The Feast of St. Luke October 18, 2015
Luther Memorial Church Seattle, WA
The Rev. Julie G. Hutson
Isaiah 35: 5-8 + Psalm 124 + 2 Timothy 4: 5-11
Luke 1: 1-4, 24: 44-53
Grace and peace to you from God who creates us, Jesus who saves us, and the Holy Spirit, who brings us comfort and healing. Amen.
We are on a roll of feast days and commemorations in the life of the church. I know that some of you think that today is the feast day of St. Seahawk, but in actuality, it is the day we remember and give thanks for the life of St. Luke. Luke was the writer of one of the Gospels, one of the accounts of the life of Jesus. He is long thought of as a physician, because in the book of Colossians he is referred to as such. His symbol is an ox with wings, as you see on the front of your bulletin.
Many faith communities offer special prayers for healing on St. Luke’s day, and we will do the same today. Following this sermon there will be a time for individual prayers for healing and anointing and following those, there will be communal prayers for healing.
The problem with praying for healing is that we confuse being healed with being cured. And while we can be cured of many things….pneumonia or kidney stones…there are other places in our lives that call for healing. Prejudice calls for healing. Fear calls for healing. Broken hearts long for healing as do broken relationships.
Sometimes when we pray for healing, what we are really praying for is a cure. And sometimes when we pray for a cure, what we receive is healing that comes in surprising ways.
A few weeks ago, I was asked to preach in the town where I served my first call. I was already in Ohio for a seminary continuing education event, and the request was that I preach to two congregations in this small town an hour north of Columbus as they were considering merging into one congregation. The vote would be two weeks after I was there. As sometimes happens, the assigned readings for the day were perfect words for those folks to hear from Scripture. They were all about how the Gospel is often made known through unexpected people and in unexpected circumstances. I shared with them a story from our congregation. It was the story of Robbie Riser, who I still expect to hear shout an Amen from the back pew/lectern side of this place.
So, as I’d been thinking about healing and cures and St. Luke’s Day, I was reminded of a remarkable young story from that Ohio congregation where I was first called to serve as pastor. With permission, I share it with you this morning.
Gage is a bright eyed boy of eleven years old. His grandmother Carol, and Carol’s partner of twenty plus years, Darlene, are pillars of the church in this small conservative Ohio town. They are also among the most faithful and courageous people I know. Gage has a form of autism, complicated by ADHD. It’s hard for him to stay focused on anything for more than a very brief time. Books or toys or cartoons have never held his attention for long. His teachers have always had to closely monitor where he is as he tends to dash away at a moment’s notice. He goes to school with a full time aide.
When he was merely a toddler, Carol and Darlene started bringing Gage to church. There was no sitting in the back – these wise women started off sitting with him right up front, that way he could see and hear everything that was going on.
And Gage does hear everything. He listens to the sermons! He asks questions about them, later. When I spoke of Robbie carrying in the light for the Advent procession….Gage was concerned afterward that our congregation wouldn’t have anyone to carry in the Advent light this year.
But here’s the thing that is the most astonishing about Gage and worship – it isn’t that he follows along, or stays put….it’s that he knows every word of the liturgy by heart. He participates easily and well and has learned these ancient words and keeps them in the deepest places of his sweet spirit.
On the Sunday that I was there, though, he added something new. When their pastor sang the Communion liturgy, Gage sang along from his pew. Not just the congregational responses, either…Gage sang the parts normally reserved for the pastor alone.
It was among the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard.
You see, Gage and his parents and grandparents and teachers and friends will always have to contend with the challenges of his diagnosis. They might never have a “cure.” But healing has come for Gage in a place where he is captured by the words of the liturgy….words that come straight from Scripture. Healing has come for Gage in a place where his spirit….where his very being… finds some respite from the distractions of the other days.
The words from the prophet Isaiah in the first reading today paint a picture of a place where God’s healing has reached not only the people on the earth, but the very earth itself. “Then the eyes of the blind will be opened, the ears of the deaf will be unsealed. Then those who cannot walk will leap like deer and the tongues of those who cannot speak will sing for joy. Waters will break forth in the wilderness and there will be streams in the desert. The scorched earth will become a lake; the parched land, springs of water.” [1]
We are the only ones who know what healing it is that we long for. Healing for envy that eats away at us. Healing for guilt that has been our companion for too long. Healing for the grudge we carry with us at all times. Or perhaps the healing we long for is more physical in nature – healing for our bodies that are slowing down or wearing out. Healing for our own ability to hear or see or remember. Healing for our own inability to love our bodies in the midst of the many changes.
If we could borrow Isaiah’s template, what would it sound like to to re-imagine those verses? Then the envy would be turned to joy for another, the guilt to freedom, and the grudge would fly away like a goose in the autumn. Those who cannot remember would rest in the present day and those whose feet are slow would come to love the new pace.
When Luke wrote his Gospel, he uses the formulaic beginning to the book, dedicating it to “noble Theophilus.” Of course, the interesting thing is that we know nothing of this Theophilus. But we know what the name means….Theo = God; philus = love of a friend. So, Theophilus is a God lover. Perhaps, then, we can imagine that Luke wrote his Gospel, and his account of the early church, which we know as the book of Acts, to God lovers everywhere…..including those who have gathered here this morning….and Gage who I am sure was in worship today with his faithful grandmama’s…and Robbie who brought us the light of the Gospel when we least expected it. And those two congregations, who did in fact vote to merge. Luke wanted us to know what had happened in the life of Jesus of Nazareth. Because although he may have been a physician, he also knew that there was a difference between a cure…..and Scripture tells us that Jesus cured many people in the course of his ministry… and healing. Luke also knew that healing reaches into places that we think we’ve kept carefully hidden away. Places we are afraid to open up to one another about because we think we are the only ones.
Beloved of God, friends in Christ, healing is ours through the life and death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. Healing is ours through the heart and love and teaching of that same Jesus. Our hope echoes in the words of the Psalmist: Our help is in the name of God, who made heaven and earth. That same God re-makes our hearts and spirits every day, and we are healed.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
[1] Isaiah 35: 5-7a