Lifting the veil

Readings

Today is the last Sunday of Epiphany; we have come through a season of revelation – the gospels have given us a series of stories about Jesus being revealed as much more than a regular baby, a regular man. The story of the wise men bringing gifts for a king, priest, and sacrifice, John the Baptist baptizing Jesus as God’s voice booms out of the sky and the spirit descends on him like a dove, the wedding at Cana where Jesus turned water into wine, and now Jesus himself is transfigured into light while three of his disciples sit stunned.

Epiphany... revelation... reveal... to un-veil

All these events lift pull back the veil of ordinariness and show that there is much more to Jesus than people normally saw.

Imagine the top of a mountain; it’s night time, the stars are out, making their own light, and the moon is out, reflecting a fraction of the light of the sun. Four men are climbing slowly up; when they reach the top, three of them sit down, lean on their hands, but one begins to pray. That one is Jesus.

While Jesus was praying, Peter, James, and John, even though they had been on the verge of nodding off, suddenly saw something very unexpected happening to their teacher. Light began to radiate from his face and from his whole body. His face, his skin, even his clothes were shining – not the pale green of a firefly, but bright white like the light of a welding torch - they could hardly look at him - his face was like lightning.

Then they noticed Moses and Elijah also standing there, talking with Jesus. The three sleepy guys were totally awake and focused at that point, their eyes fixed on the three figures. What is going on?
The disciples all knew the stories about Moses and Elijah and how they interacted with God - how Moses went up on Mt. Sinai to get the law and talked with God – face-to-face, like you would a friend, and how, when Moses came down the mountain, the stories all said the skin of his face was shining; it freaked people out so much that he started wearing a veil until the light faded and he looked normal again. The disciples knew the stories about Elijah, who at the end of his life didn’t die but was swept up into a chariot of fire and carried away by God. 

They all knew the stories, but now the stories were standing in front of them talking to each other.
Even though God loves us, and even when we believe God loves us, we can still be afraid of God’s great power. But in Christ, God made himself small, so we wouldn’t be as afraid to approach.

It’s like an adult stooping down to talk to a small child, eye to eye, rather than towering over them and booming down words they don’t understand. Jesus is God, stooping down so we can see him eye to eye and not be afraid. But he is also still God – “Light from Light, true God from true God.”
Even though God loves us, and even when we believe God loves us, we can still be afraid of God’s great power. But in Christ, God made himself small, so we wouldn’t be as afraid to approach.
It’s like an adult stooping down to talk to a small child, eye to eye, rather than towering over them and booming down words they don’t understand. Jesus is God, stooping down so we can see him eye to eye and not be afraid. But he is also still God – “Light from Light, true God from true God.”
It’s like an adult stooping down to talk to a small child, eye to eye, rather than towering over them and booming down words they don’t understand. Jesus is God, stooping down so we can see him eye to eye and not be afraid. But he is also still God – “Light from Light, true God from true God.”

Peter started to blurt out something irrelevant and inappropriate at that point – but while he was talking, a cloud started coming down onto the mountain, and the three disciples all froze. Some of the other stories in the Bible talk about God’s power descending over Mt. Sinai, causing the whole mountain to shake and smoke, when Moses when to receive the law, and many of the Psalms use images of raw natural power, such as storms, to describe God’s power. If you’ve been in any kind of big storm, you have a sense of how immense just natural power is, much less supernatural power.

“They were terrified as they entered the cloud” -  I bet they were.

God isn’t just powerful, though; God is also kind. Out of the cloud, God takes into account the disciples limitations in what kind of communications they can and can’t decipher; so God speaks to the disciples in words they can recognize: “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

The cloud, though frightening to the disciples, veils God’s glory to a point that they can bear it – but this veil also reveals enough for them to recognize God’s presence for what it is.

A veil partly obscures and partly reveals what’s behind it. Sometimes the veil is to protect the one who wears it from other eyes, and sometimes it protects the eyes of those who are looking. Moses’ veil was to protect the other Israelites, who were disturbed by his shining face and afraid to come near him. When God wanted us not to be afraid to come near him, he veiled himself in our humanity. “Veiled in flesh the God-head see; hail the incarnate Deity.” Jesus is Emmanuel – God with us. 

The Transfiguration further unveiled Jesus’ identity as both God’s Son and the Son of Mary – human and divine, connecting us in our humanity to God in God’s glory.

The Epiphany, or revelation – or “unveiling” of Christ also reveals an alarmingly beautiful promise of who we are becoming as Christ transforms us. As you receive Christ’s body in the Eucharist, his body becomes part of your bodies and is transforming you from the inside out, increasing your capacity to both hold and reveal God’s glory. You may still look ordinary, but keep in mind, there is a lot of mystery in the world that we can’t see yet, but it’s there.

There is more dark matter in the universe than visible matter, for instance. There is a lot more empty space in an atom than mass. Some of the most fundamental aspects of our natural world remain a mystery even after several hundred years of intense scientific exploration. We still can’t really say what light even is, for example. We kind of know what makes light. But fire is also mysterious and unpredictable; we use electricity all the time but still fundamentally don’t know what it is exactly. We run into trouble trying to define even the most basic things, but mystery in ordinary things is a good thing to explore.

As the Mr. Rogers’ says, “It’s good to be curious about many things...”

For example, when I was reading about Moses’ shining face and how it continued shining after he left the presence of God and gradually faded away, it reminded me of phosphorescence – light without heat. I wondered if skin had the capability of emitting light. I don’t know; I’m just curious. Whether or no, it’s still a useful metaphor: if we want to continue to shine with God’s light, we need to regularly be in God’s presence or the light will fade. I also thought about the way phosphorescent material “resonates” (it’s the nearest thing I could think of, although resonance refers to sound) with the light that shines on it; something about the material gets activated by light and begins then to emit light. It’s interesting to think that something in us resonates or gets activated by God, and that part in us begins then to shine with a similar light.

As we heard in today’s Epistle 

“all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another...”

Seeds

Lectionary Readings: Lamentations 1:1-6; Lam. 3:19-26;  2 Timothy 1:1-14;  Luke 17:5-10

How great is your faithfulness, O God! Amen.
Lord, increase our faith!
We don't know what we're doing. We need more people. We can't start yet - we're not ready. We need more information. We need more training, more experience, more money, more time...  Enough already!

That's what Jesus tells his disciples – you have enough already.
They say, "Give us more faith" – he says, "You've got all the faith you need – if you have this much, you've got more than enough" How much? The size of a mustard seed.

They're not very big, are they? Seeds themselves are not much to look at – small, nondescript, kind of dead-looking. You can't tell what a seed is going to grow into until you've had some experience. So unless you've seen that kind of seed before, you can't tell by looking at the outside what kind of plant it will become – and you can't tell by cutting it in half to look at the inside, either.

