Loading...My high school class rarely has a class reunion. We’ve relied on the “All-Years” reunion that happens every three or so years. Downtown Excelsior, Minnesota is overtaken by graduates from Minnetonka High School. The next one is at the end of this month.
At one of those all-years reunions, I reconnected with a handful of gals I have known since kindergarten. And we decided that we needed to do something special outside of these reunions.
So, the Divas were created. A dozen or so of us met up in Las Vegas at the end of the summer when we all turned 50. A girl’s weekend, which, according to a t-shirt I read yesterday, is “cheaper than therapy.”
For a time, we had an active, private Facebook page where we could communicate about whatever was happening in our lives. It was during this time that I was in seminary, ordained a Deacon, and then a Priest.
Some of those Divas were my cheering section throughout seminary. They supported me emotionally, and likely through prayer during this time. When it came time for my ordination on June 20, 2015, some of those who were local decided to be there.
My ordination day was not like many others, from what I understand. It was held in the gymnasium of Breck High School—one of the two Episcopal schools in Minnesota. Not in a church or cathedral. You see, there were over 30 of us being ordained, either as deacons or priests, and there was no other place that would hold all of us and our guests.
As you can imagine, there was quite a crowd. When it came time to share the peace, the Divas, wearing our signature rhinestone crowns, met me in the aisle, and parted to reveal that Tammy was with them. She and her husband had driven from California to be there. I was shocked, and if you ever see the photo taken at the exact second I saw her, you will see my response was less than flattering, but expressed my amazement. Oh, and I screamed.
That evening, Tammy presented me with a new, special order crown, this one, with the cross dangling from the center.
There’s something about going “home” where you believe the people will remember you, and love you for who you were, and who you have become.
But sometimes, love goes sideways. Especially if who you have become doesn’t seem quite “right” for some people. Particularly if you have some kind of success or level of education that intimidates others.
And so, over the years, our private Facebook page lost members due to fundamental differences because some of us were stuck in who we were and others had experienced transformation into who we had become.
It was sad to be blocked, or to have people leave the group because of the differences in our beliefs and experiences. We may have expected that we could be friends over distances and have believed we could overcome some of our very different life experiences, but for some of us, it just hasn’t been possible.
And yet, there are some of us who can really count on one another, still from distance at times, but also with infrequent conversations—live or written—when we need someone to listen to us or to help. There’s beauty in that.
As for me, I have changed a lot during these years. For some people, the way I have come to understand my relationship with my Creator, and the way I follow Jesus looks very different than it did back then. It’s much different than it was when I was young. And for some, it makes them uncomfortable.
Kind of like Jesus did when he went to his hometown. At first it was all “attaboy!” and “small town boy made good!” and wonder at how smart he had become. But it didn’t take long for the people who “knew him when” became uncomfortable, suspicious, and downright angry when Jesus was teaching and, in their minds, maybe showing off (though I’m sure that was not his intent). While they were happy to see him, it appears they were not so happy to learn from him. He just may have shared radical ideas that did not represent the opinions or experiences of the community who raised him. He could have appeared to challenge his elders, rather than showing them honor or respect.
Jesus, they think, has changed. He exhibits a sense of authority that they did not see in him growing up. He teaches them differently than what they know. They may have felt he was judging them, and they did not like it.
Can you imagine?
It’s almost like they laid out the proverbial red carpet for him and his disciples when they entered the town and then chased them out with proverbial pitchforks!
And what does Jesus do? He takes his disciples and makes teams of two and tells them to go out and use their authority over unclean spirits and teach and call people to repent. But, he told them, don’t go out with anything that will make life more comfortable. Go out and counting on the generosity of others to feed and give them someplace to sleep.
And, Jesus said, AND, if they treat you poorly and refuse to hear what you have to say, if they turn their backs on being healed and won’t give you food or lodging, leave, but not without shaking the dust off your feet. Not without the community knowing that they were not welcoming to these visitors.
I don’t know about you, but it feels to me like Jesus is sending these twelve men out expecting that they will be poorly treated. That he wants them to know just how difficult it will be to get people to change their ways and see what it means to the community when everyone is included, and no one is sent out to the margins of everyday living due to circumstances often out of their control.
The disciples probably feared what they were about to encounter—they were, of course, risking their lives. But at least they were in the company of a friend? Acquaintance? Co-worker? All to try to tell people who may or may not want to hear it about all the ways to follow God.
This Gospel ends telling us they did as they were asked, and many demons were cast out, people repented, and others were anointed and cured.
They had success.
But we don’t know how hard it was. We don’t know their stories. We can only imagine what it may have been like. Did they feel prepared? I mean, they hadn’t been with Jesus all that long. How many of them even knew how to anoint with oil? And, as we know, they were often so confused by what Jesus did and said, how were they supposed to feel confident that they could even DO what Jesus was asking? Then there’s the top-rated fear of all time: public speaking.
How many of you can relate? If I was to ask you to pair up and go and talk about Jesus, would you feel like you could easily go out of the red door, and do it?
Of course, we all have different gifts and fears about talking to others about how God has impacted our lives. Many of us were raised with the rule that we don’t talk about politics or religion to people outside of our homes—and maybe not even there.
Here’s Jesus saying—go and talk about what you know about God. He says some people are not going to like what you have to say. It’s okay. Just move on to the next place. He implies that some people will listen deeply, and you will be welcomed with open hearts, ears, and minds. And though we don’t really hear him say this, I think that sometimes people will be willing to listen, but it could take days, months or even years to really hear what was said.
We are all sent out to express the authority and power and love of God. I expect that many of you may not even know you are doing it when you are. Through deeds, through prayer, through conversations about how God has impacted your life. You might be someone who sits and listens, or someone who writes letters or emails or shares quotes on social media. There are so many ways to express the impact of God in your life and in the ways you see God moving in this world.
You may have the least success with the people who have known you the longest, like the people in Jesus’ hometown.
But there is something special about taking the risk and telling others about how you encounter God and how God has impacted your life.
There is a special bravery in those being sent out. In you and me, and all who have been sent out over the centuries. Those who go out and talk about God will encounter people who will listen and respond favorably.
They will meet people who will listen and discern over time before coming to their own conclusions.
They will find there are some people who will listen but deny the wonders of God in their lives. And some who will not listen at all.
But we, like they, are still sent.
No matter the outcome.
Because ultimately, the outcome is between them and God.
We are the vessels, sent out. Prepared in our own ways through our experiences with worship, formation, participating in a variety of ministries, and in the holy and spiritual relationships developed in places like St. James’.
You have a story to tell. You can use words, or not, but it is your story to tell. The story of how God has expressed love for you over the course of your life. People want to know that story. They want to know how God is present in your life. They are curious about what prayer means to you and how it works for you. They want to see how you are an example of God’s love through the ways you walk in this world.
Jesus was in his hometown and “his” people did not respond well to him. But you know what? That didn’t stop him. It didn’t stop the disciples. They went forth, showering the people they met with the abundant, life-giving love that can only come from God.
So go, my friends. Go and love. Amen.
