Called by Name
— A reflection on Matthew 10:1–7 and the God who chooses the unqualified
Buried in the middle of Matthew's Gospel is something most of us skim: a list of names.
Twelve of them. Some famous, some so obscure we know almost nothing about them. It reads like a roster, the kind of administrative detail you skip to get to the good part.
But slow down and read it the way Matthew wrote it — and the list becomes one of the most hopeful passages in all of Scripture.
A Strange Group to Save the World
"Jesus summoned his Twelve disciples and gave them authority over unclean spirits to drive them out and to cure every disease and every illness."
Then Matthew names them. Fishermen — Peter, Andrew, James, John — men with calloused hands and no formal training. Philip and Bartholomew. Thomas, who would one day doubt. "Matthew the tax collector" — and notice that Matthew, writing his own Gospel, keeps his shameful job title in the list. A tax collector was a collaborator, a man who profited from Rome's occupation of his own people.
And right beside him: "Simon the Cananean" — Simon the Zealot. The zealots wanted Rome overthrown, violently if necessary. In any other room, Matthew and Simon would have been enemies.
And then the last name. "Judas Iscariot, who betrayed Jesus."
This is the group. Not scholars. Not priests. Not the impressive, the credentialed, the qualified. A handful of working men, a collaborator, a revolutionary, a future doubter, and a future traitor.
This is who Jesus summoned to carry the Kingdom of heaven into the world.
He Calls Them by Name
Here is the detail worth sitting with: Matthew records every single name.
In the Gospels, crowds are anonymous. The sick, the fed, the healed — thousands of them pass through unnamed. But when Jesus calls, he calls by name. Simon. Andrew. James. John. Philip.
Fr. Mike Schmitz points out that the choice of twelve is no accident either — the Twelve Apostles echo the twelve tribes of Israel. The kingdom that had been scattered and lost is being re-gathered in Jesus. God is not starting a movement. He is restoring a family. And families know each other by name.
You are not part of a crowd to him. You are not "one of the faithful," a follower, a statistic in the pews. Before you did anything for him — before you were useful, before you were ready — he knew your name. He knows it now.
He Gave Them Authority
Jesus gave His disciples authority — and then he sent them. He did not audition them. He did not wait for Peter to become stable, for Thomas to resolve his doubts, for Matthew to live down his past. The authority came with the call, not after the résumé.
Preaching on this very passage, Fr. Mike Schmitz puts it simply: when Jesus sends out his apostles in his name, he also gives them precisely the strength and ability they are going to need. Precisely. Not a surplus you can bank for next year's worries. Not so little that the mission fails. Exactly enough, arriving exactly when the mission requires it.
This is the quiet answer to the question that keeps so many of us up at night: Am I enough for what is being asked of me?
No. And that was never the plan. He is enough — and he equips the called.
He Is Still Calling the Unlikely
If you think this pattern retired with the apostles, consider a story from our own city.
Fr. Anthony Saroki was a business litigation attorney at a large San Diego firm — Georgetown, Berkeley Law, a successful career underway. And then, as he tells it, God made it clear he had another vocation in mind. He left the firm for the seminary and has spent two decades as a priest, reminding anxious congregations: "Do not be afraid. Our refuge is in the Lord."
A tax collector left his booth. An attorney left his firm. The call of Matthew 10 is not a historical artifact. It is a standing pattern — Jesus walking into ordinary, complicated, mid-stride lives and saying: you. Come.
And Judas Was on the List
One more thing, because Matthew refuses to hide it.
"Judas Iscariot, who betrayed Jesus."
Jesus called him too. By name. Gave him the same authority, sent him on the same mission, washed his feet at the same table. Jesus did not call only the ones who would finish well.
This is both a comfort and a summons. A comfort, because it means the call does not depend on your guarantee of future perfection — he calls you knowing everything, the way he knew Peter would deny him and called him anyway. A summons, because being called is grace, but remaining is a choice we make daily, one surrender at a time.
The list has room for the flawed. It always did.
A Gentle Invitation
So before this day gets loud, sit with the list for a moment — and put your own name in it.
Where have you been telling God he called the wrong person — too unqualified, too compromised, too far behind? What "altar" has your abundance quietly built — the success, the image, the competence that has slowly taken his place? And what would it mean, today, to break up a new field — to stop performing in the old one and simply seek his face?
If you are carrying the ache of feeling overlooked or unequipped, you might pray slowly, in the spirit of the Surrender Novena:
Jesus, you know my name, and you know everything behind it — and you call me anyway. I stop waiting to be qualified. I break up a new field. Give me today precisely the strength I need, and nothing I must carry alone. You take care of everything. Amen.
He did not summon the Twelve because they were ready.
He summoned them because he was.
And somewhere in that list of fishermen and failures, if you listen closely, you will hear him say your name.
Hosea 10:1–3, 7–8, 12 · Psalm 105:2–7 · Matthew 10:1–7 (RSV-2CE / Great Adventure Bible)