Homily for 2nd Sunday Ordinary Time

2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time 2013

Miracles & Signs

Most of you have probably heard the old joke about the man stuck on his roof in rising flood waters who just keeps praying that God will deliver him to safety. The waters are rising at an extraordinary pace. The wind is howling. Everyone else in the neighborhood is either already out of danger. But this man clings to his roof shingles and keeps praying out loud: “God, save me from this danger.”

A neighbor floats up in his row boat and cries: “please jump in.” But the man says: “No, I’ll be okay; God will not let me down.” A few minutes later, a police boat drives up and begs him to grab the rope to safety. But again the man says: “No, I’ll be okay. God will not let me down.” Finally, a Coast Guard helicopter hovers overhead and its bull-horn urges the man to climb the ladder to safety. But again the man says: “No thanks! God will not let me down, I know it.” The waters rage, the wind howls, and the man is finally swept off his roof.

He arrives at the pearly gates where St. Peter says: “God’s been waiting for you.” The man approaches God and in his most perplexed voice says: “How could you let me down that way? Where were you?” God looks even more puzzled and says: “Give me a break! Who do you think sent you a rowboat, a police boat, and a helicopter?”

As we begin the season of Ordinary Time, that same question, “Where is God among us?” is just as relevant today. For weeks now, all throughout the Advent and Christmas seasons, we’ve been proclaiming Emmanuel, God is with us. But the ordinary question we return to today is: Exactly how is God with us? How and where do we find the presence of God in everyday life, in our lives? How does God act in the world these days? And just like in the story about the man on his roof waiting for something spectacular to happen, we find that God, in fact, comes in a variety of ways. He comes in ways that often surprise us not because they are always spectacular or stunning, but because they lie right under our noses.

John’s gospel this morning illustrates well that sometimes God’s manifestation still can be stunning. Wouldn’t it be nice if at every dinner party someone would

transform Augusta’s dreadful tap water into a fine red wine? Now, that’s just not going to happen, trust me. But remember, for John, Jesus’ miracles are not so much about defying the physical laws of nature. The miracles are for John signs, or pointers. He says in today’s gospel this “miracle” at Cana was the first of Jesus’ signs.

A sign usually leads us to something else. We presume it’s pointing beyond itself to another thing, person, or situation. In John’s gospel, the miracles are always pointing us to something deeper, something with profound theological insight.

 There are signs of God’s presence, signs of who this Jesus really is, signs of Jesus’ manifestation. This gospel story is really still a part of the Epiphany celebration. It proclaims that God’s signs are all around us.

          We live in the year 2013, a time when it seems that secularism is about to engulf us. Modern folks don’t place much stock in miracles anymore. They seem quaint, somehow primitive–especially when they are on the grand scale of violating nature’s rather predictable laws. But if you think with John, and think of miracle as a signpost, a pointer, then who has not experienced a miracle?

Some of you here work in education (perhaps right here at St Mary’s). If you teach anything at all, I’ sure you’ve had the experience of watching a young mind and heart explode with freshness and excitement at learning something new. It may not happen often, but when it does, haven’t you often felt (if not said): “My God, it’s a miracle!” At least it can be a sign / of freshness, of growth, of graciousness, of hope, a sign of God.

Or those of you who work in health services, how often have you experienced the totally unexpected, totally unexplained? How often have you experienced first-hand the difference between cures and healing? Sometimes you get strangely lucky and you get to experience what actually looks like old-fashioned miracles. But even more often, I suspect, if you are looking, you can see the unmistakable signs of healing, or of peace, or of tranquility even in the face of imminent death, for example. Simple inner peace is a remarkable gift for any of us at any time in life. Peace is in itself, a miracle, a sign of God’s promise.

Right here at St Mary’s, we’ve witnessed the experience of Brennan Simpkins, and his miraculous healing from cancer. He spent a long time at St Jude’s, and after repeated bone marrow transplants, he’s back at school now.

Strange things do happen. Miracles do happen. And signs are all

around us. That brings us to St. Paul’s instruction today. Are you still looking for how God’s presence manifests itself in human history? Do you still want to know how God acts in your own world? Paul says: look around! And listen to each other. Sometimes God speaks in wise people, and we’ve all probably known one or two people of wisdom in our lives. Sometimes in knowledgeable and learned people. Other times through persons of great faith. At times through healers. Sometimes in persons of great courage and integrity. These are the gifts of the Spirit, Paul tells us.

Sometimes God’s signs come through churches, other times the signs have nothing to do with churches. At times God’s signs bring peace and tranquility; sometimes God’s signs bring discord and great confusion. This baby Jesus we  celebrated at Christmas, this adult Jesus at Cana, “has come for the rise–and fall–of many.”

But, Paul says, there is only one Spirit behind all the signs, one Spirit who is clothed in flesh, now only in us. That Spirit speaks now only through us. It’s not just polite to listen to each other on occasion; it’s the only way to hear the signs of God’s presence, to experience the miracles of today’s world. They are in us–quite literally–waiting to be heard. Look around in this church. Isn’t that a scary thought? Right next to you–or in front or behind you–may be today’s miracle waiting to happen. St. Paul was not kidding. Neither am I.

Now if you are still feeling cynicism about all this miracle-talk, at least take a cue from the headwaiter in today’s gospel. I imagine him somewhat perplexed, feeling a touch angry perhaps, at the very least curious, when he says to the bridegroom: “Hey, what’s up? You’ve saved the best stuff for last; this crowd has been drinking all day, I doubt they can appreciate this wine. But, it sure is good wine.”

The waiter at least has the openness to appreciate the graciousness and gift of what sits under his nose. “Ah, and a lovely bouquet it is indeed.” God’s graciousness and gift to us all. And it is here! So, my brothers and sisters, miracles still do happen. Signs of God’s presence, and peace, and promise are waiting to be discovered and celebrated. So please make sure the next time your very own personal flood waters are raging, and you are grasping onto the roof for dear life, don’t miss the rope, or the ladder, or the helicopter. None of us, I’m sure, really wants to hear God say to us at the pearly gate: “Give me a break! Look at all the signs I sent you; look at all the people I gave you. And you let them all float by.”

Welcome back to so-called Ordinary Time; maybe we won’t find it quite so ordinary after all.