The Boring Miracle at Cana

On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee...         — John 2

     Chamein Canton, a New York wedding planner for almost fifteen years, has witnessed just about everything that could go wrong: The bride who gained weight and discovered two days before the wedding that she couldn’t fit into her gown; the groomsman who drank too much the night before, leaned too close to a candle during the ceremony and caught his head on fire, prompting the father of the bride to knock out the flames… and the groom; the fair-skinned bride whose friend talked her into getting a spray tan, so she ended up looking like an Oompa-Loompa.   After years of doing weddings myself, it almost doesn't feel like a wedding to me unless something goes wrong.  Usually, it's something minor: A cell phone going off in the middle of the vows.  But at the wedding in Cana, something went terribly wrong.

Weddings in Palestine were major celebrations with extended family and friends that typically lasted a week or more.  And three days into that week, the host family had run out of wine.  Only this is no minor faux pas. According to the customs of the day, it's a social disaster.  Crestfallen, the bride's parents regard each other in dismay. The bride looks over at them, too, tears flooding her eyes. Then she looks to her new husband, who's turning red with embarrassment. His eyes won't even meet hers. The whispering has already started: "They have no wine."  Then, across the room, two mothers' eyes meet: the desperate mother of the bride and Mary, mother of Jesus. In that instant, Mary knows what she has to do.  Mary goes to Jesus and says simply, "They have no wine."

She didn't tell Jesus what to do about it, she simply reported the fact that they had run out of wine.  So often we don't just tell Jesus our problems, we tell him how we want them fixed.  We pray, "Thy will be done,". "But if you haven't got any ideas, Lord, I can tell you how I think you should handle it." Mary should be a good example to us.

Jesus responds by saying to her "Woman, what concern is this of ours? My hour has not yet come.  I guess calling her "woman" might sound a little harsh, but it wasn't.  There is no good equivalent in English for the Koine Greek term translated as “woman.”  If we were looking for the real meaning in English, it might be Lady or Madam. Perhaps these work better if you’re British. The southern English term “Ma’am” captures the Greek pretty well.  It is the same gentle word Jesus used on the cross as he was dying to make sure his mother Mary was taken care of.  He said to his mother, "Woman, behold your son," and to his beloved disciple who was to take her into his own home, "Behold your mother."

Now at this stage of the game, Mary was no blushing violet.  I guess after years of angels popping up saying impossible things, and troops of shepherds, and wise men from the East, and stars, and running for your lives to Egypt, and then having to return by the long road, bypassing your home and moving to Galilee because you were still afraid for your life, having a few more kids, your husband dying... you get a little tough.  Mary didn't argue. Mary didn't plead. Mary didn't nag.  She just went and told the servants to do whatever Jesus told them to.

Six stone water jars for Jewish rite of purification were sitting there;  they held 20-30 gallons each. (That's 120 to 180 gallons total).  Jesus told them to fill the stone urns to the brim, and then take a cup of it to the head table.  The chief steward was amazed: this was not just wine. This was good wine.  And the Gospels report him saying something like, "Behold, verily most weddings serveth the Two-Buck Chuck after all ye are drunk, but thou hast saved the $50 a bottle Ferrari-Carano Merlot till now!"

Just a side note here: this miracle took place simply because Jesus did not want the celebration to end.  No one was sick.  No one was dying.  No one was demon possessed.  Jesus performed his first miracle simply because he cared about sparing a family embarrassment and keeping a celebration going.  That should really say something to Christians who believe anything fun must be sinful. I swear, you'd think they were baptized in vinegar instead of water.

And I have to say. What a boring miracle!  Where's the razzle dazzle?  Where's the flash of lightning?  Where's the explosion of smoke and gasp of everyone at the wedding?  The only people who even knew a miracle had taken place were Jesus, and Mary, and the slaves who had filled the water urns.  The mayor of Cana didn't see the miracle.  The rich guy and his wife who owned half the town and drove a gold Lexus chariot didn't see it.  The bride and the groom didn't even know what had happened.  Maybe sometimes to see a miracle, it takes the eyes of a servant.  When everything's going right, and we feel like we're completely in charge of our own lives. we tend to miss the miracles.  But when we take on the attitude of a servant; when things aren't going right; when our lives seem out of our control; when we begin to see others as more important than ourselves; when we have the very attitude Jesus had, we begin to see miracles everywhere.

