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Preached - second Sunday after Epiphany...January 14, 2007
Readings: Is. 62:1-5; Psalm 36:5-10; 1 Cor. 12:1-11; Jn. 2:1-11
Archdeacon Hugh Hamilton shared an interesting story this past Thursday at our weekly clergy lunch. It seemed to resonate with me a little so I thought I’d share it with you…
This is a story about an early experience in ministry recounted by Rt. Rev. Rodney Michel, Bishop Suffragan of Long Island while addressing a recent diocesan convention:
“I was asked by a funeral director to conduct a graveside service for a homeless man from the area. The burial was to be at a cemetery way back in the country, and this man would be the first to be laid to rest there. I was not familiar with the outback, and many of you know how I am with directions. Well, I got lost, and being a typical man, I did not stop for directions. I finally arrived an hour late, bedecked in full sartorial splendor, and saw the crew eating lunch, but the hearse was nowhere in sight. I apologized to the workers for my tardiness, and stepped to the side of the open grave, where I saw the vault lid already in place. I assured the workers I would not hold them long, but this was the proper thing to do. The workers gathered around, still eating their lunch. Well, I poured out my heart and soul and closed the lengthy service with a blessing and walked to my car. I felt I had done my priestly duty for that poor soul, and that the crew would leave with a renewed sense of purpose and dedication, in spite of my tardiness. As I was opening the door and taking off my cappa negra and biretta, I overheard one of the workers saying to another, ‘I have never seen anything like this before…and I’ve been putting in septic tanks for 20 years.’”
As the congregation of a newly ordained minister I am sorry to say that you are going to be blessed with these kinds of interesting anecdotal stories. (‘Blessed’ is the right word isn’t it?) It won’t be long before I’ll be doing something out of my youthful ignorance that will crack a few smiles or roll a few eyes. Perhaps I already have! And well, you know what? That’s ok. Because from here on in, you and I are in this together.
Around my ordination a professor of mine likened my ordination service to a wedding, I was marrying the Church in a sense. It was a fruitful image, for having only been married for a year and a half the memories of my wedding to Allison were fresh in my mind. But now we come to yet another kind of marriage—one between a minister and a church. I am not only joined to the Anglican Church, but I’m also now in close relationship to each of you at Holy Trinity. I think I can say that the marriage between you, the people of Holy Trinity, and myself has just begun. And if I can be honest, that is somewhat of a scary thought!
The anxieties and stresses I’ve felt the last several weeks are not unlike the ones I experienced prior to marriage. Many people get the jitters before they’re married, not because they are not in love, but because of the fear of the unknown. They are tasting the first fruits of an identity crisis—who will I be, what will I be known for, now that I am married? What is my life going to look like? Will my friendships change? Do I have to compromise my priorities? And of course there are the real important questions: who’s going to do the dishes, who’s going to take the trash out, and what side of the bed do I get?
There is an anxiety over leaping into the unknown, an anxiety I know well. As many of you know by now, I was not raised in the Anglican Church, and only came to know it as I went off to an Anglican seminary less than 7 years ago. So what would my life look like not only as a confirmed Anglican, but now as an Anglican minister, and soon, as an Anglican priest? How would Allison and I adjust to the new responsibilities and stresses, not to mention a new city! But as we journeyed together to get this far, we knew that all along the way it was a journey we were making with God. We would pray together, seek the advice and encouragement of friends and family. And ultimately we take hope in the Scriptures, and the assurances God makes to His people who journey with Him.
I take solace in much of the Old Testament for its pages are littered with frustrated, angry, stressed, and worried people. The people of God had faith, (some of the time), yet they faced struggle after struggle, bouncing from one sufferable situation to another. The situation surrounding our first reading today fits this mould. In this reading we hear words uttered from a man representing a broken people. Isaiah represents a people who are identified as ‘Forsaken’ living in a land termed ‘Desolate’. Names in the Hebrew tradition had great significance (just think of Moses asking God His name before he would give God’s message to the Hebrews). Places, people, and things can all have names that represent their moods, circumstances, events, and identities. The setting of the book of Isaiah is the city of Jerusalem, a city that over the course of the book’s writing had been conquered or oppressed by three empires, the Assyrians, the Babylonians, and the Persians. Our section today most likely comes around the time the Israelites from the city had been deported to the Babylonian Empire. The people were dislocated, disillusioned, and most likely anxious about living in a strange land without a home to truly call their own (I can relate!)…and to those who were able to find their way back to the city, finding hope that their home would be restored must have been…well…hopeless.
