The Second Sunday after the Epiphany C, January 19, 2025

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Ephrem Arcement
The Second Sunday after the Epiphany, January 19, 2025

• Isaiah 62:1-5
• 1 Corinthians 12:1-11
• John 2:1-11

 Click here for an audio of the sermon

     What does it tell us about God that Jesus’ first miracle was to turn water into wine…in fact, the best kind of wine? 

          For me, it makes sense that the church presents the miracle of Cana to us on this second Sunday after the Epiphany…this season of excess!  The season when light shines out like the dawn and a burning torch; when the desolate and forsaken receive more than they could have ever dreamed; when the decades of despair and unfulfilled hopes finally yield to a reality so overwhelming that the only image appropriate becomes a wedding feast where God shows up and becomes the source of divine intoxication!  If we Christians are accused of being boring, it’s certainly our fault, not God’s!

          When’s the last time you’ve ever heard that Christianity is about excess?  Probably never!  Not the excess of ego-centric desires that are self-destructive or the excess of things that weigh life down but the excess of Life itself that gushes forth from a place of inner superabundance and vitality…where joy just can’t be contained and where peace remains steady come what may. 

          For far too long Christianity has relegated the supernatural and superabundant life to a time and place after this life here on earth comes to an end…after the struggle here below, we’ll taste the new wine in the kingdom to come.  Heaven is not earth and earth not heaven.  Now here on earth we experience the cross, only then in heaven will we experience the resurrection.  Now is pain and suffering, only then will every tear be wiped away.  This is not the gospel!

          The Incarnation of Christ, along with the drama of his death and resurrection, ascension and Pentecost, means that heaven and earth now overlap and heaven begins before earth ends.  It means that we are now being transformed from glory to glory…that today is our wedding feast; today we are united to God; today our cups overflow with new wine!

          But, you may say, mine doesn’t!  Today I don’t feel like my life is overflowing with this joy, with this peace, with this new wine.  Today I feel dried up, depleted, against an insurmountable wall.  Instead of abounding in faith and hope, I’m struggling just to keep my head above water and stay in the game.  Well, the good news is that the truth goes deeper than our circumstances and our feelings.  Within us all, no matter how we feel at any given moment, churns a reservoir of new wine waiting to spring up and break through our feelings and make our lives an epiphany of God’s glory.

          But how does this happen?  Let us take a closer look at how it happened in today’s Gospel. 

          On the third day, John says (alerting us to the day of the Resurrection), at a wedding (where there is supposed to be great celebration), Mary, the mother of Jesus, is faced with her own set of circumstances that threaten to bring a quick end to the celebration.  “We’ve run out of wine!”  Wine, for the first century Mediterranean world, is the central sign of celebration and joy; an instrument which augments life and gives to it what we can’t conjure up for ourselves.  It’s the central sign of grace.  Two people coming together drawn by the covenantal bond of love should, in God’s eyes, be celebrated with this augmentation of life that wine provides.  It is God’s desire to make our lives into something we can’t make them into ourselves.

          Mary’s move in this dire circumstance is not to try to fix the problem herself.  She knows who to turn to, and she does: “They have no wine,” she tells Jesus.  And we’re a bit shocked by Jesus’ curt response: “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me?  My hour has not yet come.”  Have you ever asked something of God and felt like you’ve gotten the cold shoulder?  That’s probably a bit how Mary must have felt!  Yet, notice, she doesn’t throw a temper tantrum, and neither does she walk away in shy acquiescence.  No, she holds out the hope that Jesus will do what he thinks best given the circumstances…and says to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” 

          Let’s not overlook Jesus’ reference to his “hour.”  In the Gospel of John, this “hour” refers to the time of his crucifixion in shame which will directly result in his resurrection in glory.  And the various signs, or miracles, the miracle of Cana being the first, all precipitate these cataclysmic events.  Jesus knows that the moment he begins to perform signs that his days are numbered.  And he does them anyway…beginning here at a wedding in Cana.

          He tells the servants to fill the depleted jars with water.  Clay jars frequently in scripture represent our lives.  Here they are depleted.  Water represents what we can put into them, one of the fundamental elements of our existence.  Water sustains life.  Wine transforms life.  And when the servants draw out what they expect to be water, they get instead water transformed…wine, indeed, the best kind of wine.  And in this climactic moment of the story, John the Evangelist, adds his parenthetical exclamation: “Jesus did this in Cana of Galilee and revealed his glory.”

          This is a story about how God sees us in our circumstances that are less than ideal and even sometimes dire.  And the story is clear: it is not God’s desire that we remain in these circumstances: dried up, empty, ready to give up.  Instead, the story asks us be follow the way of Mary into the pattern of transformation.  And here is the pattern:

•    First, we must accept the invitation to the wedding.  We have to be present where love happens.

•    Second, we must be equally present to the impossible circumstances that arise.  It’s wrong for us to expect that our lives will be free from obstacles…it is through our obstacles that God is going to reveal God’s glory.

•    Third, we need to make our requests known.  And notice here, Mary’s request was not for herself; it was for the sake of all gathered together, especially the hosts and the other invited guests.

•    Fourth, we need to have faith…trust in the word of Jesus even when you don’t fully understand him.

•    And fifth, we need to leave our request in Jesus’ hands.  We need to let it go!

This posture of faith, of hope, and of love, even when our lives are depleted, becomes the recipe for the miracle of transformation.  We’re not asked to deny the harshness of reality or to try to escape it but to journey through it into a deeper reality.

          So, what does it tell us about God that Jesus’ first miracle was to turn water into wine…indeed, the best kind of wine?  It means that if we turn to Christ in our time of need and offer to him our empty, depleted clay vessels, we can expect to be filled with grace, like Mary was filled with grace, and to taste, in this life, the excessive joy of God’s new wine.

          The prophet Isaiah, like all good prophets, sees what others fail to see.  Isaiah sees God’s children ravished by their time of desolation and exile, feeling forsaken and forgotten by God who they think may have given up on them.  But Isaiah comes with a message…good news… “you shall be called by a new name”… “You shall be a crown of beauty…a royal diadem…no more called Forsaken or Desolate, but My Delight Is in Her, and Married.”  Married to whom?  Married to God, her bridegroom who rejoices over her and cherishes and protects her and causes her to shine out like burning torches of coruscating joy and peace and charity.

          The love of God is our Epiphany.  Our old name is no longer adequate to express our newfound truth.  God’s love poured out in Christ shining and illuminating all who come to receive this love become an epiphany…the excess of God manifesting itself in our everyday lives.  Heaven shines through earth through us and by this sign we reveal God’s glory and show the way for others to follow. 

