Anonymous Disciples

Now on the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread, when the Passover lamb is sacrificed, Jesus’ disciples said to him, “Where do you want us to prepare for you to eat the Passover?” He sent two of his disciples and told them, “Go into the city, and a man carrying a jar of water will meet you. Follow him. Wherever he enters, tell the owner of the house, ‘The Teacher says, “Where is my guest room where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?”’ He will show you a large room upstairs, furnished and ready. Make preparations for us there.” So the disciples left, went into the city, and found things just as he had told them, and they prepared the Passover.

— Mark 15:12-16

When I first heard this story as a kid, I assumed that Jesus used his Special Jesus Powers to arrange for the upper room. After all, there are lots of ways that an omnipotent Messiah could have pulled it off: he could have informed the man with a water jar of his needs in a dream or a vision or an audible voice from heaven. He could have sent an undercover angel to make arrangements with the man with a water jar. He could have sent an undercover angel to pose as a man with a water jar himself. He could have used his omniscience to identify someone whose Passover plans had fallen through and who therefore had a prepared but unused room.

Quite some time later, I realized there’s a simpler (humanly speaking) possibility: he could have privately talked with one of his followers and simply not told the others. (And there would be good reason to do so: by keeping his plans private, he could ensure uninterrupted time for his final meal with his disciples and friends before his arrest.)

We have this popular image of Jesus traveling with twelve men who later became the twelve apostles: Peter, Andrew, James, John, Phillip, Bartholomew (or Nathanael), Thomas, Matthew, James the son of Alphaeus, Thaddeus, Simon the Zealot, and Judas. A small enough group to memorize without much trouble; short enough to easily list off in a children’s Sunday school class. The full group of Jesus’ followers was much broader than that, though:

• When selecting a replacement for Judas, there were two candidates who met the qualification of having followed Jesus all the way from his baptism to his ascension (Acts 1:21-23); if two otherwise unknown people were present for Jesus’ whole three-year ministry, then it seems likely that several more were present for most or almost all of it.
• Besides the Twelve, Jesus sent seventy-two disciples out to spread the Good News of the Kingdom (Lk 10:1-20).
• Several women, including Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Susanna, traveled with Jesus and financially supported him and the disciples (Lk 8:1-3).
• Five hundred disciples were gathered together at one of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances (1 Cor 15:6).
• Even those who weren’t at all part of the circle of disciples were included by Jesus: “John said to him, “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him because he was not following us.” But Jesus said, “Do not stop him because no one who does a miracle in my name will be able soon afterward to say anything bad about me. For whoever is not against us is for us. For I tell you the truth, whoever gives you a cup of water because you bear Christ’s name will never lose his reward.” (Mk 9:38-41)

This pattern continues into the early church. Thanks to the prolific writings of Luke and Paul, we focus on the heroic missionary efforts of people like Peter, Barnabas, Paul, and Paul’s coworkers and students who he names in his letters. The early church’s missionary activity was much broader than that, though. Stephen Neil writes in A History of Christian Missions (p. 22):

Apart, however, from these special workers, the Church could count on the anonymous and unchronicled witness of all the faithful. Our first mention of this comes in Acts 8:4, where we are told that those who were scattered as a result of the persecution that followed on the death of Stephen went about preaching the word… But these were far from being the only volunteer missionaries. When Paul came to Rome, he was welcomed by believers; how they had got there we are not told… In later times great Churches were much set on claiming apostolic origin - to have an apostle as founder was a recognized certificate of respectability. But in point of fact few, if any, of the great Churches were really founded by apostles. Nothing is more notable than the anonymity of these early missionaries. In the second century there were three outstanding centres of Christian life in the Mediterranean - Antioch, Rome, and Alexandria. Of the foundation of the Church of Antioch we have just recorded all that is known; Luke does not turn aside to mention the name of a single one of those pioneers who laid the foundation. Peter and Paul may have organized the Church in Rome. They certainly did not found it. And of the foundation of the Church of Alexandria we know nothing for certain - neither when nor whence nor by whom.

We see a similar pattern in the Old Testament, too. 1 and 2 Kings devote six chapters to the life of Elijah, detailing one amazing miracle after another as he confronts idolatry and a wicked king, announces a famine, challenges 850 false prophets, calls down fire from heaven, then outraces - on foot! - the king’s chariot while a thunderstorm brews behind him. However, when all of those amazing, powerful, one-man-against-a-kingdom actions seem fruitless, Elijah is crushed: “I alone am left and now they want to take my life.” God encourages him: “I still have left in Israel 7,000 followers who have not bowed their knees to Baal or kissed the images of him.” (1 Ki 19:14,18)

Similarly, during the patriarchal age, we focus on the life of Abraham - and we should, since he received God’s calling and God’s promise to bless the world through him. However, even then, there were other believers in the Lord (because of stories passed down from Noah?). Job was most likely a rough contemporary of Abraham but was not a Hebrew. When Abraham left his home and traveled hundreds of miles to the promised land, he met Melchizedek, “the priest of the Most High God” (Gen 14:18), already living there.

