Travelling Light (Luke 10:1-11)

Rev. Christine Ng

            When I was a kid, my family would take a trip every other summer. My parents would save up for two years, and then we would go – usually to Europe. We would fly this really cheap airline that used to run out of Nassau called International Air Bahamas. It flew into someplace that was otherwise not on most people’s European itineraries – Luxembourg – and then we would rent a car and drive around for three weeks. My parents thought it was important for us to get out of town, out of our comfort zones, see the world and interact with it.

They believed that you just couldn’t really understand about a place from a book – you had to go there, walk the streets, meet the people. So we did.

 My Mom would have worked out a plan using Fodors and AAA guides and off we would go. Usually we didn’t have any idea where we would be staying at night, or where we would eat – we’d just drive into some small town on the way and see what we could find.

 Rarely did the folks we met along the way speak English. So ordering in restaurants was always a challenge – dictionaries only get you so far – and often we weren’t precisely sure what we had ordered. But, funny thing, it almost always worked out. And even if it didn’t, well, we ate what was given to us – we needed the food to sustain us on our journey, and it was polite. Now things weren’t always perfect, like the occasional room without heat and bathrooms down the hall – which I was not used to – but I can’t recall my parents ever complaining to management. They were good times.

 And I want to show you something. This suitcase is just a little bigger, and because of the wheels, a lot heavier, than what we used to travel for those three weeks. Of course, this was before they started putting wheels on suitcases. My Dad had one rule – each of us had to carry our own bag, and we could only take what we could carry. I have fond memories of us smiling at each other at airports, especially customs, as we waltzed past people waiting, and waiting, for porters to get their heavy suitcases, or in some enlightened airports, rushed and fought to get one the too few luggage carts. What freedom! Living out of those suitcases, we usually looked kind of rumpled – but we didn’t care. The journey, and the adventure of the journey, was everything.

 Now we have wheels on all our bags – so we can take bigger ones, take more stuff – but I’m not sure that is really an improvement – especially when I have to go up or down stairs because the escalators and elevator aren’t working. Remember when the elevator used to be for the handicapped? Well, we’re handicapped alright – by our luggage. If you don’t believe me, watch the luggage check in line for Southwest Airlines – one of the few that doesn’t charge to check bags. It’s amazing.

 And the sad thing is that I’m not sure I could do it anymore – live three weeks out of one tiny suitcase. It would be a real struggle. I would hope I could adapt, but I don’t know. This summer  I will be gone two weeks with Jenny – we’ll see.

 But another interesting thing about these summer travels with my folks, I cannot remember a single time when people weren’t at least pleasant to us – if not downright nice – even in places I later heard were famous for their rudeness – like Paris.

 Looking back, I think it was because  — my family always travelled with open minds and open hearts – willing to be pleased, willing to share, willing to meet people more than half way. They didn’t speak the language, any of them – most of this was before I studied French in school and my Father who took three years of French could only say two things: Je ne comprend pas le Francais (I don’t speak French), and “mercy” – not merci, thank you, but mercy. We would routinely mangle the phrases in our guidebooks like that – but we tried. And people responded to that.

 This is what I thought of when I looked again at today’s scripture verse as Jesus was sending his followers out on their own travels, sending them out in small groups to the places he would later go on his way to Jerusalem. They couldn’t talk to anyone to make plans ahead of time – they couldn’t know where they would sleep or where or what they would eat. Jesus pushed them out beyond their comfort zones and into the world.

 Let’s look again at Jesus’ instructions to these missionaries. They were to enter a town, and stay wherever they were welcomed – they didn’t get to pick and choose. That’s Christian hospitality. Usually we talk about hospitality as in the spiritual practice of giving it to others – welcoming all as guests of God. But here we see that hospitality is not a one-way street. It also means graciously accepting the hospitality offered even when the accommodations are not what we would prefer. Or the food, after all, Jesus tells them to eat and drink whatever is given to them. Because it is the table fellowship, not the menu, that is most important.

 Then Jesus tells them to cure the sick – show others compassion, care. Be open and willing to share what they had with those in need.

 And then finally, they were to proclaim that the kingdom of God had come near. Could it be, perhaps, that in that faithful, loving ministry of those disciples that the kingdom of God really did come near? Or that through them it became visible.

 And perhaps, just perhaps, they needed to travel light to make it happen. Jesus didn’t want anything holding them back, slowing them down. So they were to travel very light indeed; Jesus told them, “Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals,” no money, so they couldn’t purchase food they wanted or a place to sleep – this meant they couldn’t follow the Jewish dietary laws – but the journey, and the mission, was more important. They couldn’t bring a bag, no suitcase at all, so no possessions but the clothes on their backs. My little suitcase is looking pretty luxurious right about now.  I think these instructions were about being open, trusting God on the journey, and not letting the things and cares of the world weigh you down on the way.

 And they were to take no sandals, no shoes. No shoes – here we go with the barefoot thing again. No shoes – they needed to go out with an attitude of humility and reverence, like Moses approaching the burning bush – recognizing that all they were walking on, however foreign or unfamiliar, was holy ground.

 Professor Marilyn Salmon once asked her seminary students to imagine themselves as one of the 70, or 72, and imagine what would be most challenging about this journey. She found their answers depended on their own experiences, where they were coming from. Many responses were predictable; not having money even for emergencies, no food, depending on strangers for food and shelter, not being able to chose their travelling partner, and so on.

But one student spoke up and said, “Eating what is set before you.” There was silence, and a bit of nervous laughter, so he repeated it, in a way to show he was very serious.

 When asked, he recalled his own journeys with his family as a child. His father was a pastor who rode circuit in a very poor, rural area. The family was often invited to dinner by parishioners. Most were farmers, but in some remote parts, the people had to forage for what they could find, trap, or kill nearby. So, the pastor and his family “just never knew what [they] would have to eat.” But they, like the 70 here, had to eat what they were given. So for him, that was the hardest part of Jesus’ instructions for this journey.

 So I challenge you. Imagine yourself one of these 70 – sent out by Jesus on the way to Jerusalem. What is the hardest thing for you to let go of – what baggage do you need to leave behind? Because we are all people on a journey – a journey with and for God – and we need to travel light. Amen.