          Brothers and sisters, our dark world is depending on us to live our epiphany…or, as I like to say…to coruscate: to shine out, dazzle, shimmer, burn…with the glory of God.  To be like the first Christians in the second chapter of Acts…so full of the Spirit that they were thought to be drunk with new wine.  Maybe it will be when we start living with more of this kind of excess that those floundering about in a world of darkness will find their way to the wedding feast.

Epiphany 2 B - January 14, 2024

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Luc Thuku

The Second Sunday after the Epiphany, January 14, 2024

• 1 Samuel 3:1-10(11-20)
• 1 Corinthians 6:12-20
• John 1:43-51

Click here for an audio of the sermon

 

Dear Friends we gather again this morning to celebrate the Lord’s resurrection in a Special way this season of Epiphany when we continue to remember God’s manifestation of self through His incarnate Son Jesus.

In our first reading and Gospel today, we hear of two individuals being called. The first one is Samuel who was called directly by God. As a young man and inexperienced in the ways of God, he didn’t know who was calling or how to respond but luckily he was not going about it alone. He had Eli, an experienced guide who had the spirit of discernment and who after being woken up a third time by his protege was able to discern that it was God who was calling the young man. Eli would have been angry about being woken up by Samuel repeatedly. He would have ignored him or be rude to him. Eli would have chosen to use the little ‘child psychology’ he had and tell Samuel that he was not his absent father or his judgemental mother; but he was a true priest and a true man of God! I am sure we know of people who hold positions of spiritual authority who have no time for their charges and/or who leave them insulted every time they encounter them.

Strangely enough, when Samuel eventually answered God with the response Eli had coached him to use, the message that came through was for Eli. Shocked, Samuel didn’t know what to do with the prophecy of doom directed to his mentor.

Eli’s sons Hopni and Phinehas were priests just like their father. However unlike their father, they were bad priests. Scripture actually calls them scoundrels! They kept for themselves meat that people sacrificed to God which was against the law. They carried out every imaginable atrocity including raping women who served at the tent of meeting…sounds familiar? Like some of our modern day priests and preachers, they were wolves in sheep’s clothing. Eli tried to stop them but they ignored him which means that they neither respected him. Eli should have relieved them of their priestly office but he did not and therefore God had to intervene and hence the message through young Samuel.

God may be patient, kind, merciful and long suffering but as He shows in this case, He will nor tolerate abuse of power forever. God is a defender of the oppressed, of the abused, of the despised, of the hungry and of the destitute. He will equally not tolerate sin in whatever form. Scripture tells us in 1 Peter 1:15-16 that God is holy and we too must be holy!

So what happens when the Christian becomes the oppressor? I am sure it is hard to fathom a Christian being an oppressor but remember slavery was theologically backed and condoned by preachers and good Christians practiced it; apartheid was condoned and theologically backed by preachers and good Christians went along with it…“But that is in the past” one might be tempted to say… Yes, but what about the Mexican and other Latin American immigrants, the men and women working in our ‘Christian’ owned farms as we speak despite it being a Sunday, to produce the food that our ‘Christian’ nation will most probably end up wasting? What about the Asian and African immigrants changing our elderly parents’ diapers in the nursing homes around this ‘Christian’ nation for peanuts?… “But they are fairing better here than in their ‘shithole’ countries” if I may borrow from Mr. Trump’s sick vocabulary! Yes they do I agree, but does that justify paying them wages that keep them enslaved and treatment that is at times worse than we accord our dogs and other pets? What about the African American male who cannot move anywhere near me or my business because they are threatening…just by their being? The reality my dear brother and sister is that we, good Christians that we are, have blind spots.

In many ways throughout our lives, we have been oppressed either literally or figuratively. Those moments are easy to identify. However, what we don’t see are the many instances in which we, although at times accidentally, assume the role of the oppressor. All of us are guilty. Not any single one of us is spotless and if we think we are, we are lying to ourselves and others and do not deserve the name Christian.

The second individual whose call we hear about today is Nathaniel. Nathaniel unlike Samuel did not get called by the Lord directly. There is an intermediary, Philip. In this short story about the call of Nathaniel, we encounter enthusiasm, prejudice and extraordinary insight. These three things are a reminder today that we share not only a common humanity with the people of Jesus’ time but also traits and characteristics that enliven and sometimes make our day to day lives difficult and sad. Philip and Nathaniel, just like you and me were prone to moments of enthusiasm and almost unconscious prejudice.

If we first speak about Philip before we go to the main character of our passage Nathaniel, his encounter with Jesus had been a dramatic and life changing event. Jesus was direct with him. When Jesus met him, he asked him to join the small group of followers that he was forming. Philip dropped what he was doing and followed. There may have been more to the encounter than we know that might have added to the extraordinary excitement that made Philip go to find Nathaniel. Whatever it was that impressed him so much, Philip was hooked and he was charitable enough to want his friend to come and share in his new found experience.

Nathaniel on the other hand thinks Philip has lost it. To a Jew worth the name, the people who lived in Nazareth were not only rural backward people but were also a racially mixed community, therefore impure, and hence his famous retort… “what good can come from Nazareth”. Nathaniel was just like us who encounter and even perhaps in our unguarded moments exhibit judgement. We ask each other for instance in Kenya, what good can come from such and such a tribe, in Africa, what good can come from Nigeria, and in the West what good can come from Africa or the third world! Prejudice is as old as humanity! The beauty of this particular passage, however, is that John does not attempt to whitewash the character of the disciples. Despite what we might want to, or at times do, think of them, we encounter them as real people, their beautiful and ugly sides together. The reason why Jesus chose people who demonstrate the same failings we meet in the people we encounter in our lives is the same reason he chose us.

I am sure Philip being Nathaniel’s friend knew that Nathaniel had a sarcastic side and all. He therefore risked embarrassment, humiliation and even rejection when he went to call him. He however had inner conviction that if Nathaniel could meet Jesus, He would be convinced that despite him coming from that ‘godforsaken’ town of Nazareth, he was also the Messiah, the Savior, the Redeemer that Jews had hoped for ever since the fall of Adam.

Jesus saw in Nathaniel a totally honest but blunt person. He did not allow Nathaniel’s prejudice against his home town and its people block his view of the good in him as a person. Jesus saw the potential of what Nathaniel could be. He loved and accepted him just as he was, without an attempt to change or ‘fix’ him. The encounter was so revealing and life giving to Nathaniel that he made his confession of faith there and then…”Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel”.

