All the Earth’s Joyful Noise
“All the Earth’s Joyful Noise”
Year C Fourth Sunday after Pentecost July 3, 2022
2 Kings 5:1-14, Psalm 66:1-9, Luke 10:1-20
Pastor Andy Kennaly, First Presbyterian Church, Sandpoint, Idaho
This morning’s scriptures are classics in the history of Christianity. In 2 Kings 5:1-14, the military leader Naaman interacts with Elijah through a process of humility which brings healing, first to his ego and then to his body. Psalm 66:1-9 is quoted in most choir practices, “Make a joyful noise to God,” but we see it’s not limited to singing in church. “Make a joyful noise to God, all the Earth; sing the glory of his name; give to him glorious praise.” “All the Earth” is in on this, and let’s be clear, this means not only believers, but all creation. Then the story from Luke as Jesus, “appointed seventy others” and “sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go.” Then those classic lines saying, “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.”
One of the people that comes to mind as we read this passage from Luke is St. Francis of Assisi. He was a prisoner of war who suffered post-traumatic stress syndrome as a result of the torture he received. But he also suffered estrangement with his family of origin as his father chose materialism and wealth over authentic love and relationship. St. Francis learned through suffering: that through humility one experiences God’s glory; by letting go, one gains wisdom of eternal truths; and trusting God in the journey of a life that follows Jesus, though it may involve facing pain and stress, ultimately, Christ is the source of peace and healing. Francis chose voluntary poverty to express his faith.
St. Francis embodied these words from Luke as he “left the world,” or “left the system” and literally “carried no purse, no bag, and wore no sandals.” Yet this is how he learned insights reflected as The Prayer of St. Francis starts in the very first line with an echo to the blessing given in Luke, “Peace to this house!” as he says, “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.” As a mendicant, someone who works and begs for support, for basic sustenance, he was content with what was provided to eat and drink, and for shelter. The clothing he wore resembled many of the roads around here, more patches than original, and he wrapped his tattered robe with a rope.
In my pocket, I have a wallet and there’s a bit of cash there along with some credit cards. When I travel, instead of my wallet in a pocket, I have a pouch that holds my passport and I put my wallet in there and strap it around my neck and carry it by my hip, often underneath my shirt or jacket. Once you have something, you have to defend it. In the twelfth century, people wore belts, and these belts had pouches that held their money. St. Francis wore a rope, which has no pouches, a visible sign that he despised money. He saw the ways money became an idol in peoples’ lives, how it changed essential thought by monetizing everything, even other creatures or the elements of nature. Brother Sun and Sister Moon, Brother Tree and Sister Birds, he viewed all nature as what Thomas Berry calls, “A communion of subjects, rather than a collection of objects.” So, Francis wore a rope, and Franciscans traditionally wear ropes in their lives of simplicity.
The rest of this passage is filled with rather intense cultural images, like remaining in the same house instead of trading up for nicer, more expensive digs. Like eating and drinking what is set before you, rather than worrying about Jewish purity laws that restrict diet to certain foods and forbidding others, but to know that it’s not the food that corrupts, but the heart. Like being treated in one town with welcome and having the ability to heal, unlike other towns that do not welcome and limit your ministry. Wipe off the dust; this is a loaded image, like two sides of the same coin. One is insulting, like the middle finger towards the unwelcoming town, flippin’ the bird as a way of expressing righteous indignation. Yet this is tempered by the other side, a deeper intent, one in which love can hold that all too raw discomfort and pain. Shaking the dust off is a way of entrusting giving over those unruly townspeople into God’s larger care, with trust that God will reach their hearts somehow, just not through you. It’s an expression of letting go and moving on. But this is hard to do. Which is why the last image is so amazing as we’re surprised to learn that those disciples didn’t come back with grudging reports or share their disgust, but they, like the others, were filled with joy. How do they do that?! “The seventy” means all of them. “The seventy returned with joy.”
Unity is the core of Jesus’ teaching, an inner unity given outer expression, much like communion does with bread and juice as we re-member and are sent as Christ’s body in the world. “Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me, and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.” These are words of unity, with God and one another.
That’s the encouragement in these passages: ongoing Presence, to know that the Kingdom of Heaven has come near. Nothing can hurt heaven. Heaven is where God’s Presence is. Joy reminds us that we don’t have to wait for heaven. To die before you die helps us sit in God’s Presence now. We live with God in our hearts, and heaven is where God dwells, so heaven is in our hearts. It’s our hearts that divine Presence heals us from within. It’s in our hearts where joy proclaims, “the Kingdom of Heaven is near.” Our hearts carry our inherent image and likeness of God in ways that celebrate unity and love.
As we join that great cloud of witnesses, may God open our hearts, send us forth with blessings of peace to share, and be the source of joy with no end. Thanks be to God that we join all the Earth in a joyful noise. Amen.
Benediction: As a blessing today, I’d like to share the prayer of St. Francis as we claim peace and joy through the glorious and humble heart of Jesus in our lives:
Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace;
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
And where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console;
To be understood, as to understand;
To be loved, as to love;
For it is in giving that we receive,
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
And it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.
As we go, may we be instruments of God’s peace, even as we join “all the Earth’s joyful noise” to the praise of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.