Jesus’ first miracle wasn't a personal miracle for one person. It was a miracle for the community.  When we get outside of ourselves, and instead of looking for personal miracles, begin to open our eyes to the miracles that take place when we are in community. when we share our lives with others. They happen all the time.

I can't change water into wine (or at least I haven't been able to so far!)  Maybe you've had more luck at it than I.  But maybe we keep missing the miracles because we expect the flash bang type.  Jesus changed the water into wine just to keep the party going.  Perhaps the greatest miracle you and  I are called to do is to simply step into the human situations around us and do what we can to keep going whatever good stuff might be happening, because that's where God is.

C.S. Lewis once said this miracle of changing water into wine is still going on today.

"God is always changing water into wine. In fact no wine exists that didn't start out as water. It's all of the intermediary steps —the root of the vine taking the water, the bloom, the maturation of the fruit, the gathering, the fermentation, the aging and finally the wine."

The only two things that change are whether we are involved in it, and whether we see it.  Moses saw the burning bush. Mary saw the angel. Jesus saw the heavens opened at his baptism and the Spirit of God descending as a dove.

Frederick Buechner writes, "Most people have also seen (miracles). Through some moment of beauty or pain, some sudden turning of their lives, most of them have caught glimmers at least of what the saints are blinded by. Only then, unlike the saints, they tend to go on as if nothing has happened.”

Like the wine at the wedding feast, in this present world, everything runs out.  Food runs out, and we get hungry.  Energy runs out, and we get tired.  And we lose things.  We lose our innocence; we lose relationships; we lose people we love.  Sometimes, we even lose our hope and our faith.  But we have a God who loves to work with emptiness and with simple, everyday, common things like water to create something new and extraordinary.  And no matter how common you may feel, or how empty you may feel, when we open ourselves to God, slowly, without a flash or a bang or a thunderbolt, we find ourselves being filled... and then it begins to run over.  And then, without knowing how, just as that common water was changed into extraordinary wine… just so, we are changed.

Hitchhiking with God

     In the path of your judgments, O Lord, we wait for you; your name and your renown are the soul’s desire.     — Isaiah 26:8 

 

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            I make the mistake sometimes of thinking I'm doing a lot more than I really am. With all our prayers, liturgies, Christian symbology, and observances, it's easy to fall into thinking we have God cornered… figured out. Perhaps it's better to understand that all we are really doing is trying to put ourselves in the path where it's likely God will pass by. That's really the best any faith practice can promise us. Because God is the very desire of our souls, all we can do is try to scramble up onto the road, put our fists in the air, thumbs out, and hope to get picked up.

Faith and Violence

     As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, John answered all of them by saying, ‘I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing-fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing-floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.’  So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people.

— Luke 3

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“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.”  So writes St. Paul in Philippians.  I do know about you, but I can hardly read those words aloud much less feel them. 

 

How do you rejoice when our nation is in mourning over the senseless deaths of children in a place which should have been the safest, their classroom at school?  How do you rejoice when we live in a society where death by gunshot is not just greater than other nations in the world, but greater on an order of magnitude that is astonishing?  How do you rejoice when this is not the first time we've been here?

 

John the Baptist and Jesus himself lived in a violent society just like we do.  It wasn't gun violence, but it was violence they encountered on a regular basis.  Not only was there violence between people, but there was government-sponsored violence.  Jesus in Luke 13 spoke about Galileans who came to worship whose blood Pilate had been mingled with their sacrifices.  Folks who simply came to worship at the temple murdered their by their own government.  The same government that would execute John, and later, our Lord.  And John's answer to that in today's Gospel was that there was a Messiah coming who was going to gather up wheat and burn chaff.  There was a Messiah who was coming in power to conquer and defeat this kind of thing.  John was so caught up in his vision of Holy Spirit fire, later even he had a hard time recognizing the gentle Messiah Jesus.

 

We too are caught in a culture of violence, where every action movie we see proclaims the solution is more violence.  The hero is always able to find a better way, a bigger gun, to nail the bad guy. It's the myth of redemptive violence that so many people have bought into.  But Jesus’ answer to the violence of his own time wasn't to tell everyone to start packin' a sword. Jesus' answer was love. His answer was to seek peace. His answer was forgiveness. His answer was kindness.

 

Unlike the children we've lost, we're no longer young and innocent as a nation.  We've been here again and again.  And I'm having a different reaction to it this time.  In the past, there was just this overwhelming sadness… and I do feel sad.  But mostly, I feel angry.  I'm angry that it's happening again.  I'm angry that this has become a normal thing in our society. And I'm angry with people who tell us it is okay to mourn with the parents and the families and the friends who have lost children, but it's not okay to talk about how to prevent this from ever happening again.  We are better than this as a nation.  We are better than this as Christians.