When we became Christians, we too encountered the living God. A courageous person like Philip, be it our parents, evangelists or missionaries cared enough about you and me to bring us to the place where God is. Jesus looked into our souls and judged you and I to be the person he was calling. Sinful as we were, Like Nathaniel, we had the potential to be the type of people Jesus calls to be his intimate followers, his beloved brothers and sisters. Filled with this knowledge, let us therefore affirm our faith again that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, our king, our redeemer and sustainer. Let us also remember that we have a duty and service to represent Jesus to others. He calls us because he knows us. Jesus calls us like Nathaniel, despite our looking down on people and our prejudices against others in our day, to be changed by our encounter with him. An encounter with Jesus calls us to engage people in the totality of their being. Whatever their race, background, class, level of education, wealth or poverty, mannerisms and behavior, all are to be brought to Jesus. We are to evangelize them holistically. True evangelism for Jesus is concerned not with ‘fixing’ people but about poverty, disease, hurt, grief, discrimination, injustice and not of least importance sin!

Paul in our second reading this morning singles out sexual sin and describes how it affects the body and spirit of the sinner. Sin displaces Jesus from our bodies, which are His temples and therefore to get our relationship with Jesus back on track when we fail, we need to repent and once again enthrone the Lord Jesus in our hearts. May we get good guides and spiritual authorities like Eli who will help us to listen and discern the Lord. May we get good Apostles like Philip who will risk all to bring us to the Savior because while we still live in this world, we all need the Savior.

Amen.

Epiphany 2 A - January 15, 2023

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Adam McCoy, OHC

Epiphany 2 A - Sunday, January 15, 2023

Isaiah 49:1-7

1 Corinthians 1:1-9

John 1:29-42

Click here for an audio version of this sermon

Today’s gospel gives us the evangelist John’s account of the Baptism of Jesus.  I’ve always thought there is something a bit “off” about it.  The accounts of Jesus’ baptism in the synoptic gospels, Matthew, Mark and Luke, are all straightforward narratives of the baptism, differing somewhat in details but each telling what happened from an eyewitness point of view.  But John is different: he gives us a curiously roundabout story, full of indirection.  John the Baptist tells us the story.  But he does not tell us the story of the baptism itself.  Rather, he tells us what he saw: “the Spirit descended from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him.”   This is a very economical text, so even more curiously, in this very compact narrative, the Baptist tells us twice - twice! - “I myself did not know him”.  “I myself did not know him”.  A point is being made here, a point about knowing.  He only knows who Jesus is because he saw the Spirit in the form of a dove.

In John’s gospel the action of the baptism isn’t actually told, but is referred to indirectly.  John the Baptist did not know who Jesus was until he, John, saw the dove descending.  And the next time he sees Jesus, it is at a distance, as Jesus is walking by, in an almost cinematic scene, the two great men passing but not actually meeting.

What can we make of all this narrative indirection?  

John’s gospel begins with the famous line, en arche en ho logos, which every seminarian hopes will be on her or his Greek translation exam.  In the beginning was the Word.  So we ponder the Word, the Word which is the light that is coming into the world. The Logos itself absorbs our attention.  But remember what happens when the Word, the light, comes into the world: “He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him.  He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him.”  The gospel of John is talking about receiving, about recognizing, about knowing.  The tragedy of the world is in not recognizing, not knowing the One who is its own creator, who is the Word on which its very existential order is based, and so not receiving Him.   

The story of the baptism of Jesus by John in the Jordan is a real life example of what it means that the world – the world including all the best people in it, even John the Baptist, whom Jesus later calls the greatest of all the prophets – the whole world, including the righteous part of it – is simply not capable of knowing, of recognizing, the Word when it comes.   

With this theme announced, John’s gospel immediately introduces John the Baptist, the herald of the coming One, whose prophetic sign is to be out in the desert, crying out in the wilderness.  Preparing the way for His coming and baptizing God’s people into their new entrance into God’s promised land.  Into a new life, a new beginning.  And, embodying the prologue’s statement about not knowing, not recognizing, John the Baptist himself does not know who the Logos is when he comes.  Twice - twice - the Baptist tells us, “I myself did not know him”.  “I myself did not know him”.  He knows him only because of the sign from heaven, and then they do not even meet.  This telling, far from being straightforward, is a miracle of indirection.  It is a description of the world we live in.  It is a description of our existential reality, our not being capable of knowing, of recognizing, God’s presence among us without God’s intervention.     

John’s account of the baptism of Jesus could be an illustration of the gospel’s insight into how the Logos enters into our world: How indirect it can be, how it is not immediately apparent even to those of us who are eagerly waiting for its appearing among us. 

What can we make of this?  Is it simply a narrative for us to puzzle over?  Is it John the evangelist’s way of dealing with John the Baptist, famous in his own time when Jesus was hardly known?  It is those, clearly.  But there is something else here as well.

One of the things seriously observant religious people, and I hope that we here this morning  qualify in this, do is to read and meditate on scripture.   One form of that, of course, is lectio divina.  We read the text as it is, try to understand it in its own context, and then let the text move us in meditation, contemplation and prayer.  It is astonishing how often even passages that seem the least promising end up opening us to new light, new life, new beginnings, new entrances into God’s promised land for us.

What draws people to faith?  I would venture that while people are searching for community, while they desire the simultaneously rational and emotional and ecstatic satisfactions of beauty, while they hope to build peace and justice, the primary thing they yearn for is assurance of God’s existence, assurance that the world we live in is God’s world, that our lives matter in an ultimate sense, that God is real and present to us.  Please forgive me, in this I am speaking of my own experience and generalizing it to all of us, but when we find God in our own lives, that finding is usually far from a straightforward story.  It is usually by indirection: the unexpected, or perhaps entirely ordinary, appearance of things in our lives that brings God’s presence to us.  Jesus was apparently one of the undifferentiated crowd of people come out to the Jordan to be baptized.  John the Baptist he did not know him - until the Spirit revealed Jesus to him.  

I suspect there is a strategy in telling this story to us the way John’s gospel does.  The Baptist and his disciples are standing in for all the people of God, all who are waiting for the Word, waiting for the light, to come among us.  We are like John the Baptist.  We want some sure sign that God is coming into the world.  We hope and we pray for God’s coming, and for the fruit of God’s presence among us in a renewed community, in beauty, order, peace, justice, and in our ecstatic union with the divine.  But it does not come on our schedule.  It does not come in our expected categories.  We don’t actually know what or who it will be, what form our encounter may take.   Like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, we may already be traveling with the Lord and do not know it until we invite him into our actual lives to share a simple meal.  He may come to us as a thief in the night, completely unexpected.  As in the parables, Jesus tells us that we will find God present in the ordinary.  We need to open our eyes to see and our ears to hear what the Spirit is filling and transfiguring right here and right now.  While we, like John the Baptist, may be ready, even eager, for the inbreaking of the Word, we have no idea what it will look like or how it may happen, or who may embody it.  

