40“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. 41 Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous, 42 and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”
Matthew 10:40-42 (NRSVUE)
I am writing with a view of the Stone Arch Bridge across the Mississippi River in downtown Minneapolis. This place is also called Owámniyomni, a Dakota name that means “turbulent waters.” The life-giving water and ceremonial sanctity of the falls here feature prominently in Dakota and Anishinaabe tradition and practice. Just as striking, as I reflect on Owámniyomni, is the absolute lack of moral imagination practiced by Europeans when they encountered the region’s original ecosystem and its inhabitants. Matthew 10:40-42 speaks directly to the theme of imagining the lives of others and entering into relationship with them.
A little digging into the ancient Greek text of Matthew 10:40-42, translated above as “in the name of” (“εις το όνομα”), reveals some meaning that has been lost. This is a Greek phrase that elsewhere is associated with baptism, and it is used twice in verse 41. Although “εις” is typically translated as “in” in English, it carries the lexical meaning “into.” What does it mean to “welcome a prophet into the name of a prophet?”
We can think of these words as an invitation to engage in moral imagination. The good hosts in these verses are not called to welcome a prophet because they are a prophet (what we might call performative or pro forma hospitality, following a strict protocol according to ascribed rank). Rather, the good hosts are invited to imagine the lived reality of the prophet or the righteous and enter into their world.
Similarly, when welcoming “one of these little ones” the good host is not one who provides rote words of hospitality, but enters into the life world of the guest and offers an embodied need – a cup of cold water. Verse 42 states that recognizing the marginalized as messengers about the kingdom and providing them with basic human needs is as significant as providing extravagant hospitality to Jesus and to the Father. In keeping with first century CE Jewish thought, a prophet’s reward or the reward of the righteous is not a prize that will be received in the afterlife, but the present and future inheritance of being enrolled in the beloved community who are bringing God’s kin()dom to life.
Unfortunately, human beings, especially people of deep conviction, have a history of doing a remarkably bad job of entering reverently and with curiosity into the life world of other human beings, let alone prophets or other embodied manifestations of the sacred. How else would it be possible for Europeans and settlers to commit genocide and attempt to erase the Dakota and Anishinaabe from their spiritual home?
Owámniyomni was a place of worship, reverence, legend, and tradition. Native women traveled to Spirit Island, a sanctuary space at the base of the falls, to give birth. In 1680, a European Catholic friar, Louis Hennepin, traveling in the company of Dakota (by his account “captured”) saw the falls and renamed them for his patron saint, Anthony of Padua. Although European settlers in the land that became the United States received hospitality and instruction in the basics of survival from the Dakota, Anishinaabe, and other Native American nations, they (which here means “my people”) did not return the favor.
Far from honoring the majesty and beauty of the Mississippi River falls, let alone the sacred and medicinal arts practiced on Spirit Island, the logic of European expansion was to reject any spiritual relationship with the watershed. Dishonoring the Dakota and Anishinaabe prophets who honored the river was part of the desecration of Owámniyomni. The thrust of European control was to harness hydropower, turning the banks of the river into a site of industrial sprawl and eventually the gentrified urban lofts, where I now live.
In the most bitter of ironies, during Metro Surge, the ICE occupation of the Twin Cities, Native Americans were among those targeted as non-white aliens. ICE arrested about 100 people per day in January 2026. These detainees were held precisely where Dakota and Anishinaabe people were held during the US-Dakota War of 1862 before they were executed or forcibly removed from their homeland. It is not a surprise, then, that leaders in these communities led Minnesota’s opposition to ICE. As Nicole Matthews, CEO at the Minnesota Indian Women’s Sexual Assault Coalition, said, “Resistance is not a new concept for us. There’s a lot of connections to the historical trauma that many of us have in our DNA and I think that’s even more a reason why it’s so important to keep our ceremonies and to stay in prayer. It’s part of turning to that core piece of who we are.”
Do the followers of Jesus know the core piece of who they are? Identity formation is a key feature of the Mission Discourse, which is sometimes called “The Little Commission” because it is directed specifically at Jesus’ disciples (students) who are about to become his apostles (messengers). Matthew’s Jesus offers compelling words about the nature and consequence of the welcome that his followers might receive for their ministry.
In the verses preceding the lectionary selection, Jesus has been telling his rapt listeners that they will be persecuted and tortured and betrayed for healing people and preaching the good news that the kingdom of God is coming near. Jesus tells his about-to-be apostles that their ministry will be divisive and they can expect physical and legal threats for spreading his countercultural message and healing those desperate for release from the conditions of their lives. In the lectionary selection, Jesus narrates the work of anonymous, prospective hosts, describing them as engaging in acts of moral imagination that require courage, sacrifice, and empathy as they provide hospitality to both prophets and marginalized people.
The bad news in this lectionary reading is that moral imagination is not a foregone conclusion in human affairs. The good news is that the message of Jesus is an invitation to offer a welcome that may be as simple and as life-giving as a cup of water. Or more courage may be required. Moral imagination requires entering into the other’s world. Genuine hospitality, following the Gospel instruction, may well mean abandoning the world one has known in order to enter into the kin()dom.
During Operation Metro Surge, one of the songs that we sang, by Alexandra Blakely, had these lyrics:
Providing an embodied welcome to righteous persons, ordinary people, and immigrants may mean carrying whistles, standing guard at schools, ferrying loads of laundry, caring for abandoned animals, searching for detainees released into the woods without adequate clothing or a way home. Minnesotans, who sing in church choirs and know how to protect each other from hypothermia, sing now to armed federal agents, calling them back into the warmth of community, acting as if the agents of Empire have ears to hear a different message. Resisting ICE can mean following Native leaders who have been resisting the desecration of the land, the water, and their lives for a long time.
Today the Stone Arch bridge that spans the Mississippi features plaques describing a Dakota-led restoration project that is designed to heal the water, the land, and the bluff around Owámniyomni. The ecosystem and the geography cannot be returned to their condition prior to colonization. Even so, it has taken the courage of local prophets to resist the claim that settler expansion will have the last word. The project stands as a sign that it is possible to live into a kin()dom that acknowledges catastrophic loss and celebrates the sacred water of Owámniyomni. Perhaps crossing the bridge with an embodied awareness of the costs and joys of shared life can be the reward enjoyed by those who practice the moral imagination enjoined in Matthew 10:40-42.
