For the Second Sunday after the Epiphany
How priceless is your love, O God!
your people take refuge under the shadow of your wings. (Psalm 36:7)
As I began to think about this week's lessons, I was powerfully aware of the contradiction between the abundance of God's grace and glory presented in the words we will be reading in worship on Sunday and the apparent absence of that grace and glory from the images we are receiving in our living rooms detailing the tragedy unfolding in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. Destruction. Devastation. Death. Where is the Epiphany light?
This difficult juxtaposition between the assurances of God's saving help and the reality of the struggle to survive in impossible circumstances refuses to be easily solved. I can only imagine how Second Isaiah's certainty concerning the Hebrew people's deliverance from exile (Isaiah 62:1-5) must have sounded to his audience. He uses soaring language, as he reports God's promise, "For Jerusalem's sake I will not rest until her vindication shines out like the dawn and her salvation like a burning torch..." Could anyone take the prophet seriously while they were captive in a foreign land, knowing Jerusalem lay in ruins -- her walls flattened, the holy Temple nothing more than a heap of rubble and the sacred vessels from the Temple stored away in a Babylonian treasure vault?
The psalms realistically declare over and over that the hope of the faithful does not rest in the fickleness of human volition or in a glib superstition that being "chosen" inherently means being "protected" from the tragedies so much a part of the fraility of human life. This week's passage (Psalm 36:5-10) reminds us that the place of refuge, the place where humans most see God is in the shadows. Under the shadow (covering) of God's Presence, we are afforded a place of respite even in the darkest hours of distress.
As we read the laundry list of charismata (spiritual gifts) Paul describes (1 Corinthians 12:1-11), we are reminded that, for the early followers of Jesus -- often persecuted, often poor and marginalized, often maligned and misunderstood -- the experience of the Spirit was fundamental to their continued survival. The early Church, we are told, knew something of the immediacy of God's presence through all sorts of "manifestations" (epiphanies!) of God's Spirit at work in the lives of the faithful. Variety of gifts. Variety of services. Variety of activities. All of which are activated by the same God -- in everyone.
There is an interesting order implied in Paul's rhetoric. The iniative is God's. The response is ours. The charismata are manifested (made known) in the dynamic interplay between initiative and response.
In the Gospel reading (John 2:1-11), the order seems reversed. The initiative comes from the Mother of Jesus when she says, "They have no wine." At first, Jesus' response is non-commital (or maybe even downright curt!). But by the end of the story, something has happened which has "revealed his [Jesus'] glory". The result? His disciples "believed in him".
In light of the earthquake-induced darkness of death and suffering proliferating in Haiti, the prophet's certainty, the pslamist's poetry and Paul's theology of the Spirit can seem either hopelessly simplistic or horrifically out of touch with the "real world". A world of unpredictability and randomness. A world where people die in the midst of a worship service. A world where the earth shakes without warning, buildings collapse and burn, and people are buried alive. In this sort of world, the water-into-wine story from the Fourth Gospel doesn't seem so much like a miracle as a magic show.
How are we to respond? How are we to believe? How are we to be of any assistance in the face of such insurmountable need?
How priceless is your love, O God!
your people take refuge under the shadow of your wings. (Psalm 36:7)
As I began to think about this week's lessons, I was powerfully aware of the contradiction between the abundance of God's grace and glory presented in the words we will be reading in worship on Sunday and the apparent absence of that grace and glory from the images we are receiving in our living rooms detailing the tragedy unfolding in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. Destruction. Devastation. Death. Where is the Epiphany light?
This difficult juxtaposition between the assurances of God's saving help and the reality of the struggle to survive in impossible circumstances refuses to be easily solved. I can only imagine how Second Isaiah's certainty concerning the Hebrew people's deliverance from exile (Isaiah 62:1-5) must have sounded to his audience. He uses soaring language, as he reports God's promise, "For Jerusalem's sake I will not rest until her vindication shines out like the dawn and her salvation like a burning torch..." Could anyone take the prophet seriously while they were captive in a foreign land, knowing Jerusalem lay in ruins -- her walls flattened, the holy Temple nothing more than a heap of rubble and the sacred vessels from the Temple stored away in a Babylonian treasure vault?
The psalms realistically declare over and over that the hope of the faithful does not rest in the fickleness of human volition or in a glib superstition that being "chosen" inherently means being "protected" from the tragedies so much a part of the fraility of human life. This week's passage (Psalm 36:5-10) reminds us that the place of refuge, the place where humans most see God is in the shadows. Under the shadow (covering) of God's Presence, we are afforded a place of respite even in the darkest hours of distress.
As we read the laundry list of charismata (spiritual gifts) Paul describes (1 Corinthians 12:1-11), we are reminded that, for the early followers of Jesus -- often persecuted, often poor and marginalized, often maligned and misunderstood -- the experience of the Spirit was fundamental to their continued survival. The early Church, we are told, knew something of the immediacy of God's presence through all sorts of "manifestations" (epiphanies!) of God's Spirit at work in the lives of the faithful. Variety of gifts. Variety of services. Variety of activities. All of which are activated by the same God -- in everyone.
There is an interesting order implied in Paul's rhetoric. The iniative is God's. The response is ours. The charismata are manifested (made known) in the dynamic interplay between initiative and response.
In the Gospel reading (John 2:1-11), the order seems reversed. The initiative comes from the Mother of Jesus when she says, "They have no wine." At first, Jesus' response is non-commital (or maybe even downright curt!). But by the end of the story, something has happened which has "revealed his [Jesus'] glory". The result? His disciples "believed in him".
In light of the earthquake-induced darkness of death and suffering proliferating in Haiti, the prophet's certainty, the pslamist's poetry and Paul's theology of the Spirit can seem either hopelessly simplistic or horrifically out of touch with the "real world". A world of unpredictability and randomness. A world where people die in the midst of a worship service. A world where the earth shakes without warning, buildings collapse and burn, and people are buried alive. In this sort of world, the water-into-wine story from the Fourth Gospel doesn't seem so much like a miracle as a magic show.
How are we to respond? How are we to believe? How are we to be of any assistance in the face of such insurmountable need?
We do what our Baptism calls us to do. We work and pray and give. We offer the gifts we have -- gifts that were given to us by God in the first place. We groan and cry and give thanks that our hearts can still be broken for people in need. Broken hearts can become generous and compassionate hearts...and healing can begin.
Almighty God, whose Son our Savior Jesus Christ is the light of the world: Grant that your people, illumined by your Word and Sacraments, may shine with the radiance of Christ's glory, that he may be known, worshiped, and obeyed to the ends of the earth; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, now and for ever. Amen. (Collect for the Second Sunday after the Epiphany, BCP, p. 215)
posted by FrGaryB | 3:57 AM
2 Comments:
Thanks for this Gary. It helps when I combine it with the readings in the bible for this week. Blessings to you
Thank you.
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