying that joy and satisfaction are forbidden? That would make our labors heavy and lifeless, matters of grim duty, no? How could he suggest that and at the same time, teach us to take our burdens on as he does, with lightness, magnanimity, and freedom?
In fact, Jesus is modeling for us how to both experience that freedom, satisfaction, and generosity in our labors and achievements, while at the very same time, giving God the glory. This attention to what God is doing with and through us rather than focusing on ourselves liberates us from the conditional self esteem that roller coasters along depending on our “good days” and “bad days,” dependent on what we accomplish or achieve, let alone any knowledge or skills that we might possess.
There is a very particular kind of joy and satisfaction that comes from knowing we are being used by God, however humbly, in their service of His Kingdom’s unfolding. It may be in a simple and brief conversation when we slowed down enough in our business to truly listen to another person who needed an empathetic listening ear at that moment. It may have been in a moment of boldness and risk when we put ourselves on the line and spoke up on behalf of people who are marginalized or in jeopardy. It may have happened in a moment when we made space for others to show up and contribute when we could have chosen to do it ourselves.
Do we believe our names are inscribed in Heaven, and that God chooses us each day to be his agents and instruments? When we take stock of experiences of being used for his purposes, how does this satisfaction compare to achievements that we ascribe to our own agency? Jesus sends the 72 our in pairs to co-labor together in the extension of his mission, because even for him, it was impossible to do alone. Are we willing to share the joy and satisfaction of laboring and loving together for his greater purposes? “Rejoice,” he tells us, because our names are truly, “written in heaven,” and God knows of the good he is doing through us, his perfectly imperfect instruments.
With you on the journey,
