Prophets in the Old Testament were ‘disturbers’. They spoke truth to power, and challenged complacency among the people and leaders. Today’s passage from Jeremiah tells of two prophets who speak into very difficult times for the Israelites, around 600 BCE. The Babylonians have conquered Jerusalem, captured many of its leaders, and carried them into exile. The small band of people who remain in the wrecked city long for an end to Babylonian oppression, and to be restored to freedom. They long to hear this word from God.
The prophet Hananiah speaks into this desire, announcing that God has broken the power of the Babylonians and the time of exile is over. Everything the people have lost is to be restored, God will ensure a quick and easy deliverance; now they can celebrate. This is exactly what the people long to hear. The hard times are over! God will fix everything! Hananiah’s is a message of reassurance and triumph. But there’s a problem with Hananiah’s message; alluring as it is, it’s sentimental; it’s not a message from God.
God’s message comes through Jeremiah who has a bit of a reputation for being an old misery who only ever speaks words of gloom and doom. In fact he is often referred to as the “weeping prophet”. His persistent message is of deep sorrow and grief for the moral decay of God’s people. There’s not much celebrating with Jeremiah! So, true to form, Jeremiah condemns Hananiah’s comfortable prophecy saying it is false and dangerous, accusing him of offering cheap comfort and false hope to God’s people. The Babylonian exile will not end quickly, Jeremiah says. God’s people must wait and pray and surrender and repent. Jeremiah doesn’t speak to win friends; he speaks only truth.
Being a prophet demands telling hard, and holy truths, about injustice, about the call to live lives that build honest relationships between people of every nation, people and the planet, people and God. Being a prophet is rarely going to make anyone popular. It takes courage, and conviction, and a certain disregard for how one might be perceived, that can, and often does, lead to persecution.
More recent prophets might include Martin Luther King Junior who utilised nonviolent resistance to challenge societal apathy, calling the people toward equality and shared humanity. He was assassinated in 1968. Greta Thunberg has been called a prophet by many, speaking out about our broken relationship with the Earth and the climate emergency. She has also been widely criticised and indeed ridiculed and targeted with words of hatred and contempt.
In our Gospel, Jesus speaks, among other things, about the welcome of prophets. This short section of Matthew’s Gospel is not necessarily a passage we remember. It is only three verses, and even in its brevity it feels repetitive, causing us perhaps to switch off, and then be left wondering, ‘What was that all about?’ It took me several attempts reading this week’s passages over several days to be able to recall what they were about – and I found the gospel in particular somewhat slippery!
Perhaps it’s partly a side effect of having been on holiday, walking in the sea fog, rain, and occasional sun on the south Wales coast. On my return, as I struggled to write this sermon, I was beginning to worry that the fog had penetrated my brain and would prevent me discovering what this passage could possibly be saying to us at Holy Cross today!
I was aware of a temptation to offer a rather simplistic, naive interpretation of the passage. The Gospel says: “Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward. Whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous. Whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple — none of these will lose their reward.”
The ‘cup of water’ was the only bit that didn’t slip from my mind, and so it seemed quite simple – Jesus wants us to be welcoming, to be charitable to those who are in need, and then we’ll be rewarded. There! Sorted! At Holy Cross we can be fairly confident that we are a welcoming congregation – people who arrive as guests often comment on the warmth of welcome, and through our hospitality visitors quickly become friends, and many move towards belonging – Holy Cross becomes a place that feels like home.
And then, in a similar way to the fog rolling in off the sea in Wales, my uncertainty returned. I sensed there was something that just wasn’t quite right. How did this comfortable interpretation fit with the challenging prophetic Jeremiah passage? Was this a Hananiah-like temptation, looking for a nice, easy message? As I struggled and read and re-read the passage, I became aware I was perhaps looking at this Gospel from the wrong direction. Perhaps, I thought, this passage is not so much about how we offer welcome, but rather about being welcomed in surprising ways, and discovering the face or hand of Jesus in all who offer welcome, even in people and places where we might not expect it.
In Chapter 10 of Matthew, often called the Commissioning of the disciples, which we have been reading over the past few weeks, Jesus gives his closest friends and followers authority to go out on his behalf, to preach that the Kingdom of Heaven is near at hand, giving them many instructions about what they need with them (very little!) and the challenges they are likely to face (very many!) But, he tells them, they will never be alone, for God’s Spirit is with them.
Jesus certainly doesn’t presume they will receive a warm welcome. Followers of Jesus were on the margins (not a position that we in the western Churches have been used to). They went as vulnerable outsiders with little security. And they were to take nothing – no money, no food, no extra clothes. They were to be entirely dependent on others’ hospitality, through God’s grace, and, they can assume that God will ensure they are provided for.
Jesus seems to be instructing the disciples to be vulnerable, facing danger, hostility and rejection. And then we come to this short passage, the last three verses of the chapter, the very last things Jesus says to them, before they go. And in these verses they discover that the path they will walk can lead to a recognition of Christ in those they meet, at the same time as others may see Christ in them. Vulnerability can enable us to both see the other, and to be seen.
What then is the message for us? Perhaps that those who live on the margins of society – often overlooked or living without material or social security – might in fact be the ones who can show us the face of Jesus if we can only overcome our own prejudices and see them.
So this week, let’s pray for eyes that are open to look around us, and notice the hand, or see the face of Jesus. It might well be in unexpected places and people. And let’s pray that we too might reflect Jesus in how we live. When we’re waiting to see the doctor who is running late; frustrated in a traffic queue; hurt or angered by another’s words or actions. Do we show love? Or do we more often show anger, or distrust, or even hatred? Let’s pray for honest self-awareness, and remember that we are called to be the hand, the face of Jesus for one another. We are called to be workers in and for the building of the Kingdom of God here today.
Because, if not here, where? And if not now, when?