You have to put it in the ground and see what grows.

A lot of things are like seeds.

A baby is like a seed – I got to hold my little cousin Wyatt last week when he was only a few hours old. There's no way to know who he's going to grow up to be – you can't tell by looking; we'll have to wait till he starts growing to even begin to guess.

Faith is like a seed, too – in today's epistle, faith gets passed down in Timothy's family almost like DNA, from his grandmother to his mother to him. Faith gets planted in us at baptism and confirmation and all the sacraments – it's ready to germinate and grow when the conditions are right. Like it says in Timothy, "rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of… hands."

The words of scripture are like seed – sometimes called logos spermatikos – the implanted word. Every time somebody stands up here to read the Word of the Lord, you're peppered with little seeds. When and how they take root depends on lots of factors. If nothing is growing at all, you may need to condition your soil. The seed itself is good; when you create an environment conducive for it to take root, it will.

Experiences are seeds – even hard ones like pain and death. When the church was under so much persecution in the 300s and people were being killed left and right, Augustine wrote that the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church – because that's what grew out of the deaths. The gospel also says that when a seed dies and falls to the ground, it grows up to produce 30, 60, a hundred fold return. What looks like the end of something is many times more of a beginning.So I think grief is closely connected to the growth of new and unexpected things. Grief sometimes involves digging up things that haven't been touched in a long while, pulling things out and turning the ground over and over and over, until it looks chewed up and bare – with bits of what used to be growing there poking out all over. This is what it sounds like in Lamentations – things look nothing like they used to

"How lonely sits the city that once was full of people! How like a widow she has become!"

I don't think grief itself is the seed; I think memories and experiences are. Relationships grow like flowers or trees, and when a person in your life dies, the blooms drop off, and you're left with stickers that poke you when you touch them or velcro things that grab onto you when you walk by, or delicate fluffy things that float away when you breathe on them. Your memories and experiences are like seeds. They're not what they were – but also, you have no idea what they might become.

A lot of things are like seeds.
On the outside, a seed looks dead. And basically, it is until it's put in the ground, but when conditions are right - the ground begins to warm, it receives water, suddenly the skin splits open, a root snakes out and a stem pushes up, unfolding a couple of green leaves

– and it turns out the inside of the seed is hundreds, thousands, millions of times bigger than the outside.

Even after all these centuries, it's still a process we can only describe, not really explain. You probably don't know what kinds of seeds you're carrying around – you can't tell by looking at them. And anyway, as seeds, they probably don't look very impressive, but what's inside is way more than you can guess. You need to put them in the ground. Ecclesiastes (11:6) says,Who plants a seed trusts God – maybe not even very much, but it doesn't take much. Do you still have the seed in your hand? Look at it. That's more than enough faith for God to work in you. Don't ask for more of this, more of that – the faith you have is enough; put something in the ground. You don't have to know what will grow from it, just start planting.

"in the morning sow your seed and at evening do not let your hands be idle; for you do not know which will prosper, this or that, or whether both alike will be good."

I love the story of Gideon; God asks him to save Israel and he says 'Oh I can't, my tribe is the smallest, and my family is the most insignificant of the clan, and I'm the youngest… blah blah blah… I can't do it!' and God says to him, "Go in the strength you have… Am I not sending you?"(Judges 6:14-16) In other words – do you think I'm asking you to do this by yourself? I'm right here.

The writer of Lamentations says to God,

"You are my portion…therefore I hope in you. You are good to those who wait with patience, to every soul that seeks you."

 God is with us, he is more than enough for all we need; he is our portion. He feeds us with his own life. The Eucharist is also like a seed; when you come to receive it today, think of it this way: you are planting the life of Christ in yourself; now wait patiently for it to grow.

And while you're waiting, go in the strength you have, with the faith you have – it's already enough, and plant your own seeds in the world around you.

Amen.

Homework...

Gospel Reading: Luke 14:1,7-14

Not for a place of honor did your Son come among us, O god of the lowly, but to invite to the wedding feast the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame. Let such humility grace our table and lead us to renounce the quest for power and privilege. … Amen.

(From Prayers for Sunday and Seasons, Year C, Peter J. Scagnelli, LTP, 1992.)

It seems there is a common theme lately in sermons to this community. A lot of them seem to be focusing on breaking attachments to money and power and other things that serve as pseudo-security in place of God.

Here is the same topic again today – in Jeremiah, the prophet talks about the people forgetting and turning their back on all God did for them, his continual provision and faithfulness: rescuing them from Egypt, leading them through the wilderness – through a land no one survives in – and bringing them into a land where there is plenty. Instead of remembering that they owe all their current prosperity to God, they start attributing it to themselves and to other gods. Through Jeremiah, God laments, “My people have changed their glory for something that does not profit… they have forsaken me, the fountain of living water, and dug out cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that can hold no water.”

In the Psalm, we hear again God’s promise to take care of his people’s needs, as he has continually done in the past, and his wish that they would accept what he wants to give them.

I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt and said,
"Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it." … O that my people would listen to me.

Hebrews is very straightforward in its advice.

Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have. Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have.

I’m not sure why this keeps being the theme of sermons here. Maybe it’s something this community particularly needs to hear – or maybe it’s just a topic everybody needs to have reiterated. Probably both. Are you aware if it’s sinking in for you?

Money is not security; God is security.
Money is not ultimately of any value; God is of ultimate value.
Money may or may not even get you daily bread; God provides for your every need.

Money is only useful if you can trade it for what you need or want, but if what you need isn’t available, money won’t get it for you, and if the person who has what you need doesn’t want money for it, there again, money is not use. We’ve seen also that money can very easily and very quickly lose value and even become completely worthless. And it’s of no use at all in obtaining things of really great value.

“Will you be my friend? I’ll give you a hundred dollars…”
“Will you drop the charges against me? I’ll give you a hundred dollars…”
“Will you marry me? I’ll give you a hundred dollars…”
“I want to be a senator. I’ll give you a hundred dollars…”
“Can I have an indulgence to erase my sins? I’ll give you a hundred dollars…”

When people try to trade money for these things, it becomes a scandal – money, in these situations, actually reduces the value of what it’s traded for. Inappropriate use of money in these areas fosters disillusionment: with the political system, with the church, with relationships… it cheapens them, it makes them seem untrustworthy. Why? Because these things are based on a higher value than money.

For some things that have really ultimate value, money is not even a scandal, it’s just a joke.

“God, will you let me in? I’ll give you a hundred dollars…”

What does God have to do with money? Does God buy things? He owns the cattle on a thousand hills – he doesn’t need anything from us. It’s the other way around, he gives us everything. What do we have that we have not been given?

