Epiphany 2C
In the name of God, who is joy and love. Amen.
Forgive me if I’ve told this story – now, almost seven years into our time together, I sometimes forget what’s been said and left unsaid. But reading through the Gospel for today put my mind back to my first time visiting Israel and Palestine. That “holy land” is often on my mind, but after the news this week of brokered and tentatively holding peace deals, it’s been a little more front of mind than it sometimes is.
But, on that first trip to Jerusalem, I was taking a course at St. George’s College – a ministry of the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem and the Middle East. The course was called “Holy Fire” because it culminated in one particular liturgical climax on the day before Easter Day, when the “Holy Fire” would be kindled in the structure traditionally believed to have been the tomb of Jesus in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher – before being distributed as the Easter light around the world.
Throughout the course, we studied Christian – mostly Orthodox Christian – expressions of Holy Week and Easter as compared to our own Anglican traditions. My favorite example of the level of the deep dive we took into these liturgies is that on Maundy Thursday that year, we attended foot washing liturgies in seven different traditions!
But our work, like all the work of Holy Week, really started with Palm Sunday. And it was the most memorable Palm Sunday of my life. All of the different Christian traditions represented in Jerusalem, including many visiting from around the world like me, took part in one, mega-ecumenical Palm Sunday procession from the top of the Mount of Olives, down through the Kidron Valley, and up into the Old City of Jerusalem – where the different traditions would break apart and go to their own houses of worship to celebrate the day and to mark the beginning of Holy Week.
There were tens of thousands of people, and if you weren’t a part of some bigger group, you could just join in with pretty much any group you liked. My friend and I who were traveling together spent some time exploring the different groups, and you could see their different personalities on display. The Roman Catholics were wearing vestments and marching in formation with their hands folded in prayer while chanting in Latin.
But we ended up deciding to make the journey with a group of Brazilians. We had no idea who they were. Neither of us understood Portuguese, so we had no idea what they said or sang. But what we did know was that they seemed to be having fun. They were smiling and playing guitars and singing and dancing all the way on the journey. We didn’t join them because of any theological connections, or because we supported their political beliefs, or anything else. We just joined in with them because they were having fun.
Sometimes I think it’s easy for us to forget that in the church: one sign of the acknowledged presence of the Holy Spirit is joy. God celebrates joy. God joins us in our joy and rejoices with us in our joy.
Of course, it’s also true that God is with us in our sorrow and in our pain. God lives in the comfort that’s offered to those who are afflicted by the hardness of life. God is there for us to turn to when we’re feeling challenged and burdened. But I think that’s usually a little easier for us to wrap our minds around.
The blasé, and frankly patronizing way that that’s been talked about in popular culture is with the expression, “There are no atheists in foxholes.” Of course, that’s not true, and it’s dismissive of and disrespectful to all kinds of religious beliefs – including our own. But the underlying point is that in times of trouble, it’s easy to remember to turn to God for help. Turning to God in times of joy takes a little more practice.
But it’s important to remember the story of the Miracle at Cana that we read about today. It was Jesus’ first miracle. So his entrance on the scene was almost entirely about furthering joy.
The story is probably familiar. Jesus is with his mother at a wedding feast. In that place and in those days weddings were extravagant affairs that lasted for days on end. But at this particular wedding, they’d misjudged the amount of wine they needed and they were running out. So Mary, in a way that’s hard not to hear like a proud mother asking her kid to show off their dance lessons to the family, asks her son to make some more wine.
Like any good son, even though he protests a little, he eventually gives in. He has the workers fill giant stone vessels with water. Then, when they draw it out and take it to their boss, he not only finds more wine, but he’s impressed because it’s particularly good wine – the best of the party so far.
Now, I’ve heard plenty of sermons on this text through the years – I’ve even preached a few myself. I’ve discussed it in Bible classes in college and seminary. I’ve read commentaries and theological books that encountered this story. Even our own Book of Common Prayer references this story as an endorsement of the institution of marriage. But I’d scarcely say that was the purpose of this story. The context, certainly, but hardly the purpose.
And even with all of that experience and exploration, I can’t see any real reason for this miracle other than that it shows Jesus encouraging joy and celebration. It’s shows Jesus supporting the furtherance of a good party.
There are some who would argue against me – saying that the purpose of this story is to introduce the miraculous abilities of Jesus; that the purpose is to show God’s power. And sure – it does that. But so does every other story of Jesus’ miracles. The feeding, the healing, the casting out of the demons, the raising from the dead, and all the rest. They all showcase Jesus’ miraculous ability and they all demonstrate the power of God.
The only thing that separates this first miracle from all the others is that it’s all about joy.
As a church, just as much as anyone else, it’s easy for us to forget the joy. We talk about serious things. We deeply consider and embrace the weighty moments that life has to offer. But we should never forget that God also lives in the joy. God’s incarnation in Jesus was introduced to the world through joy. And not just during this party. Jesus’ birth was greeted with choirs of angels singing glory to God; it was greeted with the giving of special gifts.
You can’t talk about Jesus without talking about joy.
And if we want to share Jesus with the world, the best way we can start doing that is by sharing joy.
Just like my friend and I decided to follow the joy we saw down the Mount of Olives, through the Kidron Valley – the valley of the shadow of death, and finally up into Jerusalem – how can we expect anyone to want to join us on the journey of following Jesus if we don’t show them the joy that we feel from this calling? this community? this life?
We tend to turn to God first and most at the tough times of life – but the whole point of this faith is that joy is always waiting, ready for us on the other side. That Resurrection’s dawn emerges through crucifixion’s night.
So don’t forget the joy.
Don’t forget to celebrate. Don’t
forget to party. Jesus didn’t forget,
and we’re here to follow him. Amen.
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