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. He 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. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.'
Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me, and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.
The seventy returned with joy, saying, "Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!" He said to them, "I watched Satan fall from heaven like a flash of lightning. See, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing will hurt you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven."
A WARM UP VISIT
So, it is true that faith really matters here in Fox Hill, Wisconsin, my hometown, the gateway to central Wisconsin. The streets and houses all seemed to be deserted this week. There’s still traffic on Main Street, but no one ever stops. It’s summer people, travelling from Chicago and Milwaukee to their lake camps in northern Wisconsin. They don’t even blink an eye when they pass through Fox Hill. They think Bud’s prices for gas at the Sinclair station are way too high, but Bud has to pay a hefty price to get the gas delivered. They’re all in too much of a hurry to stop at Bertha’s Bagels and Brews; where you can get a bagel and coffee for breakfast, a bagel and root beer for lunch, and a bagel and a Leinenkugel beer for dinner. Bertha doesn’t have outside tables for coronavirus dining, so she has been tempted to move her restaurant to Appleton. That would be just another on the long list of businesses that have either left town for greener pastures or just gone under.
There aren’t many Fox Hillians left in town either. With a forecast of blistering July heat in the middle of the week, even town folk took the whole week off and headed for their camps along Lake Madsen where it’s just a little bit cooler than the pavement and sidewalks in town. Yes, it does get hot in central Wisconsin. They say we have two seasons: winter, from September to May when it’s not unusual to have consecutive weeks of temperatures below 0 degrees; and a short but brutal summer, June through August, when 90 degree temperatures and 90% humidity will melt the winter fat out your pores like Chippewa Falls.
Clarence Johnson, out at his camp on the lake, cranked up the radio when he heard the song “Hot town, summer in the city,” thinking John Sebastian must have visited Fox Hill when he wrote that. And he pretended that he felt a little bit cooler, even though there was no breeze coming off the lake.
Those left in town weren’t opening their doors or coming out of their homes, and it wasn’t just because they had their air conditioners pumping away or were pretending to “work” from home. Telephones were ringing and text messages flying all around town as the rumor spread that the JWs were canvassing, you know – the Jehovah’s Witnesses, going from house to house, knocking on doors or ringing door bells. Or maybe it was the Mormons? They couldn’t tell them apart, even though they are very different religions. And who would want to open doors to strangers with a worldwide pandemic going on! In any case, the Catholics of Our Lady of Desperate Hope and the German Lutherans of Fox Hill Lutheran Church were in united cooperation of pretending they weren’t home.
But the visitors were never fooled. They could hear the conversations behind closed doors. Mothers would yell at their children, “Don’t open the door!” Kids would ask, “Why not?” Fathers would answer, “Because they are proselytizers.” Kids would say, “What’s that?” Mothers would answer, “They are a threat to our religion.” Kids would say, “But we never even go to church.” Fathers would say, “If we don’t answer, they’ll eventually leave.”
And so it went on. It sure was quiet in Fox Hill. The only sound was the purr of all the air conditioners.
David Martin is now enjoying semi-retirement after his 38 year tenure as the pastor at Fox Hill Lutheran Church. He and his wife, Judy, still live in town, but he tries not to interfere much with the ministry of the new church leader, Vicar Lena, a young (oh, oh) woman (oh, oh) seminary student from New Jersey (oh God!). He fills in for her once a month or when she’s away on vacation, but mostly he lets her make her own mistakes, learning the same way he did from his.
Pastor Martin always wanted someone to come knocking at his door, but in all that time it never happened. It was as if the proselytizers knew the field of Fox Hill wasn’t ripe for the harvest, even though there was a lot of white on the top of the stalks, if you follow my drift. But now, that rumored couple was coming up his sidewalk and about to ring his door bell.
Pastor Martin opened his front door and was surprised to see Al and Jean Swanson standing there. They had stepped about six feet back and they were wearing masks. He remembered when Al and Jean joined Fox Hill Lutheran about four years ago. They were both recently retired and moved to Fox Hill to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city. No one ever told him they had become Jehovah’s Witnesses. He wondered when that had happened.
“Why, Pastor Martin!” said Al, “We didn’t know this is where you and Mrs. Martin lived. Well, I guess we don’t need to share much with you.”