But still, it’s habit to hang onto our things, our abilities, our relationships, even our lives, as though they are ours and not God’s. And we try to get more by taking from each other. An outward representation of that is what Jesus saw at a party: people schmoosing and trying to network and make connections to power and wealth to get up the ladder, trying to sit closest to the host of the party, to be seen as more important. Parties are often still like this – you’ve got some folks trying to sit with or talk to certain other folks – the kids who are more popular, the bosses who are more powerful, the stars who are bigger celebrities. At the same time, people are trying to avoid and get away from those they feel are lower than themselves or might somehow pull them down.

But Jesus says we’re not to be like that – from either side. Neither the brown-nosers nor the snobs.

As one commentator, David Lose, noted, Jesus is not just being Miss Manners when he talks to people about how to act at parties – and who to invite. This business about who sits closest to the host is about pecking order, but Jesus says forget the pecking order – it’s the other way around. Don’t try to sit in the highest seat; sit in the lowest. Don’t try to be the king; be everyone’s servant.

And if you’re the one who’s throwing the party, don’t invite people you want to impress, people you think can help you advance your career, your station in life. You scratch their back and they’ll scratch yours. No, don’t do that – that doesn’t earn you any favor with God, because there’s nothing hospitable or generous about it; it’s a calculated investment, but whatever you get back is all the benefit there is to that kind of transaction. It doesn’t win you any points in heaven.

No, if you want to invest in something truly valuable, try to do something to win God’s favor – as Jesus advises. Do something good for someone who can’t do anything for you. Invite people to your party who can’t even bring the bean dip.

Since this money and economy and giving topic seems to keep coming up, possibly it’s something we need to learn better. In school, when a concept is difficult to grasp with just a lecture, the teacher gives you some homework to practice…

I think that’s a good idea to implement in church. Lots of times, people just come to church and listen to the lecture, and I don’t know how much application of the learning takes place afterwards. I guess that’s fine if you’re just auditing, but really, why even audit a course unless you actually want to learn the material?

So, I’m giving a homework assignment. Now, I’m not the teacher; you won’t turn it in to me. Jesus is the teacher; I’m just subbing today. But this is some of the material he left for us to work on.

What is freedom for?

Proper 8, Year C  -  Readings

God, to know you is eternal life and to serve you is perfect freedom. Amen

“It was for freedom that Christ has set us free.” We’re about to celebrate our Independence Day. Freedom is central to American cultural identity and one of the highest – if not the highest – value of our nation’s ideology. Freedom of religion, freedom of the press, freedom to assemble… free speech, free market economy – we say this is the “land of the free.”

But what is freedom for?

A popular conception of freedom is the idea I should be able to do whatever I want - sometimes with the qualifying idea ‘so long as it doesn’t violate others’ freedom.’
This sometimes degenerates into a bid for freedom from all responsibility…
nobody telling me what I can and can’t do,
nobody hounding me to take care of them,
nobody getting anything out of me
I do what I want and I keep what’s mine.
This is sometimes a major motivating factor for people who become homeless– It’s a form of freedom. This isn’t true so much for the people who become homeless because of crisis events – but it can definitely be true for some people who choose homelessness as a lifestyle.

Is that freedom? Sort of…

The desire to be free from responsibility and free to indulge yourself can lead to big trouble. When you keep indulging your appetites and desires – for food, alcohol, adrenaline rush, love… and you never tell them no, it’s kind of like always indulging your kids – they become more and more demanding and the dynamic of who’s in control starts to shift. At some point, you begin to realize you’re not in control of your appetites anymore; they’re in control of you. When they call, you answer, sometimes without even thinking. You become a slave to your own body, your own mind - and its sicknesses.

This is not freedom. This is not what freedom is for.

Paul says, “You were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence…”

This is an important verse for us. Self-indulgence may be about as central to the American ethos these days as freedom. According to Paul, that shows we’re missing the point. Freedom is a gift, and it’s a gift to be used for the benefit of others, not to indulge our own appetites. Currently, our culture is largely centered around consuming things. We eat more, we buy more junk, we do more drugs than anybody else in the world. We’ve sort of started to decide this is not how we want to live, but we’re discovering it’s hard to stop. The genre of sometimes heart-breaking reality TV shows like “The Biggest Loser,” “Hoarders,” and “Intervention” shows how difficult it is for people to start telling themselves ‘No.’

How do you do it? Paul says, “Live by the Spirit… and do not gratify the desires of the flesh…” Then he gives a whole list of things to stop doing and a whole other list of things to start cultivating in your life: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

One of the most effective ways to re-orient your exercise of freedom away from self-indulgence is to focus on others. Paul takes this to a pretty shocking level when he says, “do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another.” That’s pretty extreme-sounding. “become slaves to one another” Isn’t being a slave the opposite of being free?

It depends. Being enslaved against your will is one thing – an evil thing. But electing to serve is different. In the Old Testament, laws allowed for a Hebrew slave who earned his freedom to choose what he wanted to do with it. One option was to continue serving in the same household. If that’s what he decided, somebody would take an awl and pierce his ear against the doorpost. (Ex21:6) Then, he was identified as a slave who had the option to be free and chose, rather, to stay in service to that household. This is the kind of life Jesus chose for himself. He was free and elected to put himself in our service. He willingly sought the lowest position, becoming a servant to everyone, and he taught us we should do the same.

What is freedom for?

It’s so you can choose who you will serve.

You’re a free person. Free to serve anywhere and anyone you choose – BUT you’re not free not to serve... because even if you serve no one else, you’ll be serving yourself. My recommendation – turn right back around to the one who bought your freedom for you, and serve him. As our prayer book says, in his service is perfect freedom. (BCP p. 57 or 99, Morning Prayer... Collect for Peace)

Being a deacon is teaching me some surprising things about service and obedience. Obedience is a type of freedom. I’m free from a lot of responsibilities. Being a deacon is kind of like being a duke instead of being the king – you get a lot of the benefits without the heavy responsibility. It’s not my responsibility, for instance, to lead St. John’s or to decide things about funding or to answer to the Diocese for our parish’s activities. In a way, this limits my freedom, but in another way, it frees me up to be more effective in the responsibilities I do have.

Before I had accepted this specific role, I was free to worry about a wider range of things in the church – it seemed at the time like a conscientious thing to do. I worried about small local things at St. Mark’s and about things in the Episcopal Church as a whole and in the Anglican communion; I worried about things going on in other denominations and about trends in church attendance across all denominations – in the United States and in Europe. I was quite diligent and far-reaching in my concerns. At one point, I was very concerned to decide which church tradition was most correct, among the Episcopal, Catholic and Orthodox traditions – I was having a particularly tough time with that question and read some books and sought out various people to talk it over with. It seemed it might be impossible to determine conclusively. It was hard to know how to weigh different strong points and failings, and there were bound to be at least a few factors I was unaware of. At some point, though, it suddenly occurred to me… no one had asked me to make that decision. I was, in fact, completely unqualified to do so. It was such a helpful realization – it wasn’t my job! Wow, what a relief! That really freed up my time and mental energy to consider questions much more relevant to me – where am I called to serve?