But the reading does not end with this rather bleak image of God’s people: God intervenes on behalf of His people. He gives His people a new name that comes directly from His mouth—the people shall be called “My Delight is in Her” and their land shall be called “Married”. A suffering people—people who were regarded with derision by their captors and neighbours, a people who were at risk of losing their identities just as they had lost their freedom, a people undoubtedly anxious about their future—are given words of hope. In spite of their many shortcomings and failures, they were the delight of God. Bride of the holiest of Bridegrooms.
In this season of Epiphany it is appropriate to read from passages that use this wedding imagery. The Christian tradition speaks of the Incarnation as the wedding of humanity and divinity in the person of Jesus Christ. We celebrate the God-made-flesh event in the Christmas season and in the season of the epiphany which recognizes how God’s glory is revealed miraculously through Christ. So how fitting it is that when we are watchful for the ways in which God’s glory is revealed to His people, beyond Isaiah’s time into 1st century Palestine, we are invited to a wedding feast in the gospel of John.
The story takes place ‘on the third day,’ an anticipatory clue for those of us knowing that God’s ultimate demonstration of His glory is also to happen on a ‘third day’. The reader is invited to a wedding feast along with Mary, Jesus, and his disciples. At this reception there must have been great frivolity and good times for they ran out of wine! Now, I don’t know how much of a ‘Bridezilla’ the bride from this story was—I can only imagine how some brides would’ve handled such a blemish on their perfect day. Perhaps a little yelling, a little threatening directed at the caterers, and lots of heated pacing! (Not that Allison exhibited any of these characteristics at our wedding I can assure you!) But whatever the case, the shortage would’ve created great anxiety for the hosts of this soiree. This was a culture that prides itself on its hospitality and honouring guests—think of the scandal should the guests leave the party early, disappointed!
So who would be quick to step into an anxious situation before they’re ever asked? Why, a mother of course! Mary steps in, makes the situation known to Jesus, knowing somehow that he is the only one present who can bring order to chaos, and peace to the anxious. Jesus at first seems annoyed at the whole thing, perhaps making light of the situation because the true demonstration of his glory would come at a later date. But Mary knows her son well, and there is a sense of a developing faith in her words to the servants to “do whatever he tells you.”
Jesus tells the servants to fill six stone water jars—these ceremonial jars typically ran from 18 to 24 gallons each. They were used to keep the purification laws of the Torah, the Old Testament commandments of how God’s people are to live. Some scholars believe the fact that there are six of them is significant, one short of the number associated with perfection in the Jewish religion. (Think of the seven days of creation).
Jesus is about to perfect an imperfect situation at a wedding, but through his life, death and resurrection he is also about to perfect an imperfect way of relating to God. He turns this vast amount of water into wine, the wedding feast may continue. And not just any wine, but the best wine the steward had ever tasted—Jesus was in the business of exceeding expectations. This miraculous wine is the first sign of Christ’s glory, but in the shedding of his blood we will see the depth of God’s glory in His love for us.
In the Eucharist this morning we will continue to participate in this glorious occasion of God’s provision. As God’s people living in the covenant of faith in Christ, we receive his love and forgiveness and celebrate his coming in glory. We are given the strength to live this reality out in the world by Christ’s ever present Holy Spirit. We now become the stone jars—vessels of an old way of living and thinking that will be transformed to show God’s glory to the world. We are now called to follow Mary’s faith-filled attitude of bringing each of our anxieties and difficult life situations to him. These issues may be personal, but they may also be community challenges and stressed circumstances. We are called to live together in community, joined, wedded together in the Spirit by way of Christ. So God gives us each gifts and abilities to meet the needs of one another: To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. (1 Cor. 12:7)
As a young minister I have my strengths and weaknesses—and most likely you will pick up on them quicker than I! But together we will share the visions and hopes God has given to us. Together we will share in each other’s pain and suffering, in tears of joy and sorrow. And as God continues to transform us stone jars into instruments of His glory, may he enable us to see ourselves as He sees us. May we view His Church, and this church, as God does. May our eyes be open to His glory in this season of Epiphany and beyond, and may we find our sustenance, our very existence in Him.
For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light. (Ps. 36:9) Amen.
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