Gospel: Matthew 28:16-20
They were gathered on that Galilean mountain, there with Jesus: the 11 remaining disciples (Judas having already died) and perhaps others who’d followed them during the past three years. Aside from the disciples though no others are specifically identified. Considering the many who’d tagged along to witness the highs and the lows of Jesus’ life and ministry – the moments when lives had been rebuilt and renewed and the moment his own life had ended – I think there were a handful (or more) there on the mountain, still looking for something else. Something more.
Whoever was there was worshiping him, which was to be expected – but in an unexpected twist, they were also doubting. If we’re to operate based solely on what we find in this chapter of Matthew, what we see in the final scene of this Gospel is the first time they’d been with their friend and teacher since his resurrection. The disciples had heard from the two Marys that he’d been raised, but they’d not seen him for themselves. They’d also heard they were to come to this place in Galilee where, they were promised, they would see him.
Now, they were with him, but their minds were still filled with doubt. Why? I’ll offer two possibilities to consider. First, they doubted what their eyes were so clearly seeing: someone who’d been crucified, died, and buried now standing with and talking to them. Second, as suggested by Craig Evans, perhaps “they had doubts as to what purpose the mission of Jesus now had, and what purpose they as disciples now had.”[1] Despite the joy of that moment of reunion, the first part of his earthly ministry had come to an inconceivable end. Even though he was most obviously alive and breathing and with them once again, perhaps there were questions about what a renewal of that ministry would look like.
There’s something about this mountaintop scene from Matthew that reminds me of the ending of the 1972 Robert Redford film “The Candidate.” Redford plays the son of a popular former California governor recruited to run for Senate against the three-term incumbent. Never expected to be more than token opposition, Redford’s character not only wins his party’s nomination, but he surprisingly defeats the incumbent in the general election. In the closing scene he asks his campaign manager, “What do we do now?” but never receives an answer.
In Matthew the disciples seem to be acting out a similar scene, their doubts reflecting that question, “What do we do now?” They however receive an answer, what we know as The Great Commission. The ministry begun by Jesus will continue, but it’s now the disciples who will be responsible for carrying it further. Their instructions are clear: go; baptize; teach. The complete verse as we’ve heard it is longer, but at its heart are those three imperatives. We must remember as well that the most important part of what Jesus has commissioned them to do isn’t the going; it’s what comes after – the baptizing and teaching.
This isn’t a first for Jesus; smaller moments of commissioning were offered throughout Matthew. He tells his followers for instance to go and reconcile with one another before going to the altar with their gifts.[2] Listeners are told to go and sell their possessions, giving the proceeds to the poor.[3] When discussing prayer, there’s instruction to go to into their rooms, close the door, and only then pray to God.[4] Going isn’t the point of those commissions, though; that action is simply the way Jesus’ followers are to enter the process to achieving what’s truly important, what really matters: reconciliation; care; prayer. Here, the goal of the commission is to challenge his disciples to make disciples.
Each week we come here for worship, fellowship, and education. We offer prayers; we lift our voices in song; we gather at God’s table for the Eucharist. But we can’t stay here forever, nor should we. You’ll recall our services end with a deacon or priest offering words of dismissal that reflect that reality: “Go forth in the name of Christ;” “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord;” “Go forth into the world, rejoicing in the power of the Spirit.”[5] As with the moment of commissioning from Jesus, it’s not the going that fulfills the requests made of us. No, it’s reflecting Christ; it’s peacefully loving and serving; it’s rejoicing.
I recognize that fulfilling our obligations as disciples to follow God’s commissions to us often leads to frozen moments of doubt. There are times when, like Redford’s character, we ask, “What do we do now?” As with the difficult and challenging areas and times into which the first disciples stepped, the places and moments into which we’re called to love and serve may be quite difficult and the exact opposite of what we want. The call to love and serve in places of conflict or division. The call to love and serve among those struggling with illness, addiction, or hunger. The call to love and serve those who on the surface give us no reason at all to want to help them but on the inside carry the spark and spirit of God. The call to walk with those we may frankly not like but, because of the commission, must love and serve.
Unlike Redford’s character in “The Candidate,” we – like the disciples on that Galilean mountain – receive an answer to the question, “What do we do now?” It’s not so much an answer as a promise, one Jesus makes to be with us always. It doesn’t tell us what to do or how to do things; it doesn’t offer the secret of how exactly to cope with the fraught situations in which we may find ourselves trying to live as faithful disciples. What it does give us, to borrow from the title of a collection of sermons by the late Peter Gomes, is strength for the journey.
Even as we struggle to honor our commissions to love and serve, to reflect Christ, and to rejoice, Jesus is with us. He strengthens us. He sustains us. And if we’ll get out of the way to allow space for clear discernment, we’ll discover what to do – and with the strength of Christ we’ll do it even to the end of the age.
Amen.
[1] Craig A. Evans. Matthew, p. 483.
[2] Matthew 5:24.
[3] Matthew 19:21.
[4] Matthew 6:6.
[5] Book of Common Prayer, p. 366.