This is always a good question – if you’ve not asked it, today is a good day. As fair warning, though, the most likely task he’ll set you to is serving others. You were called to freedom… don’t use your freedom as an opportunity for self indulgence but through love become slaves to one another… Love your neighbor as yourself

Our freedom is a gift from God; like all the gifts God has given this community, we shouldn’t just keep them to ourselves. Each of us should use our gifts, and our freedom as Henry Ward Beecher suggested (regarding the gift of one’s intellect) …

not as he uses a lamp in the study, only for his own seeing, but as the lighthouse uses its lamp, that those afar off on the sea may see the shining, and learn their way.

---------

Our father’s God, to thee, author of liberty, to thee we sing;

long may our land be bright with freedom’s holy light;

protect us by thy might, great God our king.


Amen.

Trinity

Readings for Trinity Sunday, Year C          Illustrated bulletin insert


God, you yourself are a community: Father, Son and Holy Spirit; help us to model our life together after your love in the Trinity.

Today is Trinity Sunday – and tomorrow is Memorial Day.
Do you remember what we’re remembering on Memorial Day? Got an email this week from several people with a cartoon by Joe Heller showing a guy in a baseball hat, sunglasses and an apron leaning over his barbecue grill - “Hotdogs, Hamburgers, Bratwurst… Is there anything I forgot?” while in the smoke above the grill, you can see the faces of soldiers who sacrificed their lives, part of a bigger picture that’s obscured when we forget our history.

When we don’t understand or remember the bigger story and what others have given for our sake, we may treat what we’ve received lightly or even throw it away. When we don’t realize our part in the bigger story, the only story that matters is our own, and by itself, it’s very small.

As part of St. John’s, we are part of the Episcopal Church, and the Anglican Communion, and the Church universal from the past and into the future. It’s important to remember the bigger story we’re part of.
For Christians, every Sunday is a Memorial Day – “we remember his death; we proclaim his resurrection…” Everything we do in a Sunday service - every part of the liturgy, every action, every word, every piece of art on the walls, every sound, every taste - is designed to help us remember, to ingrain the story of who we are and who God is into the fabric of our being. Our language resonates with the different tones of Father, Son and Holy Spirit and our understanding of those relationships.

Glory to you, Lord Christ...

Our Father, who art in heaven…thy kingdom come...

Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit…

We believe in one God…

The Trinity forms the basis and model for the community of the Church and for every relationship we participate in: family, church, school, work, city, nation… We learn best from the Trinity how to be part of a community, part of God’s bigger picture.

What is the Trinity? There are many doctrinal formulations and descriptions, many symbols and analogies to try and help people remember this central understanding of our faith in God. Take a look at the insert in your bulletin. The historical documents of our church say that the Trinity is “one God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit” (BCP - Catechism, p. 852)“Three Persons, of one substance…” (Articles of Religion, Article I, BCP p. 867)
 If you take a look sometime at the Athanasian creed, it gets very involved.

(More info on the history, etc. of the Athanasian Creed.)

But words don’t really capture the relationship of the members of the Trinity. People have tried with images also. The inside of your insert explains some of this visual symbolic vocabulary.
St. Patrick’s famous shamrock,
the Celtic triquetra knot,
various combinations of circles and triangles, conveying that the Trinity has both “one-ness” and “three-ness.”
You can also combine symbols of the Father, the Son and the Spirit with these to show distinctions among the members.

More complex designs combine words and images show that while the three Persons of the Trinity are all God, they have distinct identities; they are not the same as each other. The Shield of the Trinity is based on the Athanasian Creed - The Trinity window in Trinity Episcopal Church in Galveston is a circular version of the shield diagram.

But symbols can’t capture the identities of the members of the Trinity either. As Sandra Schneiders, a Roman Catholic nun, observed, “God is more than two men and a bird.” The Trinity is more than words or symbols can convey, but symbols can help us focus on important aspects of God’s character. These interlocking circles here on the front of the pulpit, for instance, show that the members of the Trinity are equal, each whole, and each inextricably joined to the others. How could it inform our life together if we understood and lived the truth that we are all equal, whole and inextricably joined to each other and to God?

On the back of your insert is a much more complex and nuanced representation of the Trinity – Rublev’s icon. Here, three people are presented, not just shapes or symbols or words, and we can read from their expressions and gestures something about their relationships.

One thing to notice is all the faces are the same, because all are God. As Jesus said to Philip in last week's Gospel when Philip asked to see the Father… “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.” (Jn 14:8-9)

The angels are all looking at each other, and their wings overlap each other, showing their close relationship, and their attentiveness to each other. To be in relationship, then, means not only that our lives intersect and overlap at points, but we need to consciously pay attention to each other, to see and hear one another.

The three are seated around a table, with food; their relationship isn’t only talk, but includes hospitality and enjoyment. And there are four sides to the table but only three guests; the open seat is closest to us, and we are invited to join in. So while we love each other and consciously work to sustain our relationships, we should also always look to welcome new members into our community through hospitality.

(Here is one in-depth analysis of the imagery, and here is a reflection on the icon, and another reflection)

Bishop Ian Douglas of Connecticut said,

The Trinitarian God is a God whose very nature is one of relationality, whose very essence is defined by relationship. Our Trinitarian God is thus a God of community, a divine community of love.

The Rev. Joyce Wilkinson commented on this thought that

We can’t be a Christian alone; even our God is a community.

In a different analogy, the relationship of the Trinity was described by St. John of Damascus in the 8th century as a three-person dance (his word was perichoresis), requiring each one to pay close attention to the others in order to move together gracefully. Let’s see them try that in Dancing with the Stars!
Even when you’re paying attention and trying to move together, it can be tricky; imagine if you were to try dancing without paying attention to who you’re dancing with, or even ignoring them… You’re going to step on each other and trip or go opposite ways and maybe yank each other over – any of which will look very un-graceful.

Sometimes, the church is very ungraceful in the way it dances together. But God is not.

The Rev. Joyce and I were talking about the Trinity at Starbucks Thursday night, and afterwards she sent me an email – she had been thinking more about this metaphor of the dance, and she sent me something she read from the Rev. Charles Hoffacker:

The Trinity is unending, joyous dance, yet the wonder is that the circle breaks open,… inviting us in…

Amazingly, God wants us as dance partners, and he doesn’t seem to mind that we are ungraceful, because he loves us. I’m a terrible dancer, though ironically, I love the idea of dancing and would like to learn to do it well, but I always feel nervous about agreeing to dance with someone because I’m worried about being so bad at it and getting embarrassed. But if I trust the person, I can relax and try to follow them, and I end up enjoying the dance. I think it’s like that with God; once we start to trust him and pay attention to where he’s going and try to go with him, we begin to enjoy the dance and worry less whether every step is perfect.

