Feasting, good wine and healing the soul...

NOTE:  Here are my worship notes for this coming Sunday, January 20, 2013.

Introduction

I love a feast – you probably didn’t know that about me given my, oh so svelte shape – but I think feasting is one of the Lord’s greatest blessings to the world.  At a true feast everything ordinary points to the sacred – everything sensual becomes simultaneously spiritual – and everything shared becomes a sign of God’s will for creation where “sharing by all will mean scarcity for none.”  The Reverend Holly Whitcomb puts it like this in one of my favorite books, To Feast with God:

Through the ritual of a shared meal, hospitality is extended and acquaintances become friends and companions.  The word companion, you see, comes from the Latin:  cum, meaning “with,” and “panis, meaning “bread.”  Our companions are those with whom we share meals… those with whom we break bread… and it is no accident that the word sacrament – as in Holy Communion or Eucharist – is derived from root words meaning “mystery” and “sacred feast.” (pp. 1-2)

When I look back on many of my most treasured memories, I’m not surprised to find that they often involve feasting:

·       Thanksgiving dinners with my extended family as a child…

·       The square dance and potluck when Dianne and I were married back in Cleveland…

·       My daughter Jesse’s massive, big fat Italian wedding feast under the night sky in New Jersey…

·       My daughter Michal’s exquisite holiday breads whenever she is in town…

·       The gift of a sacred and festive meal our daughters gave us at the Rumi restaurant in Montreal last summer when we celebrated our 50^th/60^th birthdays…

Theologian and Old Testament scholar, Walter Brueggemann has called these feasts – and the prayers we share at them – “brief Sabbaths when we live by gift and know that we are strangely sustained, nurtured and nourished.” 

·       So let me ask if you have memories of a favorite meal that continues to bring you blessing when you re-member it?

·       Are then any special ones that you can name for us…?

This morning’s gospel story is all about feasting:  it tells us something of God’s abundant grace that can never be fully described but can be felt and tasted and touched.  It speaks to us of how this grace is so often revealed in the most unlikely places – a wedding, bread and wine, water among the tired servants, in our homes praying when we wash our hands – places that are hardly spectacular or sacred so we’re apt to miss the glory of the Lord – but it is there.  And when we notice – and embrace this grace – we know from the inside out that blessings abound even in these small things.

·       Last week, you may recall that I invited you – and we agreed to try – to offer up a small prayer of remembrance every time we used water.  The prayer was:  I am God’s beloved child sent to make a difference in the world.

·       Did anybody remember to give this a try?  I am God’s beloved child sent to make a difference in the world.  I found it refreshing and have loved praying it in the shower or whenever I wash my hands.  What was your experience?

The smallest things can become paths into the glory of God’s grace – signs of the holy within our ordinary humanity – and I think that is part of what we’re called to consider this morning in the story of the water and wine at the wedding in Cana of Galilee.  So let’s spend a little time with this story and see what it might means for us in our generation.

Insights

At the outset let me ask you three quick questions that might help give this story depth and context.  I think it often helps to have a little background before trying to discern what the words might mean for our time, ok?

·       First, in John’s gospel Mary, the mother of our Lord, appears only two times:  she begins the narrative of Christ’s life at the wedding feast in Cana and closes the story by standing with her son at the foot of his Cross.  This is to say, she brackets and surrounds the earthly ministry of Jesus.  Why do think that is important – what does this say to you?

·       Second, why do you think that John chooses a wedding feast to kick off his narrative about the public ministry of Jesus?  Each of the other gospels tell a different story – Luke begins with Jesus returning to his home town and teaching in the synagogue, Mark gives us an exorcism and Matthew gets things rolling with the Sermon on the Mount – why is it that John tells the story of a wedding feast to describe the ministry of Jesus?

·       And third, John wants us to know that the water that could be used for ritual hand washing - a prayerful way of remembering the presence and blessings of God at each meal – had now become wine.  What does wine represent – and what significance is there in turning the water of ritual into something for the feast – in this story?

