Dig Deeper into Sunday’s Gospel: Read Luke 12:32–48
When I read the opening words of Sunday's gospel—“Fear not, little flock" (Luke 12:32 RSVCE)—I wondered how this blog hadn't landed in the lap of our dear friend and chicken aficionado, Laura Phelps. Undoubtedly, she would have had some beautiful wisdom about these tender words from our Lord and the lessons to be learned from a little flock of chickens.
The image is so sweet and captivating that I was tempted to write about it myself. And though I love the idea of owning chickens, I also believe in the first rule of writing: "write what you know." So I will merely encourage you to pray with those words, to pray with that gentle image, and hope that in 2028, when we see this gospel again, Laura will be writing about it, or that I'll have acquired a little flock of my own. I, on the other hand, will write about another line in this gospel.
Praying with this passage, I kept being drawn to Luke 12:37: "Blessed are those servants whom the master finds vigilant on his arrival. Amen, I say to you, he will gird himself, have them recline at table, and proceed to wait on them."
Tucked away in a gospel that tells us not to be afraid, to be detached from earthly possessions, to trust in the Father's providence, and to maintain a disposition of watchfulness and vigilance is a foreshadowing of the type of love the Father has for us.
If we follow His will, if we choose to wake up each day and commit ourselves to loving and serving our Lord rather than waiting on signs, if we choose faith and persist toward our eternal homeland, then yes, we will be blessed. But more astonishing is this: God will come to serve us. He will invite us into the heavenly banquet, so that we may join in the celebration. The Master will lower Himself and lift us up. It's not surprising that the obedient are spared punishment; perhaps that was even their main motivation. But Jesus doesn't stop at justice. He goes beyond words of praise and affirmation, though even that would feel so generous. No, He does so much more than that. Jesus incomprehensibly flips the paradigm. The Master becomes the servant.
And that brings me to two questions I keep thinking about:
If we know we won't just be spared from punishment, but be served by Him when He arrives, does it change how we wait?
When He does come, are we willing to receive that type of love?
I think that the second question is particularly important. The more I sit with this verse, the more I am shocked. I can hardly fathom letting the pope take on such a role, let alone my Lord and my God. I try to picture myself as a servant, working hard to faithfully serve my Master. Then I imagine Him waiting upon me. Truthfully? I'm uncomfortable. I'm squirming. I want to reject this lavish outpouring of love. It's too extravagant, too undeserved. I want to return to what I know and have done well: being a humble servant. But instead, I'm asked to sit at a banquet, to be honored, to be received. In this, I can't help but think of Peter, how he initially says no to the Lord washing his feet. And I get it. The one I adore stooping low? The King of the universe serving me? Impossible.
To have a part in His life, we must receive Him and allow Him to love us in a deeply personal way.
There's a twofold call here to the life of believers: to wait vigilantly while serving dutifully. For many of us, this is the easier part of the call. The other part is this: to cultivate a receptive heart so that when He comes, and girds himself, and asks us to sit down so that He may serve us, we humbly let Him.
Food for thought or journaling …
Which part of the twofold call: serving or receiving do I need to grow in?
Jesus, Your love for me is overwhelming. You want to love me so deeply, so extravagantly. Help me to break down the walls I'm keeping up to prevent myself from being known so personally. Help me to wait for You vigilantly and joyfully. May my life be one of service, and when others try to serve me, may I humbly receive them, knowing that it is a foreshadowing of the type of love You wish to bestow upon me.
