And he called unto him the twelve, and began to send them forth by two and two; and gave them power over unclean spirits; And commanded them that they should take nothing for their journey, save a staff only; no scrip, no bread, no money in their purse:But be shod with sandals; and not put on two coats. - Mark 6.7-9, KJV.
We leave tomorrow at 6:30. I'm packed and ready to go. The airline allows one carry-on and one "personal item" per passenger. (I've always wondered what an "impersonal item" would be.) The School of Christian Studies has also generously popped for the $25 fee that allows each of us one checked bag.
Since we're sleeping in a church rec hall or something, they told us to bring our own bedding, hence the need to check one suitcase. Mine sits on the floor a few feet from me as I write. A rough inventory runs as follows:
One sleeping bag (Camo, which I think is really cool.)
One pillow (Well, not yet; I'll need it tonight.)
Shorts: six pair
T-shirts: four
Polo shirts: two
Jeans: one pair
Pajamas (Well, some sweat pants and an extra T-shirt)
Cell phone charger
I also have a backpack for the plane. It will hold a minimum of six books. I consider this downright mendicant.
Now, I don't guess that's a lot of stuff, but it sure expands on Our Lord's basic inventory for a short-term mission trip. Two coats? I have six changes of raiment. As for no bread or money, our meals are all arranged in advance and you can bet I'll have my credit card in my pocket. Granted, I'm not taking a staff, but I don't get any points there because Homeland Security regulations wouldn't permit it anyway.
So what gives? I mean, contextually Jesus is giving orders for a short-term mission trip. I've heard people (people who intend to stay safe at home, mind you) criticize career missionaries for not conforming to Jesus' inventory here, but that's just bad hermeneutics. He wasn't telling the disciples to adopt this aerodynamic bill of lading as a lifestyle; just long enough to do a Galilean tour. But what about me: one week on the road fits nicely into the context of the passage.
I must admit, it sounds alluring and romantic to think of boarding the plane with nothing but a backpack, going the Franciscan route. Maybe I could limit clothing to the Mother Teresa rule: She allowed her nuns three habits, "one for wearing, one for washing, and one for praying." I could skip the bedding and sleep on the floor every night, another thing Mother Teresa did all her life. But then I think about having to wash clothes in a bathroom sink every night, about my aching bones shivering on no-pile industrial-grade carpeting, about being an olfactory expense to everyone around me, and I cave.
Bottom line: I don't think I'll lose my salvation over a few pair of boxers, but I must admit that I don't seem to believe Jesus really knows what he's talking about. On the plus side of the ledger, I am meeting the protocol for footwear: I'm taking only one pair of sandals. Actually, a pair of Crocks, but I think, adjusting for culture, that still counts.
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