Sermon for the Holy Communion

Rev. Misa Furumoto

Two weeks ago, we entered what is known as the Green Season in the Church calendar. The liturgical color green symbolizes life, growth, and—very importantly—peace. Especially this year, as we mark the 80th anniversary of the end of the Pacific War and World War II, I believe it’s essential for us to reflect again on what the peace of Christ truly means.

Today, we often hear phrases like “peace through strength” in political discourse. What do you think of this idea? I know there are various opinions, and it may not always be wise for a preacher to offer personal political views from the pulpit.
But I feel compelled to point out that “peace through strength” often implies that peace is sustained by military power—and this easily slips into “peace through war.” What would Jesus say about such an idea?

Before we dive into today’s Gospel, let us briefly recall last week’s passage. Although we didn’t have an English service last Sunday, the reading began just two paragraphs before today’s text, with this pivotal sentence:

“When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.”

This marks a critical turning point in Luke’s Gospel. Jesus begins his final journey toward Jerusalem—a journey toward the cross. Between Galilee and Jerusalem lay the region of Samaria. As you may know, Samaritans and Jews had been estranged for centuries due to religious and political hostility. They saw each other as enemies.

Jesus could have avoided this region—but he chose to go through it, deliberately. Why? Because the good news was for the Samaritans too. Yet, when the Samaritans saw that Jesus was a Jew heading to Jerusalem, they rejected him.

In response, James and John became angry and asked,

“Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?”

This dramatic suggestion recalls an Old Testament story in which the prophet Elijah calls down fire on soldiers from Samaria. James and John likely knew this story well. In those times, divine punishment was often seen as justifiable.
But Jesus rebuked them. This tells us something essential:

God is no longer the furious judge who destroys enemies—God is revealed in Jesus as love.

This theme continues directly into today’s Gospel passage.

Jesus appoints seventy followers and sends them out two by two to every town and place he himself intended to go. Their mission was to visit homes and proclaim the nearness of God’s kingdom.

Luke doesn’t specify which towns they were sent to. Perhaps some were Gentile towns like Samaria. Even among Jews, many people would have found Jesus’ teachings suspicious or even offensive. So naturally, many would reject these messengers—perhaps even insult them or throw stones.

Jesus prepares them for this. He says: “I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves.” It sounds like a threat, but Jesus isn’t trying to scare them—he’s being honest. The mission is not easy. Still, he gives them a crucial instruction:

“Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house.’”

Not a long introduction. Not an argument. Just a blessing: “Peace.”

When we speak with others—especially in times of disagreement—how often do we rush to make our point? How often do we demand to be heard? Jesus tells us: Don’t begin with pressure. Begin with peace.

And then he says:

“If anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; if not, it will return to you.”

That’s such a comforting image. Even if your peace is rejected—even if they mock you or shut the door—it doesn’t disappear. It returns to you. It is not wasted.

Every person on this earth is a child of God. Whether they accept us or not, we are still siblings. So why not be the one to wish peace first? Your peace may not always be received, but it is never lost. It will either rest on someone, return to you, or be passed on—by God—to someone in need.

Let us remember always: God loved us first. And just as God was the first to love us, we are called to be the first to love others. This is the true way to proclaim the kingdom of God—not through might or domination, but through peace, patience, and love.

May we be the ones who carry that peace into every house, every encounter, and every corner of this broken world.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.