First, a confession: I am quite certain I would have made a terrible or, at very least, a very nervous disciple. Today’s Gospel text comes in what commentators point to as the fifth part of Luke’s Gospel. As Jesus journeys to Jerusalem, he articulates what ‘discipleship’ looks like. It is likely that much of this teaching was done over meals and the author of Luke is clearly concerned for those at society’s fringes. Another key theme in this section of Luke is the escalating warnings to be prepared. Here is where my nerves would come in.
Today’s Gospel features several images of readiness. In expectation of the master (‘Lord’ in the original Greek) we are to be dressed for action, to keep the lamps lit (a significant undertaking in biblical times), and to be waiting at the door so we can open it as soon as we hear a knock. I find this all a little amusing because in the preceding passage, Jesus tells his followers to worry less! After hearing Jesus, I’d be terrified that I would miss something important! Clearly, poor Peter shares my sentiments because in verse 41, he asks “Lord, are you telling this parable for us or for everyone?” Translation: “Jesus, what more must we do to be good disciples? We have given up our livelihoods, we are following you, we are paying attention to you. Surely, we are ready.”
Several commentators point to the fact that there are really three interconnected stories happening in our text. Verse 32-34 depicts God as loving shepherd who invites us all to participate in a re-ordered and alternative ‘kingdom’ to Rome that is just and equitable. I have preached on the kingdom recently so, adopting the hubris of an old-school theology professor, I’ll simply say, please refer to my previous discussion of the ‘kingdom.’ The next two stories call for what, Trey Clark describes as “spiritual alertness.” Verses 35-38 describes God as a subversive master through the images of readiness I’ve already mentioned. The final act, if you will, comes in verses 39-40, which seems to compare God/Jesus to an unexpected thief. In both of the latter acts, the mention of a “wedding banquet” and Christ as “Son of Man” are symbols that would have cued biblical listeners to think about hope in humanity’s end times or judgement. What is clear from the balance of Luke, however, is that this hope is reoriented to the worldly present with God’s promised ‘kingdom’ affecting our lives now. How does this work though?
As part of my seminary studies, I was required to take a course on Christian Spirituality in my first semester. This course was challenging for at least two reasons. First, and least, no one agrees on a definition for spirituality! While possible, it is shockingly difficult to systematically study something we can’t put a box around. The second challenge is that Lutherans were taking the class. Early on my classmate piped up, I’m a Lutheran because we are religious not spiritual… In these moments I think about stories recounted to me about my great Oma who viewed anything remotely spiritual or, again, to quote my classmate, too “woo-woo” as Catholic and to be treated with the highest level of skepticism. This type of thinking, in the words of my spirituality professor, Dr. Leslie Veen, is an unfortunate consequence of the Reformation where our Catholic siblings got to keep hold of mysticism while protestants prioritized a more rational, albeit a more sterile, approach to engaging with the Divine.
Our project for the semester was to commit to three spiritual practices and then write about their effect for us. According to Dr. Veen, a spiritual practice was something that we did with intention to seek the Divine, which we then paid attention to. Now while I used a more colourful metaphor in class, I made sure to note that this seemed a bit like what they say about happiness: if you think about it, it goes away. This was really the story of my semester. I got an A for effort but an F- for increasing my conscious contact with God. I bring this up as it seems to come up against the unexpectedness of a spiritual encounter with the Divine or the continual spiritual alertness that seems to be called for in our Gospel text.
As many of you know, I have been doing my Ministry in Context training at Luther Court (the care home with which we share our parking lot, our intergenerational housing project,
and a vision for how we wish to serve our wider community) under the supervision of Pastor Ed Chell, seeking to gain an appreciation for the role of a Chaplain or Spiritual Care provider. Our Ministry in Context placements are intended to allow us to contextualize what we are learning in the classroom and “provide [us] the occasion to explore and discover the jobs, challenges, and opportunities for ministry and leadership” in the life of the Church. In June, I spent my Mondays shadowing Ed and in July and August I have been covering some of Ed’s responsibilities while he is on vacation. The key program in the spiritual rhythm at Luther Court is our daily devotions with the highlight of our spiritual life together being the intentional community in and through which we live.
Again, I have a confession, which I trust you will keep between us and not tell my candidacy committee: My placement at Luther Court began more as a matter of simplicity than any intentional learning goal. As I wrap up my placement, however, I will add to my confession that it has been unexpectedly fulfilling and a deeply spiritual exercise. I would love to share a few stories with you now but know that I am now a student of Ed’s which, following his example, gives me free license to cry. I hope it is an invitation for you to be moved.
Many of our residents live with a form of Dementia. One of the first things Ed shared with me is his discovery that people with dementia can learn. It took a while, but now when I see one of my regulars, and I take their hand, and we share a moment of intentional eye contact, their face brightens up. While they may not know my name, at least in my heart I feel that I am recognized.
I also find myself amazed by what remains deeply felt in the core of our beings even as some of our acuity fades. Being a good Lutheran boy, I can’t help but bring some responsive liturgy into our devotions. It works for some but generally I read both the bold and the light text and it all seems to work out. It is truly nothing short of miraculous how the playing of certain songs physically brings folks back to a different place and however briefly changes them. Praying the Lord’s prayers is also something to behold. Pastor Lyle, who
we are blessed to have with us today to baptise his grandchild, once expressed to me that it is like the spiritual North Star. While my responsive liturgy tends to be more of a monologue, to begin “Our Father,” and hear everyone recite the prayer is truly a moment that I feel immense privilege to step into each day.
It has also become my practice to go around and share a personal peace at the end of our devotions with each resident. It is a moment that to me embodies our Lutheran understanding of grace. In a simple exchange, we express to each other that you matter just because you are you. In one of these interactions last week, a resident said that coming here (to devotions) gave them hope.
I appreciate that you have indulged me to take this somewhat roundabout way to get to the following point. I was not ready to be so readily moved or for God to be so richly present in my time at Luther Court nor did I expect it to be so deeply spiritually enriching. It feels a bit as though the thief has made an unexpected entry into my life, and I am left playing a bit of spiritual catch-up. To take one last shot at Dr. Veen, I don’t think I was intentional about it, but I am now certainly paying attention to the ways in which the Divine has been at work this summer. The life and ministry of Jesus, perhaps especially as it is depicted in Luke, reminds us very literally of God’s desire to be with us, in the ordinariness of life, and work through us in love.
In a moment we will celebrate the baptism of Aven Lyle K'sîwât'sô Corrie. Luther teaches us that baptism is a holy encounter with the Divine whereby God claims us in love. For Luther, baptism is the continual reminder we need of God’s true presence in each of our lives. Aven, when God’s presence feels close may it free you to go out and love others. When God’s presence feels further away, may you cling to the promise of your baptism and know that God and this community loves you.
So, friends, let us be dressed for action, keep your lamps lit, and stay alert for the ways in which the baptismal promise of God’s presence is at work in your life. I suspect it will be where and when you least expect it. Amen.
