So too with Jesus, whom we sometimes call the great physician, especially around St. Luke’s’ day. The same three medical principles apply. Our Lord bears all our wounds, knows that our future comprises a joyous unity with our creator, and has given us the only prescription we need, which is to put our neighbor ahead of ourselves, embodying the love that does not insist on its own way and respects the dignity of every human being.
As with doctors’ orders, it is up to us what to do. And these days, the patients are many and the practitioners few. Our country is one sick puppy. Only a civic expression of core Christian values will save us. So while we are entitled to continue to go to church seeking comfort and healing for ourselves, I’ll extend the medical metaphor one more notch by saying that our congregations had also better be medical schools for disciples who are prepared to go back out into the world as exemplars of self-sacrificial love.
St. Luke’s honors its namesake well. My friend from seminary a quarter-century ago, its rector, the Rev. Neil Tadken, has encouraged and amplified the congregation’s impulses to community outreach and civic engagement. His is a worldly wise ministry, unhesitant about expressing the gospel in public policy terms when it comes to justice for God’s people. He and his spouse, Frank, a brilliant interior designer, used the Covid episode to continue to spruce up the nave and campus, which gleam in the candlelight and autumn sunshine. St. Luke’s will celebrate the 100th anniversary of its current building next May. By then, it will have completed work on a garden renovation outside Swan Hall, a second parish hall which has also been beautifully restored. The new outdoor space will comprise a pet cemetery, labyrinth, and plenty of room for special events.
I was along Sunday to preside, preach, and facilitate the Holy Spirit’s work in confirming, receiving, or reaffirming seven. I was pleased to learn how many candidates and new friends in the receiving line had recently found St. Luke’s, drawn to its exquisite worship, the saving power of the sacraments, and equity for all notwithstanding race or nation, orientation or identification. If we believe all three values are important, and if we understand how rare the combination remains in global Christian expression, we may yet realize that The Episcopal Church, and its progressive siblings in other denominations and faiths, wield a larger prescription pad than we may sometimes think.
During the beautiful liturgy, Kathy Eisel trebled as my chaplain, a confirmation presenter, and our thurifer, complete with the 360-degree swing around the world. Jeanett Armstrong and Donna Hustler cheerfully chatted with me while doing Altar Guild duties. Kent Bennett Jones led the magnificent St. Luke’s choir and filled me in over a delicious lunch about the St. Luke’s men’s Evensong invitational, featuring voices from all over the region. He said that since he had trouble finding a setting for male voices only, he wrote one. His compositions, including a soaring descant for “St. Patrick’s Breastplate,” also featured in the liturgy. Kelly Lauer, a postulant for Holy Orders, sang in the choir and told me how much she is enjoying her seminary work as well as her vocation at Scripps College, overseeing relations with members of the board.
It was a joy to see my old friends Margie and Gary Toops. Director emeritus of the Festival Singers, who rehearse at my old hang, St John Chrysostom Church in Rancho Santa Margarita, Gary plays the organ at St. Luke’s on special occasions. Margie said she had just recently returned to her accustomed place in the Festival Singers alto section, which means that Tuesday evenings, the Toopses are again traipsing down the 241, my well beaten path for nearly 12 years. So much changes that it’s wonderful when precious things don’t.