 

The only thing I know for sure is the hand of God was not behind the trigger, but the hand of God was behind those who shielded the innocent, cared for the wounded, and who, even today, grieve alongside and hold one another.  It's natural for folks to try and find a way to feel safe again after events like this.  Unfortunately, complete security is a fantasy for human beings — an illusion we seek because we are mortal.  We know we get sick.  Life can be cut short by any number of dangers, including completely senseless violence.  We seek security when, as Isaiah tells us, the only true security is in trusting God: "Surely, it is God who saves me; I will trust in him and not be afraid." 

 

There is the temptation to withdraw from the world in the face of such violence and loss. But Jesus's answer in Matthew 5 is to tell us that we "are the light of the world… The salt of the earth."  We are the very people Jesus is looking to help change this nation and this world.  I don't know that there are any simple solutions to this kind of violence.  I may not be completely sure of the how but I am very sure of the who. I do know who is going to help solve this problem:  The people who are going to help solve this problem are you.  I know you thought Christianity was all about little stuff like not cussing, and loving orphaned kitties, and not being cranky with your wife, but Jesus tells us your faith is custom-made to take on immense national and global life changing issues.

 

As we practice love, as we practice compassion, as we practice forgiveness, we hold in our hands immense power that doesn't just change our own individual lives.  God places in our hands a raw, molten power that can change a nation and change our world.  We are not, however, promised that God will keep us from ever having to experience sorrow or loss, because loss is part of the human journey, but we are promised a God who will walk alongside us; A God who grieves with us.  A weeping God. A God who is weeping over our children this very moment.  A God who will give us the strength to keep walking, to keep being the salt of the earth, to keep being the light.

 

Jesus came down at Christmas, God incarnate, so he could live a life that was fully human.  To be fully human is to experience loss.  To be fully human is to grieve.  Jesus invites us to embrace and live courageously and creatively in the face of our human anxiety, not to withdraw, but to embrace more of what it means to be fully human.  You see, faith is not believing a laundry list of all the right things, but rather faith is — in the face of danger, and anxiety, and fear, and loss, and the unknown — to keep living and walking alongside one another, to keep forgiving one another, to keep trusting.  Faith is recognizing in the face of such tragedy how precious each and every one of us is, and to love each other all the more.

 

Diocesan Convention Update - Saturday, October 13, 2012

     In the Bishop's annual address, he said Nevada is in a time of heavy clergy turnover.  The new Standing Committee is working really well and meeting more often.  We have overhauled our financial affairs.

     Last year, he emphasized relationships.  It appeared many congregations across the state were not fighting with each other, but that's because we're not speaking to one another.  This year, our priests and deacons have been talking a lot more.  The process of convention is beginning to feel more relational.  There are some congregations that are at Level 4 crisis: Flight or fight.  He's noticed these kind of churches are often also in conflict with the diocese and neighboring churches.  Being connected outside our walls is important.  He spoke of community organizing efforts in Las Vegas and Reno and the support our churches had given.  He gave a specific example from a new member at Trinity in Reno (yay!) inspired by our involvement in the community through the ACTIONN, our new interfaith community organizing project to improve education and alleviate unemployment in the Reno-Sparks area.

     The Bishop talked about how the Episcopal church in Nevada is growing.  each year of 2009 through 2012 at a rate of anywhere from 12% to 28% last year.  He said he knew how such statistics can be disconcerting; we're used to telling the story of our decline.  This got a good chuckle out of the delegates.

     The Commission on Ministry has revised lay servers licensing.  Ministry development has created gifts discernment workshops for most of the parishes.  They have clarified the procedure for ordination.  The bishop joked that we tend to put people trying to become deacons or priests through so much that they are angry at the church, and then we ordain them. 

     The Bishop hopes we will continue to make new connections to continue growth.  We have been historically anemic on evangelism and stewardship. Nevada was once supported by the national church as a territorial church, and that has created an attitude where stewardship wasn't that necessary.  Those times are long gone.  We have made investments this year to improving both stewardship and evangelism.