But the pastor was hoping they would stay and talk. He had prepared for this moment for so long. His plan was to first invite them inside and offer to pray together, because Jehovah’s Witnesses aren’t allowed to pray with “heathens.” Pastor Martin remembered his youth in the Wisconsin Synod of the Lutheran Church when he had been taught to never recite the Lord’s Prayer in public because even some who called themselves Lutheran weren’t truly-believing Lutherans. So they would have to explain why they couldn’t pray together and he would be ready for that. Then, using his limited memory of Biblical Hebrew, he would explain how there really was no such word as ‘Jehovah’; that it was a trans-scripted combination of the consonants of the name of God, ‘Yahweh’ in the Hebrew, and the vowel points of the Hebrew word ‘Adonai,’ meaning Lord, written that way as a reminder for faithful Jews not to pronounce the divine name, but read ‘Lord God’ instead. That for sure would shock the Jehovah’s Witnesses. Then he would counter their dark, apocalyptic theology of the sinful world and God’s final destruction with the good news of the love and forgiveness of Jesus and the promise of eternal life to all. That, at least, was his plan.
“Please, come inside. I will pour you a cup of coffee and we’ll talk,” invited Pastor Martin. “Oh, no coffee for us,” said Jean. “That’s right!” thought David, “They probably don’t do caffeine.” “No, It’s too hot for coffee,” Jean continued, “How about some lemonade?”
While Pastor Martin poured three lemonades, Al began his well-rehearsed speech, “As you know, we are going from house to house in Fox Hill…” “Oh, yes,” Pastor Martin interrupted, “Word is getting around that the Jehovah’s Witnesses are in town.”
Al and Jean looked at each other in confusion and nervously chuckled, “Jehovah’s Witnesses? No, we’re from Fox Hill Lutheran. You know that.”
“Then why this door to door thing?” asked the perplexed pastor. “Lutherans don’t do that kind of thing!”
Al then explained, “Vicar Lena shared with our Bible study group the Gospel story of Jesus sending out the seventy in pairs to spread the message of Jesus, and we thought that we could try that right here in Fox Hill. So we even invited Father Jack and his congregation to join us. We were hoping we could get 70 people to come to our training session, but Jean and I were the only ones to show up. But we still wanted to do it, even if by ourselves, because we’ve always been, well, impressed with folks like the Jehovah’s Witnesses and the Mormons who are so convicted about their beliefs and who follow the Biblical example that Jesus himself offered.”
Now Pastor Martin was curious, “But why do that in Fox Hill where everybody is already either Lutheran or Catholic, or those Communal Brethren in the barn outside of town and none of them are going to change?”
“First,” said Al, “It’s not about proselytizing and conversion. It’s about invitation and offering help to meet the needs in our community. We’re really proud of our little church. You established a long-lasting foundation of faithfulness and now Vicar Lena is challenging us with some new ideas and new ways of doing things. It’s really quite exciting to be part of Fox Hill Lutheran Church right now, even when our opportunities to gather for worship together are so limited by the coronavirus pandemic. Vicar Lena described this as being more of a survey to find out what people are looking for from our church and how we can meet their needs and concerns. We were going to call it ‘Together to Gather.’ Pretty clever, isn’t it?”
“And second,” added Jean, “More and more people, even in Fox Hill, don’t have any church connection at all. And we want people to know that Jesus and the people of Fox Hill Lutheran care about them too. But it sure is hard to share the word when no one in town is home.”
“Oh, they’re home,” said Pastor Martin, “But going from home to home, from door to door, doesn’t really fit in the new norm that we have to deal with today in our pandemic world. We have to experiment with new and creative ways of sharing the good news.” Al and Jean considered his words and thought he might just be right about that.
After the Swansons left, the old Pastor thought to himself, “Maybe Lena is right. It’s a different world out there today. We could all learn a lesson, not from the door-knockers and bell-pushers, but from Jesus, to be missionaries of invitation to those who strayed from the path and assistance to those who have lost loved ones or even their jobs. Why, soon we may not be able to get gas in Fox Hill. Even Bertha is thinking of moving her Bagels and Brews out of town.”
Vicar Lena was recording worship on Facebook and YouTube. She was hosting council meetings on Zoom. She was offering prayers and counseling people on Messenger. He could never even dream of doing such things. They never taught him that in seminary! And as the Church continues to reach out to people in need in new ways and demonstrate the love of Jesus to its community, it just may spark a revival; so that when doors are fully open again, more and more will come back, and people can gather together again, and the harvest may be plentiful, and the fire of the Holy Spirit may be rekindled and faith may be reignited.
As David cranked up his air conditioner, he yelled across the room to his wife, Judy, “It seems like things might start to heat up around here!”
And that’s the Good News from Fox Hill, where faith really matters for every single man, woman, and child; oh, and the married ones too. AMEN.
Seventh Sunday after Pentecost – July 7, 2013
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