It is my hunch that one of the truths St. John wants us to wrestle with in his gospel is that God’s grace cannot be described – it has to be experienced.  Don’t get me wrong, people of faith usually feel compelled to try to describe God’s love – we sing about it, pray about it, preach about it, write about it, celebrate feasts about it and create various forms of art and literature about it – and we’ve been doing this since the beginning of time. 

·       The cave paintings in Lascaux, France are 20,000 years old and they are trying to express something of encountering a sacred awe and joy and love. 

·       The songs of the birds or the crackling ice of the earth when the sun comes up each morning are doing the same thing. 

·       Maybe you have a favorite hymn or church song?  It too is an attempt to express what we feel in our hearts when we’ve know God’s grace.

And that’s the key – we have to feel it and experience it – not just talk about it or hear about it in the abstract because grace works from the inside out.  That’s why John’s gospel begins by saying that God’s Word – the essence of the Lord’s love – became flesh and took up residence within and among us.  It became real – inside us and inside Christ Jesus – and the rest of St. John’s story attempts to show us what grace feels like – and tastes like – and smells like – and looks like and sounds like, ok? (Nancy Rockwell, Working Preacher @ workingpreacher.org)  God’s grace really can’t be described – it can only be experienced.

·       Are you with me here?  Am I communicating with you? 

·       John’s gospel is filled with what he calls signs – not miracles – but signs about God’s grace: scripture says that Jesus shared this first sign with them in Cana of Galilee to reveal his glory – and his disciples believed in him.

Now let’s be clear:  signs show us but don’t tell or describe for us what God’s abundant and amazing grace is all about.  They point us to an experience – in this case sipping the best wine of all – and then ask:  what does sipping grace taste like?  Do you follow?  Too often, you see, religion tries to tell people things about Jesus but John says:  taste – and then you’ll see.

·       Have you ever tasted really good wine?  What was the occasion?

·       How does it differ from the cheapo stuff – can you tell us?

You see how all of our words – as true and passionate as they are – can’t compare to tasting a truly fine glass of wine?  John’s way of sharing the good news is experiential – taste and then see – come to the feast and then like the disciples you, too can believe.  And just so that we don’t overlook the sensual and embodied truth of this way of being faithful, John gives us all these details: 

·       There are 6 massive water jars that probably held 30 gallons each – and at the start of the story it appears that they are empty – but wind-up filled to the top. Who fills them?  The host of the wedding?  Jesus or Mary? 

·         No, the servants – those on the outside of the feast looking in – they do the heavy lifting.  And interestingly, it is the very same servants who are doing all the work who first notice that these ritual washing jugs are no longer filled with water but are now filled full with wine.  Why do you suppose that is detail important?

And we’re not talking about just any old wine, but the best wine of all:  could it be that these details are telling us that when we feast upon God’s abundant and delicious grace what was once empty can be filled?  What was once ordinary can become extraordinary?  What was once an old vessel can become a fount for nourishing and healing and hope?  How did the poetic prophet of Israel put it in the reading from Isaiah?

You’ll get a brand-new name straight from the mouth of God. You’ll be a stunning crown in the palm of God’s hand, a jeweled gold cup held high in the hand of your God. No more will anyone call you Rejected and your country will no more be called Ruined. You’ll be called Hephzibah (My Delight), and your land Beulah (Betrothed), because God delights in you and your land will be like a wedding celebration and feast.

Imagine our old vessels – our bodies, our church, our nation – filled to overflowing with bounty and beauty born of God’s grace?  And not by our own effort, we all know that doesn’t work; no, by sipping the abundant grace of the Lord and letting God’s sweet wine transform and fill us from the inside out. You know, every time I washed my hands last week and remembered to pray, I am God’s beloved child sent to make a difference in the world, I literally experienced two things:

·       First, I smiled:  sometimes looking at myself in the mirror and other times in the darkness I experienced myself smiling in prayer because I was starting to trust  that I really was God’s beloved, if only for that moment.  I felt a taste of grace as the water reminded me I really was God’s beloved sent to make a difference in the world.

