Brothers and sisters
In today’s Gospel, we hear of the mission of the seventy-two disciples, sent out by the Lord in pairs. They are told to go ahead of Him, into every town and place He Himself intends to visit. This passage is not about dramatic conversions or miraculous events. It is about obedience, preparation, and the quiet courage of carrying out a task that is not ours to complete, but only to begin.
Our Lord sends them out with very little. “Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals.” They are to depend completely on the hospitality of others. That kind of dependence strips a man of control. It makes him vulnerable. But that is precisely where trust in God is formed. We do not learn dependence on God by reading about it. We learn it by living without the usual supports.
This is one of the reasons why monastic life is structured the way it is. We give up many freedoms not to be restricted, but to be made free. By putting down what the world tells us we need, we discover that Christ is enough. The disciples were told to enter a house and say, “Peace to this house.” If the peace is not received, they are not to argue or fight. They are to move on. There is no coercion in the Kingdom of God.
What this teaches us is that we are not responsible for success. We are responsible for faithfulness. The task given to the seventy-two was to prepare the way for the Lord—to heal the sick, to eat what was given, to dwell humbly, and to speak truth. The results were not theirs to measure.
When the disciples return, they are joyful: “Even the demons are subject to us in Your name!” But Jesus does not dwell on their power. He says, “Do not rejoice in this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” The work we do, whether it seems small or unseen, is not wasted. But we are not to ground our identity in accomplishments, not even spiritual ones. Our identity is rooted in the fact that we belong to Christ.
Here, in the silence of the abbey, we are not performing miracles or preaching in the streets. But we are still being sent ahead of Him. Every time we rise in the night to pray, every time we obey the bell, every time we choose humility over comfort, we prepare a place for the Lord to come.
Christ does not need noise to arrive. He does not need a crowd. He only needs willing hearts. The mission He gave to the seventy-two continues in us, in this hidden life of prayer and work. The harvest is still abundant. The labourers are still few. But the Lord of the harvest has not changed.
Let us go on, brothers and sisters, not with anxiety about our effectiveness, but with confidence in the One who sends us. We carry no purse, no bag, no sandals—but we carry His peace.
And, if we remain faithful in the silence, then when He comes to the places we have prepared, He will find them ready.
Amen.