     "We need to be visible," said Bishop Dan.  He spoke of volunteer projects on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.  Dan volunteered last MLK Day, but he was the only Episcopalian there.  There were banks, frat houses, Starbuck's, but no churches, and they were shocked a church was there.  He challenged us to put 300 Episcopalians across the state in volunteer project on this next year's MLK Day.  He jokingly referred to this as the BBHAG (The Bishop's Big Hairy Audacious Goal!)  If we choose to grow again next year, we can grow next year.  It is not just because of our organizational  health, but because so many people need the Good News in their lives.

     Dan felt we also need to address stewardship.  Not teaching stewardship infantilizes our people.  Teaching it, grows strong, mature Christians. Doing this would allow the Diocese to reduce the asking (the percentage of a parish's income that goes to the Diocese).  His goal is to reduce it to 20% (from 25%) within the next five years.  But, it will take evangelism and stewardship.

     One challenge to our relationships is communications.  We are looking to create a communications strategy.

     The Bishop concluded his annual address by saying we need a vision and a plan for our life together.  The Bishop has appointed someone to create that vision through whatever strategic planning method.  But the diocesan vision can only be supportive of a parish, so it must start with the parishes.  Our mission cannot just be survival.  Parishes need to create their own visions.

     Stewart, the Director of Camp Galilee, the Episcopal Church Camp at Lake Tahoe gave us a status update.  The camp has experienced growth and there are a number of new construction projects underway.

     Virginia Warren spoke to us about planned giving, that is, including the Episcopal Church in our wills.  There is now a program in place that not only includes planned giving, but provides assistance with making a will, and funeral planning.  Most of us hate to think about this, but it is a pastoral responsibility of the Church to help our members with this.

     You might not realize that our own Stefani Schatz, Rector of Trinity Episcopal Church, is also the President of the state Diocese's Standing Committee.  She spoke about how well the Standing Committee is working together and meeting more often through the use of technology.  She said she both felt they took care of day-to-day business, but also sparked support and encouragement for local parishes.  She said that the Standing Committee is interested in our input and is listening as we engage in strategic planning for our future.  She closed by leading the entire congregation in a singing of "Allelu, allelu, allelu, allelujah, Praise Ye the Lord."

     During today's business sessions, we revised the canons to be adjusted to the new reality of a streamlined Standing Committee, established a companion diocese relationship with the Diocese of Machakos in the Anglican Church of Kenya, and passed our annual budget. 

     We closed our convention with a splendid Eucharist supported by a pick-up choir made up of volunteers from among the delegates.  The delegates at the convention decided our collection from this liturgy would be donated to Camp Galilee to help provide sponsorships for children.  Our Episcopal Camp at the Lake has never turned away a child because of inability to pay.

     I'm not quite sure how many years I've been going to these - somewhere over twelve years - but it's always amazing how much we get through in just a couple short days! 

     We have a nice celebratory banquet tonight, and I'm looking forward to being back in Reno tomorrow afternoon!

Diocesan Convention Update - Friday, October 13, 2012

     You can sure tell which ones of us grew up in Nevada. The Diocesan Convention in Las Vegas opened with the singing of Home Means Nevada, except we substituted "Church" for "Home". When I was at Robert Mitchel Elementary School in Sparks, everyone sang our state song as part of our morning exercises. Newcomers to Nevada got the pleasure of learning it!

     We've all heard the discouraging statistics about the decline of the church, most recently from a Pew Research poll, but our keynote speaker, Bob Honeychurch from the National Church, was one of the first I have heard the emphasized the great opportunity embedded in this. We all woke up when he referred to some old church traditions as the "holy crap" that had accumulated. He said the ground in which we are planted is too valuable for us not to take this seriously. There are many people in our society who describe themselves as "spiritual, but not religious," but sadly our churches could sometimes be described as "religious, but not spiritual." Too often, people come to us looking for God, and we give them church. They come looking for ways to make sense of the chaos in theirs lives, and we give them a list of committees they could serve on. We are tempted to equate the Good News with all the trappings, but if we could focus on what's really important -- giving people an authentic experience of the Christ -- all those other concerns about how we should minister, and whether our churches would grow, would be taken care of. We must find ourselves firmly planted in the world that is... where God is already actively involved.  He suggested we need to find ourselves in that Exodus story. We're in the wilderness right now, in a strange land, time, and culture not of our own choosing. But we are not alone. God is with us on this journey and is leading, just as God did the Israelites with a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night.  We are called to where the world's deep hunger and our faith meet. That is the gift of being the church today.

     There is great news on our budget. In 2013, we have a balanced budget for the first time in a long time. Applause! Net income is better than forecasted, so we're also ending the year well in the black. We will also be able to help fulfill specific financial grant requests from local congregations. When all is said and done, we are a $10,000,000 organization!  Amazing!

