The Second Sunday after the Epiphany: Sharing Our Gifts

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

John 2:1-11

On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, "They have no wine." And Jesus said to her, "Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come." His mother said to the servants, "Do whatever he tells you." Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, "Fill the jars with water." And they filled them up to the brim. He said to them, "Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward." So they took it. When the steward tasted the water that had become wine and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now." Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.

1 Corinthians 12:1-11

Now concerning spiritual gifts, brothers and sisters, I do not want you to be uninformed. You know that when you were pagans, you were enticed and led astray to idols that could not speak. Therefore I want you to understand that no one speaking by the Spirit of God ever says "Let Jesus be cursed!" and no one can say "Jesus is Lord" except by the Holy Spirit.

Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good. To one is given through the Spirit the utterance of wisdom, and to another the utterance of knowledge according to the same Spirit, to another faith by the same Spirit, to another gifts of healing by the one Spirit, to another the working of miracles, to another prophecy, to another the discernment of spirits, to another various kinds of tongues, to another the interpretation of tongues. All these are activated by one and the same Spirit, who allots to each one individually just as the Spirit chooses.

I’ve always thought that this gospel would be just perfect for the second Sunday in May because that’s Mother’s Day. That usually falls during Easter season and this isn’t an Easter kind of story. But this interaction between Mary and Jesus – with God at the center - is so true to life and so relate-able, reveals both the human and the divine story in both of them.  So forgive me if I spend a little time on Mary and her part in this. Just as we heard in Advent, this Epiphany moment is largely here because she nudges it into being. Jesus ministry starts in an unlikely time and place with her not-so-subtle prompting that we can safely assume came to her from God.

Those of us who were fortunate to have someone in our lives who was proactive in mothering us – whether it was our actual mother or someone who took that role – can understand Jesus’ reaction to Mary’s prompting. Did you have a mom who pushed you to get out on that stage, or that athletic field, or join a debate club, or a church choir, enter the science fair or go out and play with the new kid in the neighborhood?  Moms do that.  Moms tend to be partners with God in many ways. Of all the people in our lives, mothers tend to see us as God sees us – through eyes and hearts brimming with love and confidence and pride and joy. 

Jesus reacts to her the same way we might respond to our pushy mothers. Whatever timing he has in mind, this isn’t it. He’s abrupt with her:  leave it alone, don’t push me. Maybe even don’t embarrass me in front of my friends by telling me what to do. I’m not ready.

Mary pretty much ignores that and assumes that Jesus is going to be a good son and listen to his mother-and he does. Why wouldn’t he?  It’s safe to assume that Jesus knows the circumstances of his birth, has heard how angels visited both his parents. How God clearly favored them and called upon them to accomplish great things. And they said yes, even though it wasn’t a good time or place to do so. Perhaps initiating the revelation of the glory of God on earth right then in the pantry of a country wedding with a few servants looking on was one of those great things. Mary is a woman we can trust to be connected to God and pay attention to God’s promptings throughout all time. 

Now, this story is not about the bride and groom or the needs of the wedding guests. It is about Jesus. This first time that Jesus made his full self known, even to his disciples, he did so in response to real and important human need. To run out of wine in the middle of a wedding celebration would have been so shameful the couple never would have heard the end of it. And Jesus responded to that human need with the simplest of things – water, clay jars, a ladle. He created something new, created wonder, taking them out of their places of common understanding.

Jesus revealed himself for the sake of others. Who he was and what he had was not for him. It was always and only for others from the very beginning.

Keep that in mind as we think for a minute about the Epistle. The verses we heard today from Paul address peculiar things that were going on in the church in Corinth in the first century – things that were selfish and unkind. They were a religious community gone far from The Way of Jesus Christ.  Clearly they were not invested in the idea of doing the loving thing. There was a strong sense of who is best and who is the rest.

And they appear to have been having different spiritual experiences and encounters with God - which is not a bad thing - but they were getting possessive and competitive about it. They were saying things like, “this gift is mine, this way of doing things is mine, this spirituality is mine.”

What Paul says to them is what Jesus made real when the wine at the wedding gave out. Paul tells the Corinthians, “what you have is simply not for you. What you have is for others.” To each is given the presence of the spirit for the common good. This is a fundamental spiritual truth about the nature and purpose of God and God’s dream for God’s people. Then and now.

