Feast of St Luke 2020

 

Lectionary readings: 2 Timothy 4:5-17 and Luke 10:1-9

This Sunday we are marking the Feast of St Luke. Luke was a travel-companion of the apostle Paul, and his own lasting gift to the Church was his biography of Jesus (the Gospel According to Luke) and biography of the early Church (the Acts of the Apostles). The book of Acts (chapters 13-28) gives us a record, or timeline, of Paul’s missionary journeys, into which Paul’s own letters to churches and personal friends might be dropped. There are three sections of Acts where Luke the biographer switches from third person narration (he, they) to first person narration (we), indicating that he was one of Paul’s travel-companions at these three times; and all three (Acts 16; 20, 21; 27, 28) relate specifically to times when Paul was travelling by sea.

In our first reading we hear an extract from Paul’s second letter to Timothy. Timothy was another of Paul’s travel-companions, co-workers, and co-author of several letters to churches. Paul appears to have met Timothy at around about the same time as he met Luke. But at the point where Paul is writing these words, he is in Rome, wrestling with a sense of coming to the end of his life; and Timothy is in Ephesus, where he is Paul’s successor as overseer of the church; and Paul longs to see Timothy one last time. Do your best to come to me, he writes. Of all my companions and partners in mission, only Luke is with me now.

I am struck by this great man, this pioneer who has carried the gospel all around the eastern Mediterranean, planting churches, mentoring leaders of churches, overseeing a growing network of partnership in the gospel. At the end, he is essentially alone; even speaks of having been deserted; his experience mirroring that of Jesus, abandoned and betrayed and denied. And yet, like Jesus, he does not come across as bitter or resentful. His former companions have scattered, sent out, moving the unfolding story on, like those sent out by Jesus in Luke chapter 10. True, Paul describes Demas as being in love with this present world; but the context is that Paul has largely come to terms with his own imminent death, and in this context, I think Paul is implying that Demas still feels that there is more for him to do before his own end: yes, Paul feels deserted, and I don’t want to dismiss that pain, but Demas has gone to one of the churches they planted, to look for Jesus among the living rather than the dead, to borrow a phrase; he hasn’t abandoned the faith. Likewise, Crescens has gone, possibly to the Galatian churches, possibly carrying the gospel further west than Paul had gone, to Gaul (geographically, opposite ends of the Mediterranean, but connected ethnically by migration). Titus, also, is carrying the gospel onwards, west, last spotted (sorry) in Dalmatia. Only Luke is with Paul, for now. Paul longs for Timothy to join them, and to bring with him Mark, who at an earlier time had deserted Paul and been the cause of the great dividing of the ways between Paul and his first closest colleague, Barnabas. At some point in the intervening years, Paul and Mark have been reconciled, and found a way to work together again. Bring him with you, Timothy. (Mark does, indeed, end up in Rome, where he will write down the memoir of the apostle Peter, also on trial and soon to be executed; the result being the Gospel According to Mark.) Do not worry about leaving the church in Ephesus, Timothy; I am sending Tychicus to fill in for you while you are away. First, though, head north to Troas, and reclaim the cloak I left with Carpus, and my books and parchments.

And then, Paul mentions Alexander, the one person in this list who has truly harmed him; but even here, Paul leaves Alexander’s fate in God’s hands. Beware him, Timothy, steer clear; do not seek to avenge me.

I am struck by Paul, who has faithfully followed Jesus from Jerusalem to Rome, in life and soon enough now in death, in companionship and disciple-making and desertion. Paul, aware of the presence of Jesus, who has been through it all before him, standing by him and giving him strength, to face his own suffering and to forgive those who were not brave enough to face it with him. Paul, aware that Jesus will rescue him in this life to the very end, and then rescue him in death so that though he will die, he will not perish.

But this occasion is the Feast of St Luke, and I am struck that Luke is there with Paul. Traditionally, the Church has identified Luke as a physician. Personally, I believe that to be a case of mistaken identity, a conflation of Luke the biographer and another Luke, the physician. Regardless, I am sure that Luke being there with Paul was healing for him; that Luke ministered to him, both in body and soul. But I also think that it is far more likely, based on the depth of expert knowledge Luke brings to his accounts of Paul’s sea journeys, that Luke was an experienced merchant sailor. That he was an expert guide on those transitions between one destination and another, a broker who advised Paul on ships and captains, and who on occasion gave better advice than the captain was willing to take. And I am struck that it is Luke who remains with Paul as he contemplates his next and last journey, to another shore. No doubt recording Paul’s biography, that would in time make up so much of the Acts of the Apostles, but, also, perhaps, helping Paul put his estate in order. We need to get Timothy here now, before it is too late. We need to cement the reconciliation with Mark, so that he knows he has your approval. We need to gather the few possessions that really matter, and determine who to leave them to.

This year has been marked by journeys into the unknown. As well as our own personal and communal raw grief at the death of loved ones, we are buffeted by extended uncertainty and constantly and rapidly changing rules. We were made aware of the crisis-conditions facing frontline NHS workers earlier in the year; conditions that may well be even worse over the coming winter months. These are professionals, working in unfamiliar conditions. We ourselves, as a church community, have had to navigate whole new ways of being and doing church. Perhaps, at first, we thought of these things as a stop gap, a holding of things together until we could return to the familiar. It is becoming increasingly obvious that, at least for many churches, there will be no going back, only a pressing on, through an uncertain sea to an as yet unknown land.

How should we mark the Feast of St Luke this year, and how might it help us? Might it help us sustain prayer and our response to human need, to imagine our physicians—our doctors and nurses and all who work on the frontline of the NHS—as sailors on a stormy sea, under a dark and rainbow-less sky?

What would happen if we were to imagine Luke as a guide on the journey we face, to pray with him and perhaps through the lens of his story? How might the idea of short hops between safe harbours, or even shipwreck and loss, help us reimagine church, and, as church, contribute to a reimagining of wider society?

What would happen if we were to imagine Luke not as the physician who restores Paul to health but as the expert guide who assists him in dying well, by putting his affairs in order? How might that help us in forming our response to the death that awaits us all, in supporting our neighbours and our communities in this essential task and act of life?

Might Luke hold out for us the possibility of being, for one another, the still, centred place in the face of the gale force hurricane, simply by being present?

What do you need to do, in response, to prayerfully participate in the Feast of St Luke? What do you need to put in order? Who do you need to call, or forgive, or ask for help?

One small suggestion: why not write your response to the Feast of St Luke—it might be in the form of a prayer—on a sheet of paper, fold it into a paper boat, and set it sail on a stream through one of the local parks, or even, if you can get to the bank safely, the river Wear? Then watch as it is carried downstream. Note where it gets stuck in an eddy, or runs aground, or even capsizes, or perhaps until it disappears from view. Continue to pray, thanking God for faithful presence and companions in the past, and bringing to God your hopes and dreams and fears in the present.

And may the God of St Luke be beside you, giving you strength, and guiding you with wisdom…