     We watched a very moving video report on Latino Ministries. Bishop Dan said it started out as a way to help the Latino community, but they have enriched us. I hope to post the video soon!

     We spent much of the afternoon in various interest groups focused on an exercise called "mapping assets" where we look at talents we as individuals and as a diocese can bring to bear in the areas of evangelism, Camp Galilee, communications, ministry development, and education.

     Later, we worked on committee appointments and canon revision, all too titillating to be described fully in this humble blog.  In the evening, open hearing were held on miscellaneous reports (kind of an "open mic" for different folks who want to make announcements) and the budget (for the truly wonky folks who love the details!)

     We ended with a presentation from the deputies who went to our national General Assembly this summer.

     The Trinity group all went out to dinner at a place called the Ranch House.  The food was great, and breaking bread in one another's company after a long day was refreshing.

And Who is My Neighbor on September 11?

     "You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.  But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…"        — Matthew 5:43, 44

     I was teaching my sixth-grade class on that day in 2001.  As our school went into lockdown, and broken bits of news and rumor filtered down to us about the attack on the Twin Towers in New York, my role was to reassure frightened children even though I was frightened myself.  I had to be the non-anxious presence for my students when all I really wanted to do was huddle in a corner and cry.

     Today, eleven years later, the question, "And who is my neighbor?" needs to be asked again.  Most of us have no problem identifying with those killed on September 11.  They were our sons and our daughters; they were our mothers and fathers; we see ourselves when we look at the faces of those lost.

     When asked, "And who is my neighbor?"  Jesus didn't reply, as his audience expected, with a list of who was in, and who was out.  Instead, he told a story — The Good Samaritan — a story in which the word neighbor evolves from a simple noun that could be quantified to an adjective describing a way of being in the world.  He chose to use a Samaritan since they were one of the most hated and vilified groups of people in his day.  Samaritans were, however, also the Jews' neighbors.  The old joke goes that the reason the Lord put love for our neighbor right next to love for our enemy is because they are often the same person.  We chuckle because we recognize the underlying sad truth in the joke.

     One of the things I felt President George W. Bush did right in the immediate aftermath of the attacks was to make a clear distinction between the terrorists and the majority of peace-loving followers of Islam.  Unfortunately, that spirit has not thrived.  Instead, since 2001, we have seen a huge increase in hate crimes directed at Muslims and in organized anti-Islamic hate groups.  This morning in the Washington Post, there were a couple articles (here and here) about this increasing hatred, and calling us to greater tolerance and acceptance of one another.  I posted a comment supportive of the author and quoted Jesus' call to love our neighbor.  You'd think that would be kind of noncontroversial, especially among those who espouse Christianity, but no.  The article was posted at 5:29 AM PST; it is now 10:40 AM. In these last five hours, 2,634 words have been written in the comments decrying the authors and Islam.  Here's just a small unedited sample:

"lying to non-muslims is a muslim's duty”
"Islam is a primtive political ideology masquerading as a religion.”
"no Muslim can be trusted anytime or anywhere”
"expect daily intimidation and violent jihad”
"most radical Muslims intimidate and spew hatred, and satisfy their blood lust by killing”

     In that same period of time, only 325 words, other than my own, have been written supportive of the concept of increased tolerance and loving our neighbors — that's only about 11% of all the comments.

     We human beings are great at building walls.  I've been told there is only one individual human-made object visible from outer space: the Great Wall of China.  It seems sadly appropriate given how we build walls between ourselves on this small blue planet.  Unlike most of human history, Jesus came to tear down walls.  No one can pretend it's easy.  Perhaps if we just begin by tearing down a few walls in our own lives it will get easier to tackle the big walls: the walls between Muslims and Christians, Republicans and Democrats, rich and poor, young and old, gay and straight.  Maybe someday as we continue to practice our love lessons, we will move beyond mere tolerance of "the other," to a bright dawn where by its new light we recognize we are all, in fact, enriched by our differences.

I'm back

     For those of you who have noticed the silence in my blog over the past few months, I apologize.  I was actually rather surprised when people mentioned it to me.  For me, this is more of a writing discipline — I'm not sure I realized there were that many people who read the blog.  When I taught school, it was simpler.  I wrote every day when my students wrote.  Now that I am a full-time priest, it's just too easy to let all my writing be channeled into newsletter articles, sermons, and classes rather than my blog.  I'm back, and I hope to be a smidge more disciplined.