Sermon for January 26, 2025 - The Third Sunday after Epiphany

St Luke is shown holding the physician's staff in this stained glass window in Holy Trinity church in Stratford-upon-Avon. 18 October is his feast day. https://flic.kr/p/8L2iio

Though not in any official tour guidebook on the city of Boston, one place that I almost never miss when I am in town is the monastery of the Society of Saint John the Evangelist, the community of monks, perhaps better known to Canadians as the Crowley Fathers, with whom I am affiliated as a member of the Society of Saint John. Adjacent to Harvard Square and the winding Charles River, the monastery is a peaceful oasis in the midst of the relentless urban hustle and bustle. Many times I have found refuge in their rhythms of hospitality and prayers.

So, if you happen to be in town, I highly recommend visiting their beautiful campus. Built at roughly the same time as All Saints, the trades people and artisans who had laboured to build the magnificent chapel gave the gift of two stained-glass windows, that are called the “Workmen’s Windows.” On the left is Saint Joseph the carpenter, pictured with the young Jesus as his assistant and his mother nearby. The window on the right pictures Saint Luke the Physician along with the caduceus - the ancient Greek staff or wand carried by Hermes that is entwined with two snakes and surmounted with wings and is still the symbol of medicine and healing. But what I find most interesting is that Luke is portrayed painting a portrait of the Virgin Mary! Now you can find reference in the Gospels about Joseph being a carpenter; and you can find reference in the epistles about Luke being a physician. But Luke the artist? That was new to me. Where did that come from? Not from the scriptures, but from tradition.

As a physician, Luke practiced his vocation with a combination of science, experience, intuition, and bedside manner, then as now; the medical arts. The tradition around Luke as a graphic artist springs from one or more paintings discovered in Rome at least by the ninth century and attributed to Luke. This may be wishful thinking. But at least one early 20th century scholar expresses an opinion that Luke was certainly an artist as a wordsmith. Like no other writer in the New Testament, Luke describes with fascinating, picturesque detail the angels’ Annunciation to the Virgin Mary; the Visitation to her kinsfolk, Elizabeth and Zachariah; the Nativity scene with the Shepherds; Jesus’ Presentation at age 12 in the Temple; the Good Shepherd searching for the lost sheep. These and many other scenes described by Luke in the Gospel attributed to him and in the Acts of the Apostles have become inspired, inspiring themes of artists down through the centuries. If Luke did not paint with pigment, he surely painted with words. And then others painted his words.

Luke was not a Jew, but rather a Gentile. His home was likely Antioch, capital of Syria. Some historians conjecture he was educated in Tarsus, the foundation of a famous medical school, and also the hometown of St. Paul, to whom Luke became a devoted friend. Paul writes from prison just before he was executed: “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course… Only Luke is with me.” Luke also knew St. Peter. When it comes to the writing attributed to Luke, it is the most eloquent Greek of the New Testament. It is fascinating what he notices and records. Remember that Luke is a physician. It’s no surprise then, of the four Gospel writers – Matthew, Mark, Luke and John – it is only Luke who remembers that Jesus began his public ministry talking about healing.

As we heard in our gospel today, Luke tells of Jesus’ going to the synagogue in Nazareth on the sabbath day, as was his custom: “He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written: ‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free….’” Luke continues, “and [Jesus] rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him… and Jesus said, ‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’”

So begins Jesus’ public ministry in the Gospel according to Luke. On the one hand, it is no surprise that Luke the physician would understand Jesus first-and-fore-mostly as a healer. There was so much suffering caused by disease, poverty, fear, injustice, prejudice, and persecution. But this is far more than an extension of Luke’s vocation as a physician; clearly Luke himself needed the healing that Jesus promised, about binding up the broken hearted, proclaiming liberty to the captives, release to the prisoners, comfort to those who mourn. Why else would a privileged, eloquent, well-educated Gentile physician follow the Great Physician in life and death? Some tradition remembers Luke living to an old age; another memory has it that Luke died as a Christian martyr in Egypt.

"Luke alone is with me. Get Mark and bring him with you; for he is very useful in serving me." - 2 Tim 4:11.

This stained glass window is in Holy Trinity church in Stratford-upon-Avon. https://flic.kr/p/8L2jbE

Assuming that Luke is the author of the Gospel which bears his name, and also that he authored The Acts of the Apostles, we learn a fair amount about him because of the recurrent themes in his writing. Undoubtedly there is a thread of autobiography in what captured Luke’s heart and mind in his writings. Why, as an upper-crust Gentile, was Luke so broad in his sympathies, so compassionate toward the outcasts of society, so self-effacing, so loyal to those whom he loved? Why was Luke such a desperate and faithful follower of the Great Physician, this Jesus? We don’t really know, but it’s probably for most of the same reasons as we who are gathered here today.

Luke hears Jesus say he is the anointed one. Physicians, then as now, would anoint patients with healing oils and salves to aid the healing of wounds.  Jesus’ promise is to bind up the wounds of our broken body and inner heart. Life can be very wounding, and I am sure you know that fact just as well as I do. Luke also remembers Jesus’ speaking about unbinding, which would be understood quite literally as an act of justice to free political prisoners shackled to chains and abandoned in the nefarious prisons of the first century. A prison in Jesus’ day was a dark place where prisoners faced starvation and likely were infected with some dis-ease, at least the dis-ease of fear. Prisoners were quite literally left to rot. Jesus speaks of opening the prison to those who are bound. Jesus’ unbinding is also understood metaphorically as the experience of forgiveness, of being set free from a prison of own past: things done or left undone, said or left unsaid by others to us or by us ourselves. Jesus is the Messiah, which, in Hebrew, is “the anointed one;” Jesus is the Christ, which, in Greek, also means “the anointed one” who comes to us as our anointed sovereign and saviour to unbind us and set us free; and who comes to us as our healer to bind us up and make us whole.

Of course, Luke writes his history in retrospect. Luke knew what we know about Jesus, this anointed sovereign and saviour. Even as Jesus prepares to meet his own death, he invites us to follow. And so, when Luke remembers Jesus’ saying this curious thing, that he has come “to bring good tidings to the afflicted and to comfort those who mourn,” Luke knows very well that this includes the cross… which may be the greatest word of hope. Not that you have to go looking for the cross, but rather that the experience of the cross that you already have is a place where Jesus is to be found. In the depths of darkness, the light of Christ shines. New life comes out of the cross. Jesus, our Sovereign, came to unbind us from our chains. Jesus our Great Physician, came to salve our broken heart and body. Jesus our Saviour, came to lead us through the paradox of the cross to the life we crave and that he promises. Jesus, God’s beloved came for you, also beloved by God. Amen.