June 12, 2005 At Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK
Exodus 19:2-6 + Romans 5:6-11 + Matthew 9:39-10:8
“Compassion” is the only word we have in English to translate a Greek word that has far more power than we can imagine with the translation. “Empathy” might get closer, and yet that does not quite have the strength and the depth of pity that is there. It describes a kind a movement at the very deepest part of our being. Perhaps the closest we might get to imagining what Matthew is really describing is the depth of emotion and passion that a parent might have at the sight of one of their children in unimaginable pain or agony. The sight of such a terror would wrench the deepest part of a parent in anguish and sorry. There comes with it the strongest of desires to remove the offence, to take away the pain, to heal the wound, and if that were not possible, to take the agony upon themselves and free the child from the terrible experience. That is getting close to the Greek word that Matthew chooses for this experience. The word is used a couple of times in parables, but Matthew, Mark, and Luke use it only of Jesus, and there are five conditions that move Jesus that powerfully.
Jesus was moved to this compassion by the world’s pain. He could not ever see someone suffering and not ease the pain.
Jesus was moved to compassion by the world’s sorrow. The mere sight of the woman who had lost her only son moved his heart to dry her tears and return the son to her living.
Jesus was moved to compassion by the world’s hunger. The sight of a hungry crowd moved him to search for food and feed. No Christian can be content to have too much while others have too little.
Jesus was moved to compassion by the world’s loneliness. The sight of a leper banished from his own people called forth his power every time he saw it.
Jesus was moved to compassion by the world’s bewilderment. Common people longing for God with the scribes and Pharisees everywhere having nothing to offer led him to every synagogue he could find to offer guidance, and comfort, and strength, and the hope of God’s Word.
This “compassion” that we find in Jesus is not a sentiment, but a tool by which Jesus enters into the very experience that moves him so deeply. He knows pain. He knows sorrow. He knows hunger, loneliness and bewilderment, and with God-like compassion his whole life becomes focused on easing the pain, drying the tears, sharing the food, embracing the outcast, and revealing the presence and power of God’s love. This is what he would have for his apostles.
Take note that while he calls the apostles from among others, the commission they received is not reserved to a select few. Matthew makes the point that there are twelve of them. For those who receive his Gospel, that number twelve evokes a sense of totality because every Israelite belonged to one of the twelve tribes. The whole nation is called to the mission, and as Matthew prefigures the church as the new Israel, it is you and me whose passions must be stirred at the deepest level by the conditions of life that cause pain and sorrow; hunger, loneliness, and bewilderment.
We are not sent on this mission that gives purpose and focus to our lives just as much as it did to the life of Jesus without the gifts that empower us. That reminder closes this Gospel proclamation today. “Without cost you have received, without cost you are to give.” says this translation today. “What you have received as a gift, give as a gift.” says another more clearly. “What you have received as a gift, give as a gift.” I don’t think there is a more powerful, more clear, nor more precise statement in all the New Testament that expresses who we are and why we are here.
But our Christian history is littered with grave and disappointing examples of failure because of our possessiveness and sense of entitlement. Religious people must be reminded of this truth constantly, that what we have, everything, is nothing but a gift; and that gift has been given for one reason only, to be given away in the same spirit with which it was given. This is the grounding of Christian ministry. Everything we do rests upon a rich sense of gratitude.
Grateful here in this church, we are compassionate there, outside these walls where the sorrowful, the suffering, the lonely, the hungry, and the confused wait for divine mercy. We have the gifts. We have the tools. We have the power to do for them everything Jesus did for those he met day in and day out. What is keeping us from great performing the same great signs and wonders that the Kingdom of God is near? Maybe we have hear what He said again in the face of our possessiveness:
“What you have received as gift, give as gift.”