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.