The gifts we are given – the ones we like and the ones we don’t especially like – are not for us. Maybe even not about us. All that we have has been gifted to us by God. It is given us so that we might be givers, so that we might build up, so that we might help, so that we might be a part of something greater, so that we might serve our neighbors and build up this place in this time for the Kingdom of God. In one way or another, that is the purpose of our lives, and everything in them.

The church members in Corinth couldn’t possibly get their community aligned with God’s dream for them until they realized that what they had was not for them or about them. It was given to them so they could use it to give, and to build, and to help, and to create.

What Jesus had that made him special, and unique was not given to him for his own sake. It was given so Jesus could choose to give all of himself for all of us. 

At the wedding in Cana of Galilee, Jesus chose to abandon his own plans and his own schedule, and to reach out. And because he did there was plenty of wine for the guests of the wedding couple. There was an absolute deluge of excellent wine.  One expert believes that based on the number and size of jars of water, he created 600 bottles.  From simple clay jars, from water.  God through Jesus took what seems simple to us and made it into a sacrament. 

We are invited in this gospel to trust in God’s generosity and abundance. To rejoice in it. To search endlessly for it.  No better example of the gift of abundance in our lives than air – so complex but so simple. These last few days since our rain storms the air has been sweet and clear.  Those of you who are knowledgeable about physical sciences – and that would be virtually all of you here compared to me – know that air is made up of many chemicals mostly nitrogen and oxygen and dozens of lesser and trace chemicals.  But when we take it in, it is so simple.  It’s a complex gift given to us in a simple accessible way. Just go outside. Just breathe.  I only understood this through the eyes and experience of my friend Phil. 

Phil suffered from a lung disease that at times would be so severe that he would end up in the hospital. He needed help of machines to be able to breath. After one particularly serious episode we talked about how he now treasured the simple gift of air, of the ability to take a deep breath that he had taken for granted most of his life. Now her understood it as a sacrament – an ordinary thing made holy when seen through new eyes. “When I can fill my lungs with air, he said “it extinguishes fear. And I understand how completely God holds me.” 

Rabbi Abraham Heschel said that “Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement. To get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually.”

So, how do we do this? Listen to Mary. Do whatever Jesus tells you.  Jesus gives us simple, straightforward things to do. There are lots of verbs in the gospels that really aren’t hard to understand when it comes right down to it. Jesus tells us to love, share, give, serve, listen, learn, worship, pray. The mundane becomes miraculous. When we do these things, the old inferior wine is forgotten. It‘s all good wine now. God’s Kingdom increases by and through each of us. 

This is not magic. This is the true connection to the Creator – God in Jesus, Jesus in God.  Every Epiphany is a moment of creation, even for us. An uncovering that shows us that our hour has come to follow him. As simple and pure and accessible and uncomplicated as a long deep in-take of breath. 

Mary gives the answer: do whatever he tells you. Seek life at its source. Seek joy at its source. Seek to know what Jesus Christ asks of you. This is the key for joining Jesus in his new way of being in the world. Take a deep breath today. For yourself, in empathy with those who cannot, to take away the fear and instead live in amazement of the simple gifts we’re given. Amen.

The Fourth Sunday of Advent: The Magnificat

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

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Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

Luke 1:39-55

In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth.

When Elizabeth heard Mary's greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

And Mary said,

“My soul magnifies the Lord,

and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.

Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;

for the Mighty One has done great things for me,

and holy is his name.

His mercy is for those who fear him

from generation to generation.

He has shown strength with his arm;

he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.

He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,

and lifted up the lowly;

he has filled the hungry with good things,

and sent the rich away empty.

He has helped his servant Israel,

in remembrance of his mercy,

according to the promise he made to our ancestors,

to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

 The gospel writer today gifts us with a brief story about genuine connection between two pregnant women of different generations. And in this connection we get to see God at work in a deeply personal way that also just happens to change the world. God starts the salvation story by choosing a poor young girl, her aged cousin, a kick of recognition and a song.

