July 3, 2016 Luke 10:1–11, 16–20

After this the Lord appointed seventy others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. Jesus said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house!’ And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’ But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, ‘Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you.

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As a hospital chaplain, if there was one thing I disliked more than anything else, it was knocking on doors. I would hesitate in the hallway, taking a breath or saying a prayer, while listening for sounds that were clues I shouldn’t knock. When there were none, with reluctance I would then lift my hand wondering how hard to tap or bang, and hearing a response, I would slowly open the door. I didn’t want to seem proselytizing, especially to someone who was stuck vulnerable in the hospital. I just wanted to listen and support them, if I could, perhaps learn about someone’s life, or life in general, and if they were game, explore where the sacred was touching their day, but its hard to explain that with a knock. Perhaps, knocking is innately pervasive, perhaps that's why doorbells were invented, perhaps that's why good friends are welcome in without the host having to open the door. But the Seventy are in that knocking place, just like I was, where they are strangers, deciding the nuances between tapping or banging on the door.

In the morning, as a chaplain, I would check my patient census, and after visiting the most critical people, I would look down my list for the people who had marked that they had a religious preference. My hope was that if they were willing to name themselves Lutheran, or Catholic, or Protestant, that they might be less offended by my knocking on the door and introducing myself as Spiritual Care. It didn’t always work, sometimes I left wondering if their only religious affiliation was the clergy they wanted to do their funeral, other times those who listed no religion created the most meaningful conversations of the day. I don’t imagine much difference with the seventy trying to decide on which door to knock. What signs did they look for, a well kept yard, a wreath on the door, children playing outside, laughter echoing out? Did they look for those who already had a religious preference, or for those who didn’t? Did they have the same experience, where, from the outside, they could not tell how or if they would be received? There is unknown on the other side of the door.

My first day I was so nervous I went though the patient census, about thirty people, by noon. I would shuffle in and introduce myself as I was walking backward out the door. I had to learn quickly to look for clues I was being received. Did they offer me a chair, did they look at me when they talked, did they ask what was Spiritual Care, did they offer something about themselves? I had to learn questions to open up that space. Would you like a visit? What brought you here? how long have you been here and how long will you stay? Do you have something you are hoping for when you leave? What's getting you through this day, whats holding you back? Who has visited you; whom are those flowers from? What’s your tattoo about? What’s God been like in this time? I wonder about the disciples’ questions. What was their opening line? I would like to visit with you an tell you about a man I met, would that be okay? Or did they first learn about the people, eat a meal together and then share? How do you imagine the initial conversation going?

Moreover, the disciples are being sent without anything, no money, no food, no extra clothes, etc. They are forced to rely on those who welcome them. As a hospital chaplain we were not allowed to take, “crutches,” as our supervisor called them, no guitars, no pets, no books, just yourself. Without those crutches we couldn’t be distracted from listening and we couldn’t fall back on them to fill awkward or hard spaces. We couldn’t put on a show; it wasn’t about us. The only talking we did was to ask questions and offer prayer. The disciples were being sent out to build relationships with strangers, to support them, and encourage them, and maybe expand with them their imagine of God. This passage, is told from the disciples point of view, but its not about the disciples. And I wonder, when might we do the same?

There are about ten people in this church that could use regular visits, that someone from the church, once a week, has stopped in, maybe for fifteen minutes, maybe for half an hour, maybe an hour while a caregiver takes a break. I wonder how afraid are we to knock on their doors? Of those ten, I know who is inside. Anne Kirkpatrick is ninety-three and visiting her feels like playing a tea party with a kind and mentally astute women. Mike Baker is easy to ask questions, and may give you different answers, but is genuine. Pat Fessel though physically a shadow is still her spunky self. Louise Trapp loves to sit in the sunshine and has lots of stories. I could go on, but you get the picture. It's way better on the inside. Likewise, we have about ninety people who could use a visit once a year. They are for the most part, the people around you, and likewise, they are not so scary. You know this by Carolyn and Tom’s thoughtfulness, by the pictures Ben Merrill posts of his kids, by Zach Allen’s laugh, by Calli’s game face at sporting events, by Katya’s serious music study. Here, this is one of my favorite parts of my job, visits. Last night at the Defrees wedding I literally popped out of my chair seeing Kate Averett and Danny O’Neal former youth group kids, it because we have done those visits. Likewise, I got a big hug from Dr. Bob, who taught me to drive stick shift in a cattle pasture (that's a story). Anyway, find things those people like to do, or show them something you enjoy. We are a church but sometimes we feel like strangers. We get scared of what it on the other side of the door. I bet you it will be something you enjoy. It's not that hard once you get in. But it takes getting to know someone new and it is amazing grace to then be received and then when they walk in these doors you will pop up with that excited face because you know their story and they know yours. So I invite you as strangers to knock on each others doors. Amen.