70 peaceful believers

Sermon for Pentecost IV, 2025, delivered at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Louisville, KY
Text: Luke 10:1-1, 16-20

One spring day in 1990, I was doing laundry at a laundromat in Neudorf, a suburb of Strasbourg, France. I stepped out of the building for a moment and looked down the street several blocks and saw two young men, and I immediately knew who they were. They wore black pants, a white short-sleeved button-down shirt, a thin black tie, and a black name badge. They eventually entered the laundromat and I was right: they were LDS missionaries. We spoke French, and they didn’t realize at first that I was American until I told them. We broke into English at that point. LDS missionaries are bound by an absolute rule of their church that they must always be together, or within sight or hearing of each other at all times. Imagine doing that for two years, instead of a few weeks for the seventy [or seventy-two, depending on what version of the bible you read - EPW] that Jesus sends out.

In the gospel reading, Jesus sends seventy of his followers on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. He said to them that whatever house they entered, first say, “Peace to this house!” And if anyone is there who shares in peace, their peace would rest on that person; but if not, it would return to them. The two LDS missionaries I met in the laundromat were not the first I had come across, but for these two men, this was their first time out in the world. Likewise, the seventy others that Luke mentions who went out for their first time implies that there was a previous group sent out. And there was an earlier group: in chapter 9:1-6 the disciples are sent out with similar instructions, and they returned with similar experiences that the seventy were to have. So, we hear of a second wave of believers sent out to spread the Good News, and this may be Luke telling the story of the further spread of the Good News after the disciples were no longer around. 

This passage no doubt contributed to the tradition of mendicants in the twelfth to fifteenth centuries in Europe, mendicants being monks or friars who wandered the countryside praying and proselytizing and begging at the same time. This lifestyle was somewhat suspicious, but the reason behind it was understood as an example of Jesus’ call to austerity for the followers he sent out: Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals, and by implication, no money. Mendicants would not be tolerated today because of our attitude that everyone has to pull their own weight, take responsibility for their own lives, and not expect a handout. That is problematic because it puts mendicants, and the seventy, into the context of a transactional relationship: you do this for me, and I’ll do that for you, and it’s a win/win deal. Jesus specifically speaks against those relationships where there is an expectation or requirement of exchange, and he makes it clear that the followers are not receiving room and board, but accepting the hospitality given to anyone traveling for any reason. Yet, they were also working to bring the Good News to the world and bringing more than just the words “Peace be with you.” They were bringing God’s presence with them.

That peace and presence is part of the kingdom of God that the seventy are also to remind their hosts of. It is peace and reassurance that the kingdom is near to the accommodating hosts and to the villages that reject any of the seventy, and thus reject Jesus. This is an important point, because it separates self-defined worthiness from faith. It means that those who struggle with faith or who have no faith are no less in the eyes of God, and no less worthy to enter the kingdom. This speaks to the universality and unconditional aspect of God’s love that we struggle with, because we equate merit with opportunity - if I put in the effort and become a better person, that means I get a ticket into the kingdom, right? When we hear that the answer is no, that merit has nothing to do with it, we react as the Prodigal Son’s brother reacted, with a deep sense of unfairness. Look at all the work I have put into it. But, that's not the point at all. We are furthest from the peace of God, when we are wrestling with the anxiety and anger of not being able to bargain our way into the kingdom on our own merit. That is when we are furthest from God’s presence, too, getting in our own way as we try to enter the kingdom.

So, what do we need to do to get into the kingdom that comes near? I would say, “nothing,” because it is always open. Then why bother with worship and building a holy, spiritual life in community? Because that is how we find the kingdom, by making the faith we talk about a real part of our daily life. The kingdom is not a destination, a defined place we arrive at, like meeting St. Peter at the gates of heaven. Entry into the kingdom is through the peace that Jesus told the seventy about, and confidence in ourselves that we can lead a holy life. We enter through experiencing God’s presence and remaining in that presence. And once we are in the kingdom, we live our life in the way that Jesus lived his life. 

This peace is not like the passing of the peace, but it is a deeper peace with ourselves and the world despite the flaws, poor decisions, and powerlessness we experience in life. Peace is a trust that we will not be written off despite our faltering faith in ourselves and in God. It is being present in an unstable or unpredictable situation so that you are unmoved by the chaos around you. By remaining unmoved by the world, we bring that peace to others. There is a call to us, then, to be like the seventy, to first find peace and faith in ourselves that we can carry both to the world. When we have found that peace and faith, our call is then to bring God’s peace to wherever we are, to whoever we are with, whether or not they have faith. Because that is when they will know that God is present, that God’s kingdom is near, and our words of peace are not empty words, but reflect a true peace within us.