Behold, I am sending you out as lambs in the midst of wolves (v. 3). Behold, I am sending you out as prey among predators; as helpless victims amongst ruthless destroyers; as those symbolised by all that is feeble and defenceless, amongst terrifying and voracious predators.
This instruction of the Lord would seem to be simply crazy: doomed anyway to be very short lived. Yet he said it very deliberately. It applies to all Christians, and for all time. We need to hear it, and dwell on it, and embrace it: for it remains ever timely, and relevant. We can draw consolation from it, and in it find reflected the paradox at the heart of our faith.
Of Jesus himself, we read in the prophet Isaiah: Like a lamb led to the slaughter house, or like a sheep that is dumb before its shearers, so he opened not his mouth (53:7). In the Gospel of John, Jesus is hailed as the Lamb of God (Jn 1:29,35): a lamb who would be slain, defeated, overcome. But Jesus is also the lamb whom John in the Apocalypse equates with the One who sits upon the throne - with God the Father - to whom belong all praise, honour, glory and power for ever and ever (5:13). In John’s vision, innumerable Angels cry out: Worthy is the lamb to receive power and riches and wisdom and strength and glory and blessing (5:12). And again: The Kings of the earth will go out to battle against (the Lamb), but he will defeat them all - he and his followers, the called, the chosen, the faithful - for he is Lord of Lords and King of Kings (cf. 17:14).
I am sending you out, said Jesus, as lambs in the midst of wolves. The supreme witness to Christ, and to the truth of his word, has always been martyrdom. In our day the global persecution of Christians may well be compared to that of the early Church. In many countries in the world, Christians are being discriminated against, driven from their homes and their land, and not seldom killed, simply out of hatred for the faith. Our own country was for many centuries professedly Christian. Now aggressive secularism pushes Christianity ever further to the margins, or beyond. So: a person of faith and conscience pauses briefly outside an abortion clinic to pray silently; only to be dragged away by the Police and condemned as a criminal. A teacher refuses to accept that boys can identify as girls, or girls as boys: and he finds himself dismissed from his job. Our Doctors are now facing the expectation that pain or sickness or depression can appropriately be treated by lethal injection. A perfectly healthy baby, just about to be born, may now legally be torn to pieces by doctors, because its mother has decided that she doesn’t want it, after all.
In our distress at all this we look up at Jesus, and we see him hanging there, on his Cross. Through his Body, through his members still on earth, his agony continues on, to the end of the world. Yet, very remarkably, after 2,000 years, his Church also continues on, and continues, globally, to grow. For our Gospel has its own power, that will vanquish every hostile force. What we proclaim is the truth. Jesus really is from God; he really is Lord; he really has won the victory, and his Kingdom cannot fail. If Jesus seems for now to be powerless, he remains always compellingly attractive. Looking at him, we see pure goodness, compassion, holiness, humility. We watch what he does. He brings healing and life; he feeds, he consoles, he blesses, he raises up. He brings God to us, and he brings us to God. Yes, it’s true that he demands everything: but only in order to give everything. Yes, he demands our service: but only in order to give perfect freedom. Following him is then not mere folly. On the contrary, it guarantees we land up on the winning side.
I wonder if I dare at this point mention another historical religious leader, who adopted a very different strategy? This one also gathered a group of devoted disciples, and sent them on ahead of him. But in this case, he sent them out as wolves among lambs. They went forth on campaigns of military conquest. Their master imposed only one requirement on those who wished not to be slaughtered: unconditional submission. The strategy worked very well. It continues to work quite well. But it is very different from the way of Jesus.
When the 72 disciples first went out, as lambs among wolves, they must have felt a bit apprehensive. Yet, as St. Luke tells us, they came back rejoicing, having experienced complete success. Their power had not been that of the sword, or the gun, but only of the Holy Spirit. Invested with this power, they, and all Christians to follow, were able to do very great things in the name of Jesus. Such great works of faithful Christians can only ever be good: for ourselves and for others; they can only ever tend to the salvation of souls, and joy in heaven, and to the praise of God.
The Jews or Samaritans who first received the Gospel already knew about the need for submission to God, and to his law. But Jesus brought something new. He came to proclaim not in the first place God’s absolute sovereignty, but God’s mercy and love. And he himself was not just a messenger or prophet of God. He himself was the one through whom God’s mercy and love come to us, or are made available to us, or are poured out over us: above all, through his saving blood. His requirement for those who wish to belong to his Kingdom is faith, which cannot be coerced: for faith only exists when given freely.
And so in today’s second reading, the end of St. Paul’s letter to the Galatians, we heard the Apostle’s ecstatic outburst. God forbid, cries Paul, that I should boast except in the Cross of Christ (6:14). Paradox, paradox, paradox. The power of Jesus is made manifest through weakness; he gives life through death, healing through suffering, victory through defeat. Lambs overcome wolves; and wolves become co-heirs with the lambs. The Cross of Jesus stands, always, at the centre of all history: its turning point, its meaning. We are not ashamed of it, or embarrassed by it: for Christ’s Cross is our boast, our glory, our pride, our hope, our power, and our salvation.