So what to do?  Well, as this story John tells suggests, there is a way.  

Get ready.  Go out into our own wilderness.  Realize who we are: God’s people.  Focus on God’s promise.  Be honest about who we have become and heed the cry to change.  Get down into the river.  Wade in the water.  Let it roll over us.  Watch for the sign of God’s presence.  We don’t know yet exactly how but we need to be ready, to be open to the unexpected.  The Word will come.  The light will shine in the darkness.  And then, when we are called, follow. 

Epiphany 2 C - January 16, 2022

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Josép Martinez-Cubero, OHC

Epiphany 2 C - Sunday, January 16, 2022

Isaiah 62:1-5

1 Corinthians 12:1-11

John 2:1-11

Click here for an audio version of this sermon

“They have no wine.” “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” Ay, no no, Jesus. That is not a response I would ever give my mother. Her response would likely be: “Nene, I don’t care about you hour. They have no wine!”

Today’s Gospel lesson is not really a story about scarcity, but a story about abundance- lavish, even excessive; about 150 gallons of first-rate wine just to keep the party going where, from our reading, we gather many are already drunk! So, I must acknowledge from the start, having a bit of struggle reconciling a biblical story about such extravagance with our current global reality of such severe scarcity in so many places. “They have no wine.” 

Mary’s presence in this story, however, is what has been speaking most to me as I’ve prayed with this story for the past few days. She appears only twice in John’s Gospel: in this passage about the wedding at Cana, and later on when she stands at the foot of the cross. These two brief appearances by Mary connect Jesus' first sign and his last breath. But through her pivotal role in this story, I can hold up the promise of God’s abundance against scarcity and need.

“They have no wine,” she says to Jesus. I get it. It’s a line that has daily incarnations in my prayer life: “They have no clean water.” “They have no food.” “He has no money.” “She has no cure.” “They have no justice.” “I have no more patience.” It is the line a pray when I feel helpless and don’t know what to do. It’s the line I pray when I feel like all I have left in me is to insist on the power of telling God the truth as I see it in my daily prayer. “They have no wine.” 

This is the thing; I know this Gospel lesson about Jesus turning water into wine reveals God’s generous nature, and the miracle constitutes the first of seven “signs” of Jesus’ divinity, and the event is the onset of the Incarnate Word’s public ministry. It is a beautiful “epiphany” story full of symbolism and eschatological significance and blah blah blah! But at the end of the day, I have no idea how to turn gallons of water into gallons of wine (not that I think that is actually possible!) But I do know how to do what Mary does. I am thankful that God has given me a well-trained tongue and the ability to speak up and say: “Something’s up.” “Things are not okay.” “There is a need here.” "They have no wine." So to me, Mary is the hero in this Gospel story, and I will tell you why.

In the ancient world, wedding feasts lasted for days, the host was expected to provide abundant food and drink for the duration of the festivities. To run out of wine early was a dishonor and a disgrace. Scholars have many opinions and interpretations about what Mary’s connection to the bride and groom may have been, but no one really knows. And to me, the point is that she is one guest among many, and even amid celebration and distraction, she notices need. She perceives the likelihood of embarrassment and humiliation before Jesus does. “They have no wine.”

Mary notices need, and then, she tells the right person. I’m sure must of you know that stupid song, “Mary did you know?” Well, she does know! She knows who her son is, and she is confident of his ability and his generosity to meet the need.

  

Mary notices need, she tells the right person, and then, she persists. I don’t get Jesus’ initial reluctance to help when Mary first approaches him. Perhaps he is not too eagered to begin the countdown to the crucifixion. But whatever the case may be, Mary isn’t faced by her son’s reluctance. There is a problem, right here, right now, and she insists on a change of plans.

Mary notices need, she tells the right person, she persists, and then, she trusts. She doesn’t set out any expectations. She doesn’t tell Jesus what to do. She offers no suggestions about what kind of wine they need. Mary trusts her son’s loving, generous character, even when he initially shows reluctance.

Mary notices need, she tells the right person, she persists, she trusts, and then, she invites obedience: “Do whatever he tells you,” she says to the servants. There was no running water in the ancient world, and stone jars that could hold 20 to 30 gallons of water must have been huge and heavy! Thinking about how difficult the servants’ task must have been, reminds us of the committed obedience that alone makes faith possible.

So, in this Gospel story, Mary acts as a catalyst, holding open the door for something to happen, the door to a new possibility, the door to a new life, the door of hope. She serves as a great example for all of us- to notice need, to tell the right person, to persist, to trust. And sometimes we need to be the ones who obediently carry the stone jars and pour water even when we can’t even imagine that it will make a difference. And sometimes we need to be the chief steward recognizing new wine and encouraging others to taste new life.

"They have no wine."  “Do whatever he tells you.”  May we live in the tension between these two lines, that illumined by God’s Word and Sacraments, may shine with the radiance of Christ's glory. We can keep human need before our eyes, and tell God hard truths, even as we celebrate the abundance of God’s love. ¡Que así sea, en el nombre del Padre, del Hijo y del Espíritu Santo!

Amen+

Epiphany 2 B - January 17. 2021

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Josép Martinez- Cubero, OHC

Second Sunday after Epiphany  - Sunday, January 17, 2021

1 Samuel 3:1-10(11-20)

1 Corinthians 6:12-20

John 1:43-51

Click here for an audio version of this sermon

“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Can anything good, redemptive, and just come out of the present brokenness in which we are all living? What is our call as Christians? These are the questions stemming out of the lectionary readings for me on this second Sunday after the Epiphany, the time manifestation, revelation and seeing what really is. What is our call as Christians? We are called to love. And that does not mean being nice, although in many circumstances being nice is a good thing. But Jesus said that the greatest commandment is “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.” The second is like it: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Never did he say: “You shall be nice to the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.” “You shall be nice to your neighbor as yourself.” This is important because if, as baptized Christians, we are to renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God, and we are to renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God, and we are to renounce all sinful desires that draw us from the love of God, then we must call out evil for what it is. That is the loving act right now, and it will surely not seem very nice to a lot of people. 

Some twelve years ago, I was teaching a voice lesson in my Manhattan apartment on a Saturday morning when I received a phone call from a mother of one of the Pied Piper Actors Society members. The Pied Piper Actors Society was the leadership and service youth group of the Pied Piper Children’s Theatre, the community outreach program I founded and ran at Holy Trinity Church in Manhattan for 15 years. Sam was at the hospital. His stomach had been pumped due to alcohol poisoning. 