There are different kinds of fear that keep us away from things. One is fear of actual danger. Fr. John talked last week about Pentecost, and how the Holy Spirit is like wind and fire – dangerous and unpredictable. So it’s reasonable to be afraid of allowing the Spirit free reign in your life. It could be dangerous. But then again, there’s courage, and courage is a response to fear when you’re trusting something more certain – and it’s more certain that God loves us. Not that it’s a guarantee nothing scary will happen. It might - God might dip you nearly to the floor – or swing you up over his head – in fact, we ought probably to expect something like that, because he’s kind of crazy sometimes. But the thing is, he won’t drop you.

If the dance metaphor doesn’t work for you, you might also think of this life with the Trinity as cultivating a garden, like in The Shack, where the Holy Spirit is planting and pruning and moving things around in your life. The next 24 weeks, in the long, green growing season after Pentecost, something ought to start sprouting and producing some fruit in you. Don’t be surprised. The Church does its best to make sure the Word gets planted every week (and every day, too).
Then, sometimes when people or events in your life poke holes in your heart, God takes that opportunity to push the seeds further down – and often some manure gets thrown in, too. Take heart...
This is a prime growing environment!
So actually, if something doesn’t grow in you these next few months, that should be the more surprising and concerning thing – and maybe you will want to think about how to rehabilitate your soil...

During this long, green growing season, tend your garden and see what God’s been planting as it starts to come up and bloom.

Amen.

Unity, Constancy and Peace

Readings (3rd Sunday after Easter, Year C)


Lord, remembering the collaboration and the martyrdoms of Peter and Paul, may we also serve you in unity and constancy and peace. Amen.

Paul’s conversion

on the road to Damascus

after having persecuted

Jesus’ followers…

Peter’s restoration

after having denied Jesus…

(Peter, do you love me? by ShouYume)

Two major events in the lives of two major figures in the early Church – one was trying to get the likes of the other one killed – and God brought them together to work side by side. What a crazy idea! Inviting a malicious opposition leader into the Church as a teacher, or putting the responsibility of shepherding the vulnerable new Church in the hands of a coward. But that’s what Jesus did – forgive them; they didn’t know what they were doing. But Jesus knew what he was doing.

One way to get rid of an enemy (other than blowing him to smithereens) is to make him a friend. It sounds idiotic and naïve, but that’s basically what Jesus did with Paul. And so the relentless persecutor of Christians became the Church’s most effective missionary. And what about Peter? 'With friends like that, who needs enemies?' But Jesus used Peter, too – the one who bailed and ran became part of the foundation of the Church. I suppose one way to teach people responsibility is to give it to them.

The story of Peter and Paul is also our story - Confrontation, judgment, forgiveness, restoration – and a new life together. In the Eucharist, we pray “Sanctify us…that we may serve you in unity, constancy and peace.” Peter and Paul neither one started out being constant, and they were the farthest thing from unified at first.

Peter and Paul were on opposite teams; Paul was jailing Peter’s friends and colleagues and having them killed, methodically and with the consent of the religious authorities. When people were stoning Stephen to death, Paul (the man on the right -->) was holding their coats for them.
Later, he got more proactive about it. He obtained letters authorizing him to round up anyone following what they called ‘the Way.’ That’s where he was headed, letter in hand, when Jesus struck him blind, asking “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?”

Paul was full of himself with authority. Jesus had to knock him off his high horse – literally – before he would be quiet enough to listen to the story he’d been shouting down, and hear the truth of the Gospel message. Blinded, helpless, he had to let his victims lead him by the hand, and he learned about faith from them: people he thought were destroying the faith - people like Peter.

Peter’s issue was a bit the opposite. He didn’t need to be knocked down; he was already 'lower than a snake’s belly' with shame, ever since he denied even knowing Jesus – after he had sworn to die for him. He'd thought he was brave but found out he wasn’t. Jesus had to get him to lift his head again and take responsibility for leading the others, even though he didn’t feel able or worthy to, even though he was still scared to die, because people were still trying to kill them – people like Paul.

The persecutor and the deserter... the faithless friend and the outright enemy: both would prove constant in the end.

From the beginning, Peter had left his fishing nets and his home, left everything to follow Jesus. He was the first of the disciples to correctly apprehend who Jesus was.
“Who do you say that I am?”

“You are the Messiah of God” 

At the Last Supper, when Jesus began talking about his imminent betrayal and murder, Peter vowed

"Lord, I am ready to go with you to prison and to death!"

But a few hours later, a girl pointed at him in the firelight and said he had been with Jesus, and Peter said,

“I don’t know him.”

Peter, the rock, was not so strong and constant then, and when he heard the rooster crow, he broke down crying and ran.

But encountering the risen Christ can make a difference – can change a person. Jesus rose again and came back to see them, and one of the things he did was restore Peter to dignity and to responsibility –
“Do you love me?”

“You know everything; you know I love you.”

“Feed my sheep.”
And he told him something else – he told him that it would cost him his life. And standing there by the lake, just as they had three years before, Jesus once more said to Peter,
“Follow me.”

And again, Peter did – this time, knowing all that it might mean, he didn’t shrink back; he didn’t run; he didn’t deny Jesus. He followed him to prison, to trial, and to death, crucified upside down at the hands of the Romans under Nero.

Constancy: Peter, who had denied Jesus, turned out to be as strong as a rock.

Jesus can change people in ways that don’t seem possible. We see this in the unlikely collaboration of Peter and Paul. Paul was a well-educated and sophisticated Jew and a Roman citizen. Peter was an uneducated fisherman from Galilee. Peter believed Jesus was the Messiah; Paul wanted to kill people like him. 2000 years later, we remember them together on June 29, the Feast of St. Peter and St. Paul.

Our national cathedral is the Cathedral Church of St. Peter and St. Paul. How did they end up together, these two who started out so diametrically opposed to each other?

Paul had thrown people in prison and approved of executing followers of Jesus, trying to protect his faith from those he felt were trying to destroy it - until Jesus met him on the road and turned him around. Paul then became a wholehearted follower of Jesus and studied under those he had tried to have killed, including Peter, submitting to their leadership. Amazingly, they let him in and taught him – and then sent him out with their blessing to preach to others.

