This morning’s Gospel reading is Luke 10:1–12, 17–20:
At that time the Lord appointed seventy-two others whom he sent ahead of him in pairs to every town and place he intended to visit. He said to them, “The harvest is abundant but the laborers are few; so ask the master of the harvest to send out laborers for his harvest. Go on your way; behold, I am sending you like lambs among wolves. Carry no money bag, no sack, no sandals; and greet no one along the way. Into whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this household.’ If a peaceful person lives there, your peace will rest on him; but if not, it will return to you. Stay in the same house and eat and drink what is offered to you, for the laborer deserves his payment. Do not move about from one house to another. Whatever town you enter and they welcome you, eat what is set before you, cure the sick in it and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God is at hand for you.’ Whatever town you enter and they do not receive you, go out into the streets and say, ‘The dust of your town that clings to our feet, even that we shake off against you.’ Yet know this: the kingdom of God is at hand. I tell you, it will be more tolerable for Sodom on that day than for that town.”
The seventy-two returned rejoicing, and said, “Lord, even the demons are subject to us because of your name.” Jesus said, “I have observed Satan fall like lightning from the sky. Behold, I have given you the power to ‘tread upon serpents’ and scorpions and upon the full force of the enemy and nothing will harm you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice because the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice because your names are written in heaven.”
Way back in the day, we used to do memes the hard way — at the Xerox machine. Cubicle life in corporate America in the mid-1980s came with Steelcase short walls covered in fabric, which were then covered in jokes and pushpins. Most of these offered wry observations on the work at hand or on the corporate environment. For instance, I worked in a technical publications division for a defense contractor, where one of my tasks was editing the manuals for systems we produced. More than a couple of us posted a popular Xero-meme at the time that still sticks with me, and it went something like this: “The most irresistible impulse in human existence is the need to edit revise rewrite alter update modify another’s copy.” (And it’s true, too.)
Another one has stuck with me over the years, also because it’s largely true. The Xero-meme took the form of an official-looking certicate declaring the holder a recipient of One Attaboy. The bearer of this award was lauded for his/her performance, informed of the benefits and rights attained with the Attaboy, and heralded as a example for others. However, at the end came this warning: “One aws**t will negate 1,000 attaboys.”
And that’s usually true, too.
This comes to mind in today’s Gospel reading, not because we will be judged solely on our worst moments, but because we won’t be solely judged on our best moments, either. We are not running a sprint but a marathon, whose purpose is not to beat everyone else to the line but just to make sure we finish. And to extend that analogy, finishing isn’t enough. We are called to make sure as many people as possible finish with us.
In earlier reflections on this Gospel passage, I have mainly focused on the mission that Jesus gives his 72 disciples. It is the first hint we see of Jesus’ plan to build a missionary Church to teach His Word, and to heal the world by reversing the previous plan of salvation. Before Christ, the gentiles were to come to Jerusalem for the Word and the Law; now Jerusalem would come to the world, not as conquerors but as humble servants to heal us of our sinfulness.
Today, though, let us focus on Jesus’ mild rebuke and teaching upon their return. The disciples excitedly relate what they have accomplished in Jesus’ name, and their enthusiasm is understandable. It is still premature, especially at this stage of the Church’s development. This was the first step of that marathon, not the finish line, even though the disciples had accomplished marvelous works in His name.
Jesus reminds them — and us — that we have to keep our eyes on the prize. An ‘attaboy’ does one no good if the end result is a failure of mission, and that is truly a lesson I learned in two decades of managerial experience in corporate America. In one instance, an organization had a program by which employees could (and often would) award their colleagues some recognition for whatever they wanted. As one might imagine, the awards proliferated while phones went unanswered and customer complaints soared. Rather than keep focus on the end goal and succeeding at that mission, employees felt more compelled to engage in mutual back-slapping while the true demerits piled up. (Yes, this is a true story.)
The return of the disciples in this passage is nowhere near the absurdity of that situation. However, the same error exists in both — to mistake a short-term goal for the entire mission. We call that “missing the forest for the trees” sometimes, and it fits. The disciples understandably thought they had achieved the mission when they successfully cast out the demons, but Jesus knew better. The point of the Church isn’t to cast out demons alone, but to cast its nets for all the souls and bring them to the Lord — and to do so after Jesus’ Ascension, when the real mission began.
Consider the numbers, too. On this occasion, Jesus sent 72 disciples to go out in pairs. By the time of His Passion, how many of these had remained with Jesus? We only know of 12, one of whom would betray Jesus. We know that others were around, but after Jesus’ sermon about eating His flesh and drinking His blood (John 6:53-55), most of His followers had abandoned Jesus. We can certainly presume that there were nowhere near 72 in the Upper Room on that Passover. That means a substantial number of those first 72 missionaries had abandoned the nascent Church when the going got a little tougher.
The ‘attaboys’ don’t amount to much, other than encouragement to keep running. The finish line is the goal of this marathon, and Jesus gently but firmly reminds them that the only reason for rejoicing is to live in the love of the Lord for eternity. That is the Church’s mission for all of us, and because we are also the Church, our mission is to bring as many souls with us to the Lord as possible. That effort does not end on our first mission in the field, but remains with us as disciples of Christ all the way to the end.
As Paul wrote to Timothy, in a passage not in today’s lectionary:
I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.
Celebrate the successes, but don’t mistake those for the mission itself. Paul urges us all to cross the finish line, where attaboys and demerits won’t matter anymore to those who have kept the faith and loved as Jesus did. A crown of righteousness beats 1,000 attaboys too — and any multitude of attaboys one can conceive.
Previous reflections on these readings:
The front page image is Seventy Disciples, c.15th century, an illustration from a Greek manuscript miniature. Via Wikimedia Commons.
“Sunday Reflection” is a regular feature that looks at the specific readings used in today’s Mass in Catholic parishes around the world. The reflection represents only my own point of view, intended to help prepare myself for the Lord’s day and perhaps spark a meaningful discussion. Previous Sunday Reflections from the main page can be found here.