The story is that a group of about ten Pied Piper Actors Society teenagers plotted and succeeded in getting a hold of a substantial amount of vodka and beer, going to the park after dark and having a party. Most of them had never drank before and were curious. So they proceeded to get very drunk and chaos ensued. There was a lot of vomiting, passing out… you know, that sort of thing. Two of them who had not drank, thanks to the fact that they tried and thought it was vile and didn’t like it, became very frightened about what was happening to their friends and began to try to get a hold of parents to confessed what had gone on, and to let the parents know they were in trouble and needed help. A passerby saw one of the teenagers on the ground barely breathing and called 911.

To say I was beyond stunned by the news is an understatement! The kids of the Pied Piper Actors Society did this? The group known in the entire area of Northern Manhattan for their good behavior, maturity and outstanding qualities of leadership did this?? Oh I was angry! It was one of the worst experiences of my life. It was also one of the most important and oddly life-giving experiences of my life. I came to know a lot about my relationship with God and a capacity for love I didn’t know I had, and experienced first-hand what the love of Christ sometimes looks like. And I’ll say this: it did not look nice! 

I immediately called an emergency meeting with all the parents of the kids involved. All came. I know now that many of them were thinking: “Oh God, Rey-Rey is really angry!” Others thought I was meeting with them to dismiss their kids from the program. (It did cross my mind.) And yes, my ego attended that meeting, too! “Do you realize how damaging this could have been to the reputation of this theatre program?” I remember asking. But by the grace of God, I was able to get passed my ego, and ask for their help. I told them I needed to turn that horrible incident into something wholesome and good. 

Punishment for the sake of retribution has never made sense to me. But I did want those kids to meet some serious consequences for their selfish behavior. I also urged the parents to examine their own drinking behavior, as I needed to do mine. The parents were amazing. It was a wonderful, heartfelt dialogue, and they offered many good suggestions. In the end, I decided those kids needed to work. After some investigating on how much alcohol each kid had actually drunk, I created a chart that indicated how many hours of volunteering work each of them would have to do according to how much they drank that night. A certain amount of hours of manual labor had to be done at the theatre, the other hours had to be done at a not-for-profit organization approved by me.

I called a meeting of the members of the Actors Society for the next day, in the evening. It was not optional. They had to be there if they wanted to remain in the group and wanted to continue participating in the theatre. All came. Yes, they were terrified, and that was OK with me. The ones who had not been part of the incident were wondering what was going on. I called the names of each of the ones who were in trouble and asked them to stand up. I explained to the group what they had done, the entire time talking through my clenched teeth. I gave them “their sentence” and explained to them the reason for it. All of the energy they had spent engaging in such incredibly selfish, hurtful and hateful behavior had to be redeemed by energy spent in good actions for the theatre, the community and themselves. We got a lot of great work done in the months that followed!

But more happened. I brought in a drug and alcohol counselor to have several sessions with the kids so they could learn more about the subject. I engaged in one-on-one conversations with each and every one of those kids to hear them and get to know more about their experiences at school, at their homes, etc. Why? Because I knew it was not my job to change them, but it was my responsibility to be a good role model and to make it very clear to them where I stood. 

I will forever be grateful to have been guided by the Holy Spirit to live out the love of Christ throughout that whole situation- a love that requires boldness, engagement and accountability instead of avoidance, politeness, and niceness. 

What is our call as Christians? We are called into relationship with a God whose capacity to restore and resurrect has no limits. I don’t know how to exist without believing that there is no place, time, circumstance, or situation that is beyond God’s ability to redeem. Can anything good come out of last week’s events on Capitol Hill? The answer is YES! This must be our hope as people of faith- a hope we must model for the world. And that hope requires us to speak prophetically, especially those of us with a platform to speak publicly to hundreds of people about the Jesus of love, hope, and justice and to call out the evil of a false Christianity that leads rioters to enter the nation’s Capitol Building raising a cross and signs that read “Jesus Saves.” Lord have mercy!! Throughout his ministry Jesus called out religious hypocrisy at every turn, and so must we if there is to be any redemption from what is happening in this country.

Last week we saw first-hand the spiritual forces of wickedness our baptism requires us to renounce. Christian nationalism is heresy, and a sin. White supremacy and any kind of racism are wicked forces of evil. Christianity and white people are not entitled to any privilege in our civil government. God does not love Americans or white people more than anyone else. Anti-Semitism and Islamophobia are anti-Christian and are sins. Any kind of homophobia or discrimination against LGBTQ+ people is anti-Christian and it is a sin. Nativism and nationalism are anti-Christian and are sins. Saying one is a Christian while, in any way being a part of, supporting, or covering up these evils is a horrible hypocrisy! No, I do not need to listen to or try to understand anyone’s racism or homophobia. As a Christian, I am called to call it out for what it is, and for the love of God, invite them to repent.

May we, like Samuel, who obeyed the call to name corruption in his own religious home, and to call out sin for what it was, even if it meant to turn the institution that sustained him up-side-down, live boldly into the call of Epiphany and speak prophetically, that we may see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending. 

¡Que así sea en el nombre del Padre, del Hijo y del Espíritu Santo!

Amen+  

The Second Sunday after Epiphany - January 19, 2020

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Maximillian Esmus, n/OHC
The Second Sunday after Epiphany - January 19, 2020

Isaiah 49:1-7
1 Corinthians 1:1-9
John 1:29-42

Click here for an audio version of this sermon.

We have here an “Epiphany moment.” The glory of God is glimpsed in Christ, discipleship begins, the foundation of the Church is laid. And it all happens so quickly! The Baptizer points at Jesus and says, Behold, the Lamb of God! Two of his disciples get the message and go after him. Jesus looks at them, says, “What are you looking for?” and they reply, “Rabbi, where are you staying?” He simply says, “Come and see.”

They spend the rest of the day with him, and the gospel community is born.

The very first act of Jesus in this Gospel is to turn and look at these two disciples. I speculate that they became fully convinced this was the bona fide Anointed One at that moment when Jesus looked them in the eye. Just then, they caught a glimpse of the eternal, and they knew that the salvation of Israel was at hand, that the Lamb of God was here, taking away the sin of the world.

And Jesus, in turn, saw the image of the Divine reflected back to him in their eyes. This is one of Jesus’s greatest superpowers: his ability to look at you and see you for who you really are, and to love you for it.

When Jesus asks what they seek, the disciples don’t request from this Rabbi a word of wisdom, nor a Messianic holy war manifesto. They seek to know where he is staying. It is about being with Jesus, and Jesus being with them, mutually beholding each other.

The initiation of this community of mutual beholding is almost shockingly direct. I want to know, How is it that these two are able to see Jesus for who he really is? How is it that they are able to respond so unreservedly to Jesus’ equally unhesitating acceptance?