It ended up mostly being Gentiles who listened to him, and this created another complicated issue for the Church. Lots of people weren’t sure Gentiles should be included, or if they were, perhaps they should submit to the Jewish customs also. In Acts, Peter has a vision, followed by an encounter with the family of Cornelius, a centurion, that leads him to accept the idea of Gentiles being part of the Church, but it wasn’t easy for him. Paul tells about confronting Peter for not being consistent in his acceptance of Gentile Christians. They had a very public argument about it. But when the church leaders gather for a council in Jerusalem, it’s Peter who stands up first to speak on behalf of the Gentiles.

For his part, Paul was also putting his neck out there in support of the Gospel being for everyone. During his travels, he was arrested, beaten, put in prison, stoned, and exiled – several times – before being beheaded, for preaching that Jesus was the Savior of the whole world: Jew and Gentile alike. According to tradition, Paul was also executed in Rome under Nero, the same year as Peter. Being a Roman citizen, he was granted the right to have his head cut off rather than be crucified. The Jew who had approved killing to protect the Jewish faith from the Gospel in the end died proclaiming it to people who weren’t even Jews.

Peter and Paul had different backgrounds, different gifts and failings, and different missions in the Church. Both worked, in different contexts, to spread the good news that Jesus had saved everyone in the world from sin. When you have a message like that, it’s ridiculous to fight over logistics.

We have the same message to share. We have different backgrounds, different gifts and failings, and different missions in the Church. We live and work in different contexts. Peter and Paul’s collaboration is an example for us of the unity we pray for and work towards.

Jesus’ words to Peter and to Paul - and to us - are clear.
“Why are you persecuting me?”
“Do you love me? …Feed my sheep.”
Our prayer and our response should mirror theirs: Lord, open our eyes to ways we injure you in our conflicts; give us strength and courage to follow you despite our fears… “that we may serve you in unity, constancy and peace.” (BCP 363, Eucharistic Prayer A)

Amen

----------------
Extra! Extra!

"Stained glass bluegrass" group Daily & Vincent singing "Don't you want to go to heaven when you die?" - partly coming from today's gospel text:

Here's another one: "Peter, Do you love me?" by The Primitives

John 21:15-19 in American Sign Language.

Bless the dying

5th Sunday in Lent, Year C - Readings

Mary anoints Jesus' feet with aromatic oil and wipes them with her hair; the house fills with the fragrance of the perfume. What is she doing? Jesus explains that she is anointing him for burial.

Not long before, Mary had rubbed the same kind of oil on her brother Lazarus's feet and helped wrap his body with spices in long strips of cloth before they buried him. Earlier, when Lazarus was sick, they had sent word to Jesus, but he hadn't come, and her brother died. She cried for days. Then finally Jesus came, and he raised her brother from the dead.

Now, they are all here together again, in Bethany, a small town outside Jerusalem, where Jesus knows his death is waiting. This evening, about a week before Passover, he has come to his friends' home for dinner. Lazarus is sitting at the table; Martha is serving the food. Judas is glaring at his weirdo little sister, who has now untied her hair, and perfume is filling the house.
Before we go further, I want to clarify some mix-ups that you may have about Mary and about this situation.
You are not alone (but you are also not correct) if you think this is Mary Magdalene. You're also wrong if you assume she is or ever was a prostitute. But this is not completely your fault; it used to be an official interpretation, articulated by Pope Gregory in a sermon in 591. Now, however, people officially agree this interpretation was wrong, but it's hard to change a story people have become so committed to. ("Mary Magdalene: Saint or Sinner?")

Why did the Pope say these women (Mary of Bethany, Mary Magdalene and another woman in Luke's gospel) were all the same? One actual theory is that there were just too many Marys and it was confusing, so the church combined them to clean up the story.
There are a lot of Marys in the Bible: there's Mary, the mother of Jesus, Mary Magdalene, Mary the wife of Clopas, Mary the mother of Joses and Salome, and "the other Mary" as well as this Mary – Mary of Bethany. But you can't just amalgamate them.
Imagine if we decided: It's too confusing to have three Carols in our congregation. From now on, let's just say they are all the same Carol. Won't that make things clearer?
We also have several Johns: we even have several Father Johns in our history. Why not, for the sake of economy, just combine them all into one conglomerate priest we could name "Fr. John William Bedingfield Sonnen" – "Fr. John" for short. And if there are priests whose names we don't remember, they can also be included as part of "Fr. John."


This is basically what happened to Mary of Bethany. But she is her own person, and who she is and what she does in this story are important in the Gospel, which is also part of our story.
We are Christians; Jesus is the Christ, and Mary of Bethany is someone who acted toward Jesus in a way that was exactly appropriate. As Episcopalians, we also strive to act in ways that are exactly appropriate in each situation – so it would be good for us to pay attention to Mary of Bethany.

Who was Mary of Bethany, and what allows her to respond to Jesus in a way that is so fitting?
Mary of Bethany is that same Mary of Mary & Martha fame – she sat a Jesus' feet while her sister was busy in the kitchen, and when Martha complained to Jesus that he should make her help with the work, Jesus said, Leave her alone; she's doing the right thing.

One thing I learned from Bishop Doyle's scripture reflections this week was that some scholars say Mary is also Judas Iscariot's sister. Imagine that! What a family group: Mary & Martha, Lazarus, and Judas. And their dad is Simon the Leper.
In this story, Judas is complaining about his sister's behavior. She has basically just poured a year's salary down the drain as far as he's concerned, so he complains to Jesus about the waste. Like he'd said to Martha, Jesus tells Judas, Leave her alone - she's doing exactly the right thing.


A lot of commentaries make what I consider to be a patronizing and idiotic assumption that when Mary poured the perfumed oil on Jesus feet, she had really no understanding of what she was doing or why.
I think she knew what she was doing. There is a long tradition of people, particularly the prophets, acting out messages: Jeremiah wearing a yoke to illustrate Israel's enslavement, Hosea marrying a prostitute to show how God is faithful to his unfaithful people, Ezekiel making a tiny model of Jerusalem and besieging it, and on and on – and they all did these things intentionally, putting the meaning into words later.
In the same way, Jesus put into words the meaning of Mary's actions, to clarify what she was doing and why. Every week, we do something similar when we participate in the Eucharist to remember Jesus' sacrifice for us and the new life we have in his new life: "We remember his death. We proclaim his resurrection…" Actions help us remember, and the words explain the meaning.

When it comes to memory, the senses are the best triggers - and the most powerful is the sense of smell. Nothing can pull you so powerfully or so quickly back into a particular time or place as a familiar smell. In this story, it's clear that people remembered the smell of the perfume filling the hosue, because they specifically wrote that into the story. The smell was a powerful part of their memory of what happened there. What might it have triggered for them on that night?

If people at that time were familiar with preparing bodies for burial, those smells would already be associated for them pretty powerfully, but especially for that particular family. Remember, it was not long ago that Lazarus had been raised from the dead – but before that, he died and had to be anointed for burial.

