Brief synopsis of the readings: We read from the last chapter of the book of Isaiah about the “vindication of Zion.” The reader is instructed to “[R]ejoice with Jerusalem, and be glad for her.” God then promises to “send flowing peace, like a river.” Luke’s Gospel continues last week’s reading: Jesus appointed seventy two disciples to travel in advance of him. He gave them strict instructions that they were not to carry provisions, that they were to ask for lodging, and accept whatever hospitality is offered. In the longer version of the Gospel the disciples returned rejoicing that they were successful beyond their hopes. Jesus then admonished them not to rejoice in their power but instead rejoice that their names are written in heaven.

For our entire history as disciples of Jesus we have been a faith that yearns for the horizon. From Jesus’ call after his resurrection to “go to all nations” to missionary work in our own day, we have answered the call to carry the good news of salvation everywhere we go.

As I spoke about last week, Jesus and his disciples are journeying toward Jerusalem for the last time and it appeared that the disciples still weren’t getting it. And yet here everything falls into place, with seemingly little preparation.

I find it significant that Jesus starts them off with a warning that he is sending them out “like lambs among wolves” and virtually without provisions. No purse, no haversack, no sandals (!).

And 2,000 years later I don’t think we’re called to the same thing, but I have to admit to some amusement at seeing how we provision our trips. Modern safaris normally include so much gear that we are forced to hire people to carry our stuff (Americans of my generation remember the late comedian George Carlin doing an entire routine called “a place for my stuff”). And here in the United States the RV (recreational vehicle) industry convinces us we need a camper big enough to block out the sun.

And in fairness the idea of travel back then was different, and certainly more frightening (as we will see next week with the parable of the Good Samaritan). But here we see the upside of travel: meeting new people, learning new traditions, and having new experiences. The jubilation the disciples reported was not only that they found people who were open to their evangelization but that they broadened and enriched their lives through those meetings.

I know I’m stretching things a little, and that the Gospel doesn’t explicitly state that the disciples deepened their lives, but it’s an inevitable part of travel.

Truthfully I spent the week looking at this reading and recognizing that I cannot read this apart from the global immigration situation where we find ourselves.

Because while we have always been a people fascinated with the horizon, this hasn’t been a universal experience. We’ve always had among us those who fear those we don’t know, and it even has a name: xenophobia (fear of the stranger).

I write this in the shadow of “Brexit,” the decision by 52% of the voters in Great Britain to leave the European Union. Immigration and the fear that they would be overrun by refugees informed much of the vote. Here in the United States a major candidate for President promises to build a wall between us and Mexico.

So who’s right here? I’ve spoken countless times that our choices need to be informed by our moral compass and not by our own selfish benefit. In the days leading up to the vote in Great Britain I heard an interview with a man who lived in England for most of his life. He retired to Spain where his pension could give him a higher standard of living, and because both England and Spain were members of the European Union, he would receive additional benefits (candidly my memory fails me on the details). He explained that he was planning to vote for Britain to remain in the EU because it works out better for him. But, he admitted, if he still lived in Britain he would vote to leave because he thinks it’s too easy for foreigners to come to Britain and threaten his way of life.

Now please understand, I’m not saying how Christians should vote on this issue and his faith was not discussed in the story. But I am deeply troubled that his vote on this issue would change depending on where he lived. A true moral compass certainly has room for “how this affects me” but it cannot ignore how it affects others, particularly the poor and marginalized. In 1968 Jesuit Superior General Pedro Arrupe (1907-1991) coined the phrase “preferential option for the poor.” He wrote that when called to make a choice, we need to explore how it will affect the poor. I define it this way: having the ability to choose means that we have a certain amount of power, and it calls us to advocate on behalf of those who don’t.

Preferential option for the poor speaks to the simple truth that all of us should have enough of the things we need, but I think it also speaks to something deeper. Those who we advocate for have something to teach us and we live our best lives when we reach beyond our comfort zone and interact with strangers.

Many years ago I met a man who worshipped at a wealthy Catholic church outside Boston. He told me that years before Mother Theresa (1910-1997) spoke at his parish. He was so moved by her words that he came up and attempted to give her $100 to help the poor. She refused and told him that he should find someone who was in need. We both got a chuckle at the image of him with a $100 bill in his hand and command from Mother Theresa. But her genius was this: the poor person would benefit from the $100 that he would never miss, but both of them would benefit from the encounter.

It’s becoming fashionable these days to see strangers as “someone who will take something from me,” whether it’s money or opportunity or “our way of life.” But today’s Gospel tells us that the jubilation experienced by the 72 resulted directly from their encounter.

I hope I’m not walking too far into the weeds of the theology of the Trinity, but generations of Christians wrestled with the role of the Holy Spirit. Our ancestors spent centuries arguing the finer points but in 1274 the Catholic Church declared that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son: The Spirit comes to us from between the Father and Son, and continues to occupy the space between us today.

But if we take this to heart, the Holy Spirit exists only when we encounter each other and never when we isolate ourselves out of fear or prejudice.

The returning 72 celebrated their experience only because they moved outside their comfort zones, encountered people they didn’t know, and allowed room for the Holy Spirit.