I think that the disciples were able to see and respond because they were well prepared for this moment by a good teacher: John the Baptist, the preacher of repentance. John, who it was said would “go before the Lord to prepare the way, to give God’s people knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins.”

I believe the disciples’ eyes were open to Jesus in part because they had acknowledged their human frailty and received God’s promise of forgiveness in those cleansing waters, and in so doing, had received the gift of humility. They had set aside all pretense. Humility, the honest acknowledgement of my situation as a beloved, broken, sinful, forgiven child of God, is a crucial element in my readiness to behold the Lamb of God.

What does the path of repentance – the path toward humility – look like? The Gospel does not give us any details about the paths that originally brought those two disciples to the Jordan river to be cleansed. We can imagine and speculate about that. We can think of our own stories of forgiveness and repentance.

I’d like to share one such story that comes the realm of legend and myth. It comes from one of the greatest epic myths of Western Culture, or at least, one with great influence on me from my childhood. As in all myths, the characters in this story are archetypes, whose experiences are universally relevant.

The story begins:

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, there lived a young Jedi knight named Anakin Skywalker. He was a skilled Jedi, strong in the force, and advancing well in his training. He and his wife, Padmé, a formidable politician, were expecting their first child. One day, Anakin had a nightmare, a prophetic vision that Padmé would die in childbirth.

Anakin became greatly distressed, and began acting out in anger at the unfairness of this fate. How could this happen to him? How could Anakin, so strong in the Force, be dealt such a devastating loss? In his desperation to resist Padmé’s fate, Anakin abandons the ideals of his Jedi masters and begins to seek the security of cultivating power and control.

When the time came, Padmé gave birth to twins, and named them Luke and Leia. Then, tragically, she died.

Anakin acted out in anger and frustration yet again. His fellow Jedi knights, fearing for the safety of the twins, took them away into foster care. In the darkness of Anakin’s grief, the Evil One came to him with sympathy on his face and said, “Oh, my dear Anakin. What a tragedy. If only you had been strong enough to save Padmé. If only you had loved her enough. If only you hadn’t been so angry.”

In his pain Anakin believed these words. He didn’t think he could bear the shame of what he had done, and what he had failed to do. He started to believe himself incapable of love, to believe that he was in some way defective. He had to hide. And so, he crafted a mask for himself, a dark mask and a cloak that would project strength, power, and invulnerability. He called this mask Darth Vader. For many years, Vader lived a kind of half-life, almost more machine rather than man, and allied himself with the Evil One.

Then, one day, Darth Vader’s son Luke, now grown to adulthood, returned to him, and said to him, “Father, I know there is good in you. I see the good in you. Won’t you take my hand and come back home to yourself?” And Vader felt so threatened by Luke’s compassion, more threatened by this than by any who had ever raised a sword against him, that he swore to destroy Luke.

But Luke said, “I will not fight you, Father. There is good in you.” Vader didn’t believe it, he said it was too late for him to have such hope. But then he saw Luke do a remarkable thing. Luke was so determined not to jeopardize his relationship with the one he loved, that he chose even to surrender to the most destructive forces of the Evil One, rather than draw a sword against his own flesh and blood.

Seeing this, Darth Vader – Anakin – finally understood something about love he had long forgotten. He at last was able to face the guilt over the wrong he had done, and the shame – the unearned guilt – over what had been beyond his control. In receiving Luke’s acceptance of him, he accepts himself. He casts the Evil One into the abyss, and repents. He turns around to face his son.

The first thing he says is, “Luke, help me take this mask off, so that I can see you with my own eyes.”

“Help me take this mask off, so that I can see you with my own eyes.”

The black helmet is lifted off, the twisted mask is peeled away, and behind it we see a broken man whose eyes are filled with nothing but love for his son. The deep shame of past hurts, failures, and losses has fallen away, and with it has fallen away the need to armor up, puff up with pride, and protect himself.

And we see that all along, behind the mask of Vader have been the eyes of a man desperate to love, desperate to give himself in love. Luke had said over and over, “I know there is good in you.” And Anakin’s final words to Luke are, “You were right about me. You were right.” Thus ends the story of Anakin Skywalker.

I, like you, wear a variety of masks – personas – that disclose a curated version of myself to myself and to the world. They obscure a deeper me, the “me” who I’m not so sure is lovable, or capable of love.

But God knows — God knows that your point of origin is not sin, it is love. He sees the goodness in you. He says to you, in the words of the Psalmist: “Princely state has been yours from the day of your birth; in the beauty of holiness have I begotten you, like dew from the womb of the morning."

When you undergo repentance, and let go of your mask, you see Christ afresh. And then you can Look! Behold – the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! And you find yourself adoring him, overflowing with love that spills over into every relationship, into every hurt that needs healing.

Christ notices you beholding him with these new eyes of love and says, “What are you looking for?” And you say, “You, Rabbi. I’m looking for you! I have seen you with my own eyes, and I wish to abide with you. Tell me, Where are you staying?”

And he says, “Come and see.” He guides you along the way to where he abides. He says, Come here to where two or three are gathered in my name. There I am. Come and see – in the face of this little one who comes from a distant land seeking a cup of water to drink. Give it to her, and in so doing, you give it to me. Come and see. In the fragile and majestic beauty of this world my Father made. Come here to the table and see the broken bread; there I am. Abide with me and I will surely abide in you.

Jesus knows that my attention is fickle, my resolve is weak, and the old habits of shame and self-rejection are not overcome in a day. I find myself hiding, holding back, losing sight. So again and again, I turn back to the one I love and I say, “Rabbi, teacher, open the eyes of my heart. Help me take this mask off; so that I may see you, where ever you are staying.”

Epiphany 2 C - Sunday, January 20, 2019

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Br. Josép Martinez-Cubero, OHC
Epiphany 2 C - Sunday, January 20, 2019

Isaiah 62:1-5      1 Corinthians 12:1-11      John 2:1-11

Click here for an audio version of the sermon.

A wedding in the ancient world was an exceptional feast. Celebrations went on for days. For many, a wedding meant a break from what may have often been experienced as endless labor. It was a chance to eat and drink abundant food and wine, in contrast to the meager rations that made up a typical daily fare. 

Cana of Galilee was known for its thieves, rebels, and Gentiles. It was in Gentile territory that Jesus made his adult home and performed his first miracle in the Gospel of John. From the very beginning Jesus’ life and work go beyond the boundaries of race and nation.

The gospel reading begins with the words "on the third day." Early Christians would have heard the expression and would have understood it to relate to the resurrection. That Jesus was raised "on the third day" was a common understanding in the earliest resurrection traditions.  Therefore, we are to consider what follows in the story in light of the resurrection.