Lazarus himself was at the table that night; what would the smell have triggered for him? He was the one who had been embalmed in those oils and spices. As he sat there, maybe he smelled their sharp scent stinging his nostrils and was back in the dark of the tomb again, waking up bound head to toe, trying to suck air through layers of linen cloth around his face, struggling upright and pulling at the shroud, lurching forward and suddenly blinking in the sunlight. And now, with that same smell filling the air, Lazarus watches his sister anoint with embalming perfume the feet of the man who brought him back from death.
Martha stands nearby, the smell taking her even a few days further back, to the day of her brother's death: no time to grieve, too much to do, but then working together with her sister to prepare his body for burial, closing his beautiful eyes and then finally binding his face in white linen cloth. When Lazarus came out of the tomb four days later, restored – it was like a dream. After Jesus brought her brother back, it seemed impossible to imagine that smell ever coming into their home again – but here it was, filling her with fresh grief, even though her brother was sitting at the table in front of her, alive. How is it possible to equate that smell with Jesus? How could it be possible that he would die?

This is a family very recently acquainted with death, so it may be that not everybody needed to have it explained. Except Judas – all he could smell was money. But possibly for the others, a much deeper realization was settling in. Just because Lazarus had been raised, that didn't mean death would never touch them again. It would – very soon.
Mary paid attention and knew Jesus well enough to realize that this man, whom they loved and who had done so much for them, was preparing to die. As impossible as that seemed to be to imagine or accept, she had already accepted it and she had made preparations. Now, though she didn't want it to be, the time was right, and the house began to fill with the fragrance as she poured out her offering of love and grief.

Some of the most beautiful and mysterious works we perform as a Church are our prayers and service for those who are dying. Many of you have experience of offering this kind of service to those you love.
Mary of Bethany blessed Jesus in this way. May we take her as a model for how to "bless the dying, soothe the suffering and pity the afflicted." (BCP p.134 from the service of Compline in the Daily Office)
Amen.
Given to St. John's, Silsbee on March 21, 2010

Shine in our hearts

Shine in our hearts, Lord Jesus, and light us up so that you shine out of us as well. Amen

Readings
Let's reflect a bit today on theophany – that's a word for things like what we just read, Moses seeing God face to face and the disciples seeing Jesus transfigured into light and talking to Moses and Elijah, and God's voice coming out of a cloud.
Theophany is when God reveals himself in ways that we can't deny, when God shows up in ways that freak us out because they are so real, when something happens that moves us so deeply, we either say or do idiotic things trying to make some kind of response - or we don't' talk about it at all because we can't find any words that will work to really convey what happened.
You may not often talk about those experiences, or maybe you only tell one other person or a couple of people you really trust, but there is no way you can ever forget what you saw or what you heard or what you felt in that moment. And there's no way you can go back to how it was not knowing that things like that are real. Even though later, you may question whether you dreamed it or imagined it, deep down you know you didn't make it up.
And I think we hope that what we experience in moments like that is the true reality. We hope that what we see around us in mundane daily life is just a pale reflection of the way things really are, what life really is at the core. The difficulty in hope, though is it's a (seemingly) very fragile thing, and you hesitate to lay it out completely because you're not sure it could survive disappointment. Or maybe you know somehow deeply that if you completely hope for all you desire, there's no way you could stay in control – you'd be at the mercy of how God responds. And if you laid out your deepest hope to God, you couldn't stay aloof from him and safe from what you fear would happen if you found that God either doesn't want or isn't able to fulfill what you hope for – that your hope may in fact be foundationless. You think your hope is what keeps you alive, and you couldn't survive losing it.
So you hedge your prayers, you pray for what seems reasonable, for what God couldn't refuse; you pray in ways that give God an "out" in case he doesn't answer or doesn't want to or maybe isn't actually able to – because maybe he doesn't actually exist …
But why do you think we have hopes if there isn't actually a reality they're based on? Thomas Aquinas hashed this question out from both the theological and philosophical point of view, and he says we're right to hope - because God does exist and God is good – and he hasn't made a desire without its object. We have hope because there is such a thing as its fulfillment. Aquinas says that if we have a desire, not only does its object exist, but it's attainable and it's also good – in fact, it's intended. God isn't cruel – he hasn't made us so that we hope for things that don't exist or are bad for us or that he has no intention of giving us – so that we'll eternally be frustrated in our deepest desires.
No, God is good, and he's given us good desires, and he's also put in us a desire for himself as the greatest good, so when moments of theophany happen, we are getting a glimpse, a taste of what is most deeply true about God's relationship to us and his love for us.
So, if what we hope for is predicated on a real object, then its fulfillment is possible, and if in fact, this fulfillment was designed and intended by God and is in God's power to grant, then we should have no fear in asking for it – because it's already what God also wants: our wholeness, our integration. What you most deeply desire… already is – and is in God's power to give you.
Are you willing to risk asking for it?
And I mean hopes – those things you most deeply ache for, that you don't think are even reasonable, that you don't think you have any business asking God for because there's no way they could be accomplished. It would take a miracle…
That's what I'm talking about –what kind of church is this if it's not about miraculous expectation? So I'll tell you what I've started doing as a result of this thought process: I've started asking God for what I hope for St. John's: for you as a community and you as individuals. I invite you to do the same… Hope everything you can imagine for us and ask God to do it. And don't hedge or make qualifications to "let God off the hook" in case it doesn't happen – that is your fear and attempt to control the situation so that you can't be disappointed. Instead, try risking disappointment on God.
I'm praying that God starts to breathe on your hearts so that the little embers of hope in there start heating you up inside and even starting to hurt – some of the prophets have said God's word can feel like a fire in your bones. I'm hoping that what he desires for us begins to burn inside us also, until it starts to shine out in our faces and in what we say and what we do. What are y'all waiting for anyway? "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you'll return."

An interesting thing about fire, which I've learned from the firefighters in Vidor, is that it doesn't even have to touch its fuel to ignite it. A fire in one spot can gradually heat an entire area, and anything that can be fuel, when it reaches its ignition temperature, will spontaneously combust at that point. So, in a room where there's a fire in one corner, when the entire room reaches a certain temperature, will completely erupt in flame everywhere.

It's called flashover. Here is another video showing fire behavior leading up to a rollover (burning across the ceiling) and then a flashover (everything erupting in flame).

You know somebody's been burning churches in east Texas, and the interesting thing about that, I think, is they're confusing a symbol of God's power with the thing itself, as though a fire in a church building would destroy the Church. It's the same mistake people make when they try to kill Christians – when they tried to kill Christ. In our worship, fire represents to us God's presence with us in the Holy Spirit, and at Jayde's baptism last week, we lit a candle to symbolize the light of Christ in her heart. Fire is a symbol of God's presence because, like fire, God is not safe, not predictable.
Talking about flashover, maybe Pentecost was something like that. My prayer is that during Lent, God will breathe on you and start a little fire in a corner of your heart, and we'll see what happens by Pentecost.
Amen.

