We celebrate today the Feast of St Luke the Evangelist. Each of the four gospels has its own distinct emphasis, which often comes across most clearly in those passages which are unique to that particular gospel. The sending out of the 70 disciples is one such passage, peculiar to St Luke’s gospel, so we are bound to ask: Why did he put it in, when others left it out? Part of the answer to that question probably lies in his own experience of mission in the company of St Paul. Luke had travelled with St Paul as he crossed the Aegean Sea to bring the gospel to Europe (Acts 16). He was with Paul again for part of his third journey (Acts 20) heading back to Jerusalem with the collection he had taken up for the relief of poverty among the Christians there. He sailed with Paul on his final journey as a prisoner from Caesarea to Rome, surviving with him the winter storm that shipwrecked their vessel on the island of Malta (Acts 27-28). As our second reading reminded us, he was still with Paul in Rome for the first hearing of his case (2 Tim 4.11). We don’t know how much longer Luke stayed, but we suppose he must have left Rome, and settled in Achaea, before Paul was martyred in the persecution under the Emperor Nero that followed the great fire of Rome in the summer of AD 64. As the Roman authorities began to turn increasingly against the Christian community, Luke addressed his two books – the gospel and the Acts of the Apostles – to Theophilus, not a specific person probably, but a name for the influential God-fearing, Greek-speaking citizen of the Roman empire who needed to understand what Christianity was all about, why this originally Jewish cult was now spreading beyond the Jewish communities, and why it was in no way threatening to the Roman civil power. It was from the start a fundamentally mission-oriented document.
The kingdom of God has come near to you. This challenging text is central to Luke’s gospel. The seventy disciples were given a relatively straightforward task. They were to go to the towns and cities that Jesus himself was intending to visit, and tell people he was coming. Exciting news. Even before he got there, they were to say: The kingdom of God has come near to you. And they were to give evidence of that by healing the sick and sharing the peace.
There is another aspect to Luke’s story which may not be quite so obvious. The number 70 is almost certainly symbolic rather than a precise head-count. In the Jewish culture in which Luke’s gospel is firmly rooted, the 70 descendants of Noah that are named in the book of Genesis were regarded as the ancestors of all the nations on earth; and when the leadership of the Israelites became too much for Moses, he was advised by God to appoint 70 assistants to share the burden of leadership with him. So when Luke reports the sending out of 70 disciples, he probably sees this as a symbolic launching of the worldwide mission of the church.
The 70 disciples were to proclaim Jesus’ message of healing and peace unconditionally, but it could be rejected. The kingdom of God has come near. The people had only to reach out to embrace it, but they were not forced to do so. This is an important thread in Luke’s narrative. He sees the rejection of Jesus and his message by the Jews as opening the way for the Christian Church in all its diversity to become the new people of God. In the Acts of the Apostles, although Paul follows Jesus’ own example in taking the gospel first to the Jewish community wherever he goes, his message encounters at best a mixed reception. At the very end of Acts, when the Jews at Rome have again been divided in their response to his message, Paul cites a prophecy from Isaiah which appears to anticipate just such an outcome: ‘You will indeed listen, but never understand, and you will indeed look but never perceive.’ (Acts 28.26, citing Isaiah 6.9). And he concludes with this forthright statement: Let it be known to you then, that this salvation of God has been sent to the Gentiles; they will listen (Acts 28.28).
The kingdom of God has come near. We have only to reach out to embrace it, but we are not forced to do so. We come to church. In this beautiful place, hallowed by centuries of prayer, we may perhaps be more aware of God’s presence than elsewhere. We learn here about God; we learn about Jesus. We hear that the kingdom of God, his kingdom, is near. We are offered the healing and peace that Jesus can bring into our lives. We meet people who know him. They don’t wear lapel badges, thank goodness, but sometimes we catch a reflection of his love in the warmth of a smile, or the kindness of an eye. And we long for that sense of healing and peace in our lives too. In those moments the kingdom of God is very near. We can ignore it of course. We can dismiss it as wishful thinking. We can go back to work on Monday and forget all about it. But the offer has been made. The kingdom of God has come near, and we are free to choose the peace and healing which flows from the presence of Jesus in our hearts and lives, or to shut him out, with all the sad consequences that may flow from that act of rejection. That choice is the most important decision any of us ever has to make, and it is central to Luke’s gospel.
In this place, we are fortunate. We have been offered that choice, and many of us have welcomed the gospel. But we are the lucky ones. The task of the 70 disciples is an ongoing one, and although the Church has by now carried the Gospel to virtually every corner of the globe, it remains desperately under-resourced. In London itself, as indeed in most of our great cities, the Church is thin on the ground, especially in those areas where there is most need. Last week we were reminded from this pulpit that the Church of England recommends that its members contribute 5% of post-tax income to the church, and another 5% to other good causes. Looking at the stewardship posters which show how few of us give more than £50 a month – a sum which represents 5% of only £12,000 per annum – it’s a fair bet that some of us are not coming anywhere near to that benchmark. As a result not only is there a risk that clergy numbers in the diocese of London will have to be cut next year, but clergy pay, which is by no means generous – around £20,000 per annum – may not even keep pace with inflation. Our Gospel reading noted that the labourer deserves to be paid. The clergy don’t expect to be rich, but we should be ashamed not to give enough to pay them more than that. I know that some people in this congregation give generously in proportionate terms from very small incomes, and some who cannot give much in cash, give a lot of their time. But the rest of us need to review our committed giving levels very seriously against the diocesan benchmarks, and some of us may need to dip deeper into our pockets than we have done in the past.
I want to end with St Paul. He wasn’t a 5% man. He gave his whole life to the mission of the young church, and as he awaited the outcome of his trial in Rome, he knew that his life was almost over. He sees himself as being poured out as a libation, an offering to the Lord whom he will serve till his dying day. He had embraced the kingdom of God, when it came near to him on the Damascus road. Now the kingdom was embracing him, and the most restless of all the apostles was at peace. Few of us will even begin to live up to his example, but it’s a higher benchmark than 5%, and one that we should strive towards if the mission of the 70 is to be realised in our time.