"On the third day, a marriage happened..." Marriage is an image relating to the fullness of time. In the reading from Isaiah, the prophet declares that the land of Judah will no longer be called "desolate," but will instead be called "married". With Jesus’ resurrection, the reconciliation, that is, the "marriage" between God and humanity is complete, and the people revel in joy and bountiful life, which is symbolized by the abundance of wine.  

Jesus' gift of wine at the wedding at Cana is directly connected to the sacrifice of his life on the cross. The glory revealed by the wine is directly connected to the glorification manifested in his death and resurrection. Jewish and Greek readers in the late first century would have recognized these associations. Prophetic writings and late-first-century Jewish tradition associated a lavish outpouring of wine with the advent of the Messiah. Greek legends associated with the god Dionysus saw miraculous gifts of wine as revealing of the presence of a deity. 

The stone jars, each of which could contain fifteen to twenty-five gallons, signify the abundance of the gifts introduced by Jesus. Jesus' mysterious reference to "my hour" refers to his future passion, death, and resurrection. The impact of the sign at Cana is that "Jesus revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.” 

Though never explicitly named, Mary is introduced for the first time in the fourth gospel. She makes known her concern to her son: “They have no wine.” To which he replies: “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” Really Jesus?? Wrong! You better listen to your mother. Let’s picture this scene. The gospel, does not tell us what her response is, but judging from what follows we can get a pretty good idea. Or perhaps she didn’t have to say anything else to him. Despite his objection, Mary knows that Jesus will listen to her voice and perform the sign that will reveal his glory. Even Jesus needed a little push from mom. Perhaps she listened to her son’s reply, turned to the servants, said: “Do whatever he tells you”, looked back at Jesus, and then walked away. Done! Her role in the story is to articulate our human need for Christ. She appears only twice in John’s Gospel: in this passage about the wedding at Cana, and later on when she stands by the cross. These two brief appearances by Mary connect Jesus' first sign and his last breath. 

Faith is the purpose of the sign, as it is in all the miracles in John's Gospel. Faith is the reason why and the purpose for which the Gospel of John was written:

“But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.” (20:31).

Faith is why we proclaim the gospel. In the Christian context, good works are the by-products of faith. Faith is not a matter of coercion but of wonder at the miracle of Christ. Miracles happen. Signs of Christ at work appear all around us whether or not we acknowledge them. They benefit us whether or not we notice them. But to see these signs for what they are and believe in the one to whom they point is to live in the joy of the Glory of God, that is, to be fully alive.

About this gospel lesson, St. Augustine wrote:

“He who made the wine that day at the marriage feast does this every year in vines. But we do not wonder at the latter because it happens every year; it has lost its marvel by its constant occurrence.”

In my experience, to live a life faith has to do with the constant surrender to the understanding that all is grace, not because we are entitled or even because we deserve it, but because it has been freely given. Everything in life is a miracle, a sign pointing to Christ. Wrapping my head around that understanding will surely take me the rest of my life. ¡Que así sea en el nombre del Padre, del Hijo y del Espíritu Santo! ~Amen+

Second Sunday after the Epiphany: January 14, 2018

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Robert James Magliula, OHC

Second Sunday after the Epiphany- Sunday, January 14, 2018



To hear the sermon in its fullness click here.

Br. Robert James Magliula

To be called by God means that God knows one’s name and being known by one’s name, is a powerful influence on us. To be called by God is an act of intimacy and divine urgency. This truth is woven through our readings this morning.

In the summons to Samuel, God instructs Samuel first to listen. An old man and a young boy collaborate to hear God’s call and vision. The old man knows the ways of the Lord and guides Samuel in the art of listening. 

Although Eli failed to pass on faithfulness to his own sons, he now serves as a spiritual parent to his young charge. It takes the attentiveness of the young Samuel and the wisdom of the old Eli to birth this new thing God is doing. Human speaking and hearing now become one of the main means by which the light of God’s revelation breaks into the world. This listening, hearing, and responding becomes a communal affair.

The communal nature of God’s call is articulated by Paul to the Corinthians. They are not their own but were bought with the cross of Christ. Freedom comes from belonging to Christ. What glorifies God is what is beneficial, not principally to themselves, but to their community. Paul interprets being members of Christ in a radical way by proposing that this intimate union with Christ is analogous to a sexual union. For Paul, the body is not just an ephemeral entity inferior to the soul. Rather, it is the locus of the union with Christ in the life of the Christian. Paul urges them and us to remember that because their bodies are united to Christ, the Holy Spirit dwells in them, making their very bodies sacred temples.

In John’s Gospel Jesus is deciding not just where to go next but who to call and take with him. All the Gospels agree that it is not enough to believe in Jesus. The call to discipleship consists in following him. Jesus had the capacity to see a person in their true light. The encounter with Christ is a potent force that propels Philip and Nathaniel. It is the sheer presence of Christ that draws them. Their call is not so much a call to mission as it is an invitation to an epiphany, or more accurately, a Christophany. Jesus the Son of Man is the ultimate ladder stretching between earth and heaven. He is the point of contact between the finite and the infinite, the conjunction of time and eternity.

Our call to relationship, as that of those encountering God in today’s readings, is a two-way street, involving talking, listening, and responding. How do our preconceptions of God and God’s activity prevent us from an authentic encounter with God? We have heard the phrase “created in the image and likeness of God” so often that we don’t appreciate what it says about us. Our family of origin is divine. We were created by a loving God to be love in the world. Our core is not original sin, but original blessing. Good theology cannot make up for negative anthropology. From God’s side, we are always known and loved subject to subject, just as the persons of the Trinity know and love one another. We are never an object to God. Yet, like Samuel, all too often we are sleeping, not fully sensing the divinity around us or within us. Our hearts, minds, and souls are dulled so that we can spend our lives in the temple, but never hear or recognize God’s call.

Discipleship and Christology fit together closely because discipleship is first of all a willingness to walk with Jesus. Christology unfolds in the course of discipleship. It is not obedience to an abstract set of codes, but consent to a costly, life-giving relationship. In walking with Jesus, we learn who he is. As we learn who he is, we learn what it means to follow him.

All relationships take nourishing—the one with God more than most. So many things draw us away from it. We live on the plane of the tangible and feed it with things and events and people. Those are the things that occupy our minds. The spiritual plane we take for granted, though nothing affects us more than the loss of it. When we’re lonely or depressed or agitated or frightened, the material is of little or no help. What we really need then is the anchoring that only the spiritual can bring. We need the awareness that though life is not in our hands right now, it is surely in the hands of a God who loves us. It is this anchoring in the spiritual that lifts us above the pressures of the present to the renewed consciousness of the eternal stability of the God.