Given to St. John's, Silsbee

February 14, 2010

What is that to you and me?

 2nd Sunday after the Epiphany, Year C

Readings

Jesus, you turned huge vats of water into wine for a wedding feast – and you gave your own blood as wine for us to drink: May we not limit how you choose to answer our needs. Amen.

"They have no wine."

Jesus and his mother have been invited to a wedding in Cana, a few miles from where they live – maybe like from Silsbee to Lumberton. His disciples are there, too. Everybody's talking, dancing, celebrating - doing whatever people do at wedding parties in Galilee in the first century. They're drinking, we know that – because at some point, the wine runs out. And this is not a good thing.

In five or ten, maybe fifteen minutes, however long it takes for a few people to ask for refills and notice that they're not getting any - the guests are going to realize the problem. And when that happens, word will start to circulate; people will start complaining, making snide remarks, and then they'll start to leave  early...
At some point, the groom will figure out what's happening, but by then, he's already toast. Later, or maybe right then, he'll yell at the steward for not ordering enough wine, and the steward will smack the servants for not making it last longer. But that won't change the fact that the groom has been totally humiliated in front of his new wife and all of her family and her family's friends and all of his family and their friends: in short, everybody they both know and some people they don't… On the day of his wedding! When his family is trying to IMPRESS everyone, not give them a reason to laugh at him.
Maybe his wife will forgive him… Maybe. But do you think his in-laws will let him forget? Ever?


But all of that is five or ten, maybe fifteen minutes in the future...
Right now, at this moment, only the servants know – and Mary.
How does Mary know? Maybe she's one of those people who pays attention to things other people don't notice, like an expression of concern on a servant's face when he pours her what seems to be the last of the wine in his jug. Who knows, but anyway, she notices the problem before the rest of the guests know. And what does she do? She goes over to her son and taps him on the shoulder, "They have no wine."

The implication seems to be "so do something."
But how does Jesus respond?
"Woman, what is that to you and me?"


It's true, Jesus is God's son, but there may be a lot he hasn't learned yet about being human – at least not from personal experience. The word is, he emptied himself completely to become completely one of us, which may have meant he had to learn how to see out of our eyes. Becoming like us in every way except sin may have meant he had to learn, like anyone else, how to read people and interpret situations. So, at 30 years old, sitting at a wedding a few miles from his home, maybe Jesus wasn't looking far enough into that statement "They have no wine" to see what it could mean in terms of someone else's humiliation – and maybe his experience at that point in his life hadn't led him to fully understand yet what kind of suffering humiliation might be, such that it would be worth stopping, even if it wasn't directly his concern.


He will certainly learn... Give him a few years, and he'll learn all about human nature's capacity to brutalize and humiliate and tear each other to pieces. And he'll also learn how people can wash their hands of another's suffering when it seems not to be their concern.


But now, eating with his friends at a party, before his ministry has become public, before he's become anybody's hero – or anybody's villian, it may be that his mother knows a bit more than he does about the experience of human suffering and humiliation. It's one more thing – maybe one last thing, she teaches him.
Who more than Mary would know about humiliation – and the powerless anger that comes with it - to be talked about all over the place, to have the conversation stop when you walk up, to know people are saying and assuming all kinds of things about you that you have no chance to refute. Certainly it was a blessing that the angel explained the plan to Joseph, but I doubt the rest of the town was informed.


Humiliation is so awful, a lot of people would prefer death. "I wish I could just curl up and die!" Really, if you think about it, you only have to die once, and it's over with. But humiliation can go on and on... Nine months must have been an eternity for Mary. What she went through must have made her sensitive to others' humiliation – and perhaps here at the wedding, she taught her son to see it too.


"Woman, what is that to you and to me?" It was nothing to him; why should it be anything to her? But for some reason it was something to her. She didn't say another word to him, just turned to the servants; "Do whatever he tells you." And why should anyone have listened to her? – except sometimes, you can just feel that something serious is at stake, something you don't understand but you know you'd better respect. So he says, "Fill the jars with water" - and they fill them.


Maybe Jesus didn't completely know where his mom was coming from, but he loved her and respected her well enough to listen and do something, if only because it was a concern to her. And maybe this was about more than just wine.


Nowhere in the text does it say this, but I imagine Mary taking Jesus aside later and saying, "Son, there's a lot you don't know about what we went through with you..."


I don't know if that's a conversation that ever took place, but somehow he learned to recognize and show compassion for people who were being humiliated. Think about how he treated the Samaritan woman he met at the well, or the woman caught in adultery who officials pushed in front of him in the temple. Remember how he responded to Nicodemus, who crept in at night to see Jesus for fear of what his colleagues might say. To all of these people, Jesus explained that God's not out to punish and shame us; we've all been hurt and made mistakes, and God loves us and wants to make us well. That's the point. This is a hospital for sick people, not Survivor Island. "Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him." (John 3:17)


Making wine out of water - that's impressive, and no doubt the groom WAS impressed. But I imagine what he appreciated more was being saved from humiliation and being given the chance to start his marriage on a high note. This first of Jesus' miraculous signs not only shows God's abundant, extravagant provision for our needs, even seemingly insignificant ones – it also shows God's compassion, pointing to the nature of God's love – which is often characterized as 'loving-kindness."


This miraculous sign happened at a wedding, and I think there's something to notice about that, too. More important that wine, in long-term relationships, is kindness. Loving feelings fade out at times; what makes relationships last and grow stronger are loving actions – and love often takes the form of kindness. It's difficult to be kind when you're irritated, but at those times it's more important than ever. Kindness is one of the fruits of the spirit, like love. But love can be hard to grasp at times. Kindness is more concrete. Like outreach. It's not directly love, but it's certainly moving in that direction.


After his resurrection, when Jesus and his disciples were having breakfast on the beach, Jesus asked Peter, "Do you love me?" And Peter said "Yes."
Jesus told him, "Feed my sheep."
Then Jesus asked him again, and a third time, "Do you love me?"
"Lord, you know I love you."
"Feed my sheep."


Peter had gotten past the first major obstacle, learning not to just love himself, but to love God, and Jesus was trying to move him from there to also love his neighbor, and he was teaching Peter in the same way his mother had taught him.
"Peter, maybe you don't love them – you don't have concern for them, but you love me – and I have concern for them. So for my sake, look after them, feed them." 


In other words, folks, be kind to each other here.
In other words, when you see someone else's need or suffering, don't ask, "What concern is that to you and me?" Instead, remember your love for Jesus, and "Whatever he tells you, do."


Amen
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Given to St. John's, Silsbee - Jan 17, 2010