·       And second that smile caused me to wonder how we might invite others into this experience of grace – the new and best wine of all – a living taste of life as God’s beloved.  I kept asking myself how the feast might be shared and deepened and over and over it kept coming back to me:  taste and see the goodness of the Lord.

Conclusion

This is the weekend when people of integrity will pause to give honor for the life of Martin Luther King, Jr.  It is also just about a month since the massacre of children and teachers took place at Sandy Hook Elementary School.   As many of you know, I have some very deep concerns about what needs to start taking place throughout America as a consequence of this act of domestic terrorism – and at some appropriate time in the future I will share my reflections with you in greater depth – knowing that even people of good will are likely to disagree and misunderstand one another as we seek a path towards common ground.

Perhaps that is why I believe the parents and families of the slain children of Sandy Hook are on to something with their Sandy Hook Promise that simply states:   I Promise to honor the 26 lives lost at Sandy Hook Elementary School.  I Promise to do everything I can to encourage and support common sense solutions that make my community and our country safer from similar acts of violence.

There is nothing partisan or even political in the traditional use of the word in this promise; it is a simple invitation to be open to the experience of this moment and find a way to be nourished by it even in the midst of our pain.  And that got me to thinking, “What would the mother of our Lord Jesus ask of him at a time like this?  What did Mary ask of Jesus at the wedding feast?” 

·       Clearly it has something to do with the wine – tasting and experiencing God’s grace in a flesh and blood way – and at first Jesus didn’t want to act.  “Momma, the time isn’t right and I’m not ready” he told her but she was persistent, yes? 

·       Well that reminded me of another woman, Mrs. Rosa Parks, who once asked another young man in the very early days of his new ministry to get involved.  When Mrs. Parks asked a young Dr. King if he would do his part in changing the suffering and humiliation of the lives of the African American community in Montgomery, Alabama. At first he was reluctant, too.

Truth be told, Dr. King didn’t want to act at that moment – the time wasn’t right and he had other things to attend to in his new ministry. But Mrs. Parks was persistent – and when reluctance finally became too tiring for her she just sat down and refused to get up.  Then Dr. King, like so many others, found themselves provoked into action on behalf of God’s kingdom – and life in these United States has not been the same since.

Since last September when our Monday night study group read Parker Palmer’s Healing the Heart of Democracy, I’ve been holding an idea in my hear like Mary t that I think makes sense now.  Palmer tells the story of an African American church in DC that became a profound presence for hope and healing in the community.  And when he asked the pastor, “What is your secret?” he writes that he was hoping to be informed of some “state of the art theories and techniques of community organizing. But, instead, the pastor simply smiled and said… potlucks.”

This is, of course, a secret hidden in plain sight:  breaking bread together is one of the best ways to create community, a celebrated sacrament in the Christian tradition.  And in this Baptist church, potluck suppers were often held before and after various community actions… these suppers usually had a brief agenda focused on questions that would help those who gathered reflect on the issue at hand… and (over time) as parishioners discovered the power of breaking bread around matters of shared concern, they began convening other potlucks within and beyond their congregation for other people wrestling with difficult and often contentious topics… (Palmer, pp. 142-3)

So I’ve wondered could it be that the time has come for us, like Mary speaking to Jesus or Rosa Parks speaking to a young MLK, to simply throw a feast?  Set up a potluck dedicated to exploring common sense solutions that make our community and our country safer from acts of violence and invite all people of good will to break bread together?   I think yes – both because it is a gentle and tender way of being present to our grief, and, because America needs a way through our current dryness. 

Palmer concludes his chapter noting that:

 

Open and honest conversations in a setting of deep hospitality, held as an ongoing program of a congregation, can plant seeds of healing ad civic unity around... a variety of contentious and painful issues in our time.  And when a meal between conflicted parties begins with everyone bringing food to share, the silent subtext of the conversation is: we have the capacity to care for one another and collaborate toward a common good. 

 

Dr. King once said:  “History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good.”  I don’t know about you, but I hear Mother Mary calling us to get ready for some feasting… that the new wine might be poured and a little bit of hope restored.  Take a moment now in the quiet to see what the Spirit is saying to your heart.