The hallmark of a Benedictine community responding to God’s call lies in its prayer life. It is the essential foundation of our life. Prayer is a cultivated state. It takes time. It takes attention. Most of all it takes consistency.

Consistency is what raises simple regularity to the level of relationship. It is the awareness of God that draws us, whether or not we feel any immediate personal satisfaction.

Every spiritual tradition forms a person in some kind of regular practice designed to focus the mind and heart. Our regular prayer here reminds us that life is punctuated by God, encircled by God. To interrupt the day with prayer draws us beyond the present to the timelessness of eternity. Prayer and regular spiritual practices remind us of what we are doing, why we are doing it, and where our lives are going. It sustains us on the way. It is the effort to put ourselves in the presence of God over and over again in the course of the day that prepares us for the abiding Presence that is our home.

Prayer is not a spiritual vending machine. It is also not meant to be an escape from life. Real prayer plunges us into life. It gives us new eyes. It shapes a new heart within us. It makes demands on us. It’s so easy to escape into the small self and call the escape holiness. Those who truly invest themselves in God invest themselves in others. We are put here to love, not for the sake of the other alone, but for our own sake as well. When our prayer is a journey into the heart of God, then we come to understand ourselves: our fears, our darkness, our struggles, our resistance, our choices. All too often, for social approval, or fear of risk, or self-doubt, we have learned to resist the call of God to our full development. Prayer does not simply reveal us to God and God to us. It reveals us to ourselves at the same time. The round of daily prayer can become the way we are brought to encounter ourselves.

It is our self-knowledge that equips us to love another as a person, rather than an idea.  In loving we turn ourselves over to be shaped and reshaped in life. The people who love us do for us what we cannot do for ourselves. They release the best in us. They carry us through the rough times. They stretch us beyond the confines of our own experiences to wider and truer visions. They show us the face of God.

Our call to relationship in the spiritual life is meant to be an adventure between God and the soul. Without prayer, without attention to the incompleteness in us, a relationship with God is impossible. God cannot enter and we will never be at home in ourselves until we come to who we truly are in God. 

Epiphany 2 C - Jan 17, 2016

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Joseph Wallace-Williams, n/OHC
Epiphany 2 - Sunday, January 17, 2016

Isaiah 62:1-51 
Corinthians 12:1-11
John 2:1-11

The Marriage at Cana, Gerard David, Louvre Museum

Maybe I'm just hearing things? Did anyone else catch all that? Maybe our familiarity with this text makes it hard to catch it all? Maybe this will help: 

• Hospitality and its importance.
• Scarcity and Abundance, 
• It's okay to have a party and a good time.
• Attentiveness and Disobedience.
• Family tension.
• Fear and Shame. 
• Isolation vs community. 

 And I could keep going!!!

I think this text from John's Gospel offers us, three important and timely lessons if we would but listen. The first concerns the issues of the old and the new. The second concerns the power of intercession and the third concerns the topic of obedience.

The Lesson about the Old and the New in the text: The Old wine was still wine, even if it was not the premium stuff. The Old stuff just before it gave out was enough to make them think that all was well and they were still in control. The old stuff gave a sense of security.

Now before I go on I think it important here to say that I love old things. I love studying history.  I love antiques. Most of all I love old people. And anyone who knows me and knows me well will tell you that I have a deep respect for tradition and that I'm also not afraid to challenge orthodoxy with orthopraxis and critical scholarship. 

All that being said I think it is often all of that old stuff, not the total emptiness or rock bottom that obstructs conversion and our way to Christ.

You know all of those:
• Past hurts, grudges and bitterness.
• Unflinching denial.
• Old attitudes and insecurities. 
• Passive aggressive behaviors disg

uised as piety.
• Old habits and ways of coping that if we are honest with ourselves never really worked to begin with.
• Outdated information.
• Artificial smiles and politeness that thinly veil rage. 
• Sexism, racism, homophobia and ageism disguised as prudent advice.
• Lifeless rituals and rules that coalesce to create old, dry religion.
• Just stale, Stinking thinking and pessimism disguised as realistic thinking.

Old and New.

Freshness and Stagnation.

Jesus stretching us making us really uncomfortable.

Jesus working shaping us 

Calling the best out of each and every one of us.


The lesson on the strength and power of Intercession

We are often so in the thick of our emotions and inner stuff that we can’t see the full picture and not know up from down right from wrong or make the distinction between hope and fear. 

Like the people in the story who see the reality of what is about to take place realizing their powerlessness and reached out to someone who is more powerful than they themselves. 

We too need a:
• Praying community.
• A community that is faithful and spirit filled surrounding us. 
• A Community bold enough to speak the truth.
• A perceptive community that will continue to encourage and challenge us to grow more fully into holiness despite our resistance.

And as companions to one another after we have spoken the truth we must like Mary make intercession to the One who has power and authority. 

The quiet confidence she displays in the text comes from, I think, an intimate relationship with the Whom she was speaking to. So Mary is neither upset nor unnerved by the response of her son.  She is confident that he will act in some way to her petition.
So, before she exits stage left and drops the microphone she tells the wait staff to do whatever He tells them.






Which brings us to the lesson on obedience and cooperation with the spirit:

Like that wait staff at the wedding reception we too need to be prepared and willing to do whatever He tells us: By any means necessary!

  But here’s the catch to this risky, radical obedience to the Will of God: What God asks may not make any obvious sense to us at the time. But as my ancestors would say:“ We will understand it better by and by. “

This is where the robber meets the road. This is where actions speak louder than words. This is where real discipleship real obedience is the hardest--when it has to be mixed with deep faith because we know that God provided back then and that same God is faithful, and true now.

The radical obedience of the wait staff in today's gospel reading prepares the ground for Jesus to take an empty and inadequate situation and make the best out of it. And the result is that everyone at the event profit from the obedience of a few. 

All God needs is just a few folk who will do what Jesus says. Just a few folk who catch the vision of what could be, while the many criticize, based on what already is. Just a few folks to be a voice crying in the wilderness.  Just a few people to resist the status quo and opt in to the vision offered by Christ.  Just a few who know where true life is.  Just a few who know where fullness of joy can be found. 
Beloved don't get it twisted numbers can fool you: Big crowds can give a false sense of security and approval and a couple of people can give a false sense of defeat. 
Signs and wonders do not require a large group. All God needs is just a few folk who will follow Jesus and do what he says is plenty 
 Enough. 

The Path of faithfulness and Discipleship is not always fun stuff but it’s definitely the stuff that will make us Saints.