Sunday, July 6, 2025

14th Sunday in Ordinary Time


When I was a college student,
a fraternity at my university used to hold 
an annual “medieval banquet,”
presumably because their fraternity house
look a little bit like a castle.
Every year this event featured 
not only the fraternity’s “little sisters” 
waiting tables while dressed 
as “serving wenches”
(remember, it was the 1980s),
but also the presence 
of some of the semi-feral dogs 
that roamed free on campus,
to whom the brothers 
would throw scraps of food,
in what they imagined 
was medieval fashion.
One year, they decided 
that they would increase
the supposed authenticity of the event
by also having some chickens 
scratching around on the floor.

You may see where this is going.
But, alas, the fraternity brothers did not,
never stopping to think what might happen 
when you put hungry dogs and chickens 
together in a confined space.
Needless to say, 
their medieval banquet
turned into a noisy bloodbath,
and the chicken experiment
was not repeated the next year.

I think of this story pretty much every time
I encounter Jesus saying
to the seventy-two whom he sends out
to prepare the way for his arrival
in the towns and villages of Galilee, 
“I am sending you like lambs among wolves.”
I think, “I am sending you like chickens among dogs.”
I think of it because it not only drives home
the sanguinary scenario conjured by Jesus’ words,
but also the foreseeable nature of this bloody outcome.

For Jesus, unlike the fraternity knuckleheads,
does foresee this possible outcome.
He knows what he is asking of them.
Indeed, he seems to require that they journey
in the most vulnerable way possible:
“Carry no money bag, no sack, no sandals”—
don’t take with you any of the things
that might make the journey 
easier or more secure.
He sends them out unarmed 
because their mission is to declare peace,
to witness to the inbreaking of God’s reign,
to let people know that Jesus is coming.

When they return excited by their success
at casting out demons, just like Jesus did,
he tells them that this is because
he has given the the power 
to tread upon serpents and scorpions
and upon the full force of the enemy, 
and that nothing will harm them.
The lambs seem to have turned 
the tables on the wolves.

But lest they think that the point
is for the lambs to win and the wolves to lose,
Jesus goes on to say to them, “Nevertheless, 
do not rejoice because the spirits are subject to you,
but rejoice because your names are written in heaven.”
Do not rejoice if you fare well in your mission,
and do not sorrow if you fare poorly,
but simply rejoice that you belong to me,
whether things go well or poorly.
As the theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar
remarks in connection with this Gospel reading:
“Success is not part of the assignment.”

Perhaps no one has understood this better than St. Paul.
Like the seventy-two sent out by Jesus,
Paul had his successes—
he writes to the Christians at Phillippi,
“I give thanks to my God 
at every remembrance of you” (1:3).
He also had his disappointments—
he writes to the Christian of Galatia,
“I am afraid on your account that perhaps 
I have labored for you in vain” (4:11).
But success is not part of the assignment.
This is why Paul says 
in that same letter to the Galatians,
“May I never boast 
except in the cross 
of our Lord Jesus Christ,
through which the world 
has been crucified to me,
and I to the world.”

To be crucified to the world
means to die to the world’s standards 
of what counts as victory,
to be freed from the short term 
expectations of success;
it is to see that the only thing that matters
is to have your name written in heaven,
to be numbered among those who have 
been called and sent by Jesus
to prepare the way for his arrival.
Success is not part of the assignment—
Jesus is coming whether we succeed or fail—
but faithfulness is.

It’s probably good to remember this
in our present national context 
of intense political division,
when some are exulting 
over the success of their agenda
and others are grief stricken
at seeing their hopes undone.
If success is not part of the assignment
in preparing the way for Jesus’s arrival,
how much more is this the case
when it comes to our politics.

Yes, of course, these are things that matter;
the lives and health of our nation and her people
hang in the balance in our political decisions.
You want the lambs to win and the wolves to lose;
you want the vulnerable protected and poor cared for;
you want the values of Christ’s kingdom 
embodied in the world.
But in the face of both victory and defeat
we who are Christians must always remember
that the world has been crucified to us,
and we to the world,
and so, we must operate by a different standard
of what counts as victory or defeat,
we must operate on a different time scale
as we prepare for Jesus’ reign to come among us,
we must live by a faith, hope, and love
that no earthly victory can supplant
and no earthly defeat can destroy.

Success is not part of the assignment.
So let us go out like lambs among wolves,
or chickens among dogs:
let us be crucified to worldly success,
let us be comforted in worldly defeat,
let us fearlessly proclaim in all times and places
the coming of Jesus and his reign of peace,
and let us pray that God, in his mercy,
might have mercy on us all.