Sometimes I have thought I would like to have a dog. Is there anything wrong with that? Way back in 1992, some kind friends gave me the little puppy of my dreams—a little white dog with black spots and one all-black ear, that I named “Red.” But after only two weeks, I asked them to take her back; I was getting angry with her because I was neglecting my work to take care of her. That’s no kind of way to be with a dog.
Sometimes I have thought I would like to have a house: a place to call “my own.” I have thought about neighborhoods. I have thought about how the space should be: how many and what kind of rooms. I have thought, also, of the costs, both of time and of money, to own a home. And I have thanked God that when the home-owning “fit” seized me, I did not have both the money and the inclination at the same time.
Jesus speaks to fledgling missionaries in today’s gospel. He tells them, “Carry no money bag, no sack, no sandals.” In effect, Do not supply yourselves with the things you think you will need for the mission you are about to undertake. “I am sending you as lambs among wolves,” Jesus says. In effect, You will not be able to defend yourselves; but neither will you have to do so: it is the Father who will see to your safety. “The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few; so ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest.” Perhaps this means that these missionaries should never forget that they are going on mission not because they have chosen it, but because they have been chosen. They must know that they and future generations of missionaries are completely dependent on God.
And words from last Sunday’s gospel: “The Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.” So, maybe: Why do you need a house of your own? Maybe even, Don’t look for companionship from a dog with polka-dots.
Dog- and cat-lovers of the parish: I’m not talking about you. Home-owners of the parish, you have my envy and my sympathy. The message of the Scriptures today speaks of the prosperity which God alone can provide, the peace that makes the believer “prosper,” the confidence which comes through laying aside the over-packed suitcase, the hundred dollar bill you like to hide in your hat-band (or elsewhere . . .). The word of God today seems to me a call to forget those self-protective measures and allow God to take care of you. In what, specifically? In the work to which God has called you of proclaiming the Kingdom of God.
If, at first thought, you do not see yourself among the seventy-two, do not recognize yourself as one “sent” by Jesus, just know that the gifts you have been given are, themselves, your invitation. Your intelligence, your good will. The skill you have developed over the years, the longing in your heart for “purpose” or “meaning.” The budding recognition that the faith that holds us together around Jesus is more than ideas. Wherever our mind and heart may be on the journey, we can hear the call to share with the world around us the peace of belonging to God in Christ. The only preparation we absolutely need is to place ourselves in God’s care, and trust to God the whole enterprise of our life.
José Haro, a son of St. Joseph parish, like me and like Fr. Jim Swiat before me, and Fr. David Boileau before him, hears the words of Jesus: Lamb among wolves, don’t worry. The God who sends you will protect and sustain you. The God who calls you will provide for your welfare. José will be with us for a few weeks this summer. He is, in a certain sense, the answer to our prayers to the Master of the Harvest.
And we—this parish and its members—are evidence of the Father’s care for this messenger of Good News. God will always provide.
The Eucharist is the “feast of heaven-on-earth,” the “table of plenty” at which God nourishes those who belong to Christ by sharing his faith in the Father. Here, we develop a heart of obedience, of such confidence in God that we are able to trust our lives to him in communion with Jesus himself.