So, what’s the point of these jaunts through history?

It can be easy to think that anyone who we can’t identify as part of our specific tribe or denomination or in-group must not be for us.

It can be easy to forget that giving someone a cup of cold water for Christ’s name may be as great a blessing as working a flashy miracle.

It can be easy to think that the people we hear about most are serving God best and forget about the countless anonymous faithful who also advance the Kingdom.

It can be easy to (consciously or unconsciously) exempt ourselves from the work of faithfully living out the Gospel just because we’re not popular or powerful.

It can be easy to think that things turning out right depends on solely on our individual efforts and forget that there are thousands and millions of fellow believers who have also not bowed their knees to idolatry.

God, thank you for the faithfulness of your people and your church - both the people we know about and those we don’t. We look forward to worshipping with them all in Heaven. Please help us, too, to faithfully serve wherever we are.

Advent 2020

“I’m not sure what to use for Christmas cards this year. It really hasn’t been a very good year.”

So my wife told me yesterday. I figure she’s right. After all, we’ve had an impeachment, near-war in Iran, murder hornets, a massive pandemic, the horrible death of George Floyd and the unrest and racial reckoning that followed, human rights violations in China, apocalyptic wildfires in Australia and California, enough hurricanes to exhaust the alphabet, and a bitterly divisive campaign season and election. After all of that, it seems a little… off to send a card like this:

Hmm. “Adventure” is certainly one way of describing 2020.

And Disney cartoons just aren’t doing much for me right now.

Even more neutral cards can feel off when many people (including my own family) aren’t able to enjoy all of the family-and-friends gatherings that they’re used to.

I definitely get where my wife is coming from.

Coincidentally, while reading the news yesterday, I saw a quote from a Washington Post opinion piece, “Prominent evangelicals are directing Trump’s sinking ship. That feeds doubts about religion,” by Michael Gerson. I should mention at this point that I don’t normally read The Washington Post. I have nothing in particular against it, but they have a perfectly reasonable policy of asking people to pay to read their articles, and I’m a cheapskate. And I’m consciously trying to cut back on my news media consumption, because I don’t think a steady diet of reading about whatever partisan conflict of the day is very good for my peace of mind. But the article piqued my interest, so I read it. I expected more punditry about the latest claims and counterclaims of Trump’s election loss, and that’s how the article started. Then it took a hard right turn, however:

For me, doubt is like staring into an abyss. The triumph of doubt involves a downward spiral of consequences. Without a transcendent moral order, ideas such as good and evil, noble and ignoble, are pegged in mid-air. Yes, it is possible to live honorably in revolt against a meaningless universe. But it is also possible to live dishonorably with the same justification. If raw matter is all that is, ideals such as justice are ultimately rootless…

If Christianity were judged entirely by the quality of Christians, it would be a tough sell — and I include myself in the judgment. Most of us are a jumble of resentments and fears. Most of us can be proud, cruel, foolish and self-deluding.

The best response is found in Advent. The most reassuring message of the season is that the existence of hope does not depend on us. It does not rely on our virtue or wisdom. It is a delivery from elsewhere. The German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer — who knew something of the subject — compared Advent to a prison cell “in which one waits and hopes and does various unessential things… but is completely dependent on the fact that the door of freedom has to be opened from the outside.”

The Advent narratives are filled with waiting people: Mary, Zechariah, Elizabeth, Simeon, Anna. They lived in patient expectation and were receptive to the Good News when it arrived. Their hope did not come as the result of a battle. It came like a seed planted in the ground. Like the sun rising in defiance of night. Like a child growing within his mother.

We are not the heroes of the story. Our contribution is to be watchful and open. But hope arrives in awesome humility. God is with us. Jesus is with us. This is everything.

So, while Christmas cards are reminding me of the darkness in the world, a political column in a secular newspaper is reminding me of the Light.

My whole life, I’ve treated the month of December as one extended Christmas celebration. There are Christmas lights and decorations and carols and Christmas albums and church pageants and topical sermons and workplace get-togethers and vacations to see family and more. And all of that’s great. Many churches, though, go farther: the season of Advent is formally set aside in their calendars in the four weeks to forty days before Christmas “as a time of expectant waiting and preparation for both the celebration of the Nativity of Christ at Christmas and the return of Christ at the Second Coming” (Wikipedia).

In the darkest month of the year, and in the darkness of 2020, we celebrate Jesus, who “shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (Jn 1:5).

We remember that Jesus responded to the world’s darkness by entering into the world, by experiencing all of the pain and suffering that we do, by taking it upon himself, and by triumphing.

We remember God’s fulfillment of his promise to deliver his people by sending Jesus.

Like Mary, Zechariah, Elizabeth, Simeon, and Anna, we wait for God to fulfill his promise and fully deliver us and make all things right.

And, like them, we can rest in the absolute confidence that he will do so.

Further reading: “What is Advent?”