And we hear Mary’s story is in her song, the first Advent hymn. It tells us that she knows who God is and what God is about.  She understands that her “yes” to God is a “yes” to everything that God has always been - one who scatters the self-centered and hard hearted, who takes away their power in favor of the lowly and fills up those who hunger for truth and justice. It tells of Mary’s expectations for what her son will accomplish – wondrous reversals in the world upsetting the status quo and inverting human structures and values. There is fire in Mary’s song.

It underlines that the focus of Christmas is on those who struggle with the realities of life. This story reminds many that, in the midst of their struggles, hope is born. Not in any way as a denial of their realities, but confirming them.

This story of Mary and Elizabeth reminds me of my relationship with my much older cousin. I have an unusual family situation: both of my parents were only children. So I have no aunts or uncles and no cousins of my own. My mother, though, had a cousin, Carolyn, who was 35 years older than I was. Carolyn and I had a similar story. Like me she was married many years and did not have children. In my 20’s and 30’s I had a big and rich circle of girlfriends. And in the natural course of life, each of them started to have children. As this happened, I was so happy for them. But it meant that they sought community with other new moms. Naturally they sought support and connection with other women who were also giving birth and raising children. So I saw my relationships with each of them diminish and fade away. And I felt those losses deeply. It was a source of grief. 

But God in God’s mercy at that time helped me renew my connection with my mother’s cousin, Carolyn. We started to spend time together. She lived in Arizona and I would make the trip to see her. We discovered that we had interests in common that I didn’t share with anyone else or with my mother. Carolyn, who had been a widow for many years, referred to her friends as “the widow ladies.”  She took care of them. Every time I visited we did something for them. We would visit them and run errands for them. Carolyn would say there’s someone who needs a plate and we would fix food and take it to them. She showed me that there was more than one way to engage in mothering.

What a tremendous, what a tremendous gift of connection. Like Elizabeth recognizing in Mary that she had a critical role in the salvation of the world, Carolyn helped me realize what I could do. I don’t remember either of us ever bursting into song but I think we both felt filled up and empowered after our visits. That’s why I love this powerful story of the connection and mutual support of these women.

Mary is remarkable because she knew what she was getting into because she was well acquainted with the God of Israel. There was no learning curve for her the way there was for me. Perhaps she was one of those courageous girls who craved knowledge about the kings, prophets, heroes and heroines of Judaism and pestered someone to teach her.

Would it surprise you to learn that Mary is not the first to sing this song? Perhaps it was among well known among the young women.  It’s from the Book of 1 Samuel. It was sung by another pregnant woman, Hannah the mother of Samuel, the great priest and prophet. Hannah was unable to have a child for a very long time. She was a subordinate wife who endured incessant teasing by the wife who was able to bear children. But Hannah finally has a son. And when she does, she dedicates him to the temple to become a priest. She sings something very like the song we heard today from Mary. Hannah’s story and song emboldens Mary in hers.

We delight in singing about the mighty works of God this time of year. We find it easy and comforting to sing about God bringing peace and joy into the world. The Magnificat can be read as an invitation to sing along with Mary about our part in that divine action. This is what Jesus’ incarnation tells us. It’s what Mary is telling us: that God brings peace, and joy, and love, and hope to the world through us, by magnifying God’s grace and spirit through us.

“My soul magnifies the Lord,” can mean that through me, through you, through all of us, others can see God’s powerful actions of love more clearly. Through me and through you, through the way we choose to live our lives and practice our faith in the world people can catch a sustained glimpse of God’s justice and peace.

Through each of us, through our words and our actions, through all that we do, we magnify God. We magnify God’s being with our own bodies. We magnify God’s action with our own practices. We magnify God’s word with our words in the world. God is the one who acts. We magnify that action and give it hands and feet and hearts and minds. We collaborate with God in the divine actions of lifting up of the lowly.

A good question to think about in this week leading up to Christmas might be: how is the Lord magnified in me, in my soul?  That’s a big question. It’s easy to think that it’s too big for any one of us to handle. But another important lesson the Magnificat teaches is that you are more than enough to contribute significantly to God’s work in the world. Whoever you are, whatever you have or haven’t done, you are enough. You are more than enough. The song of Mary reminds us of all of the scriptures, of all of the people where “who me?” is the vehicle for salvation.

Bethlehem is nothing special. Hannah was unimportant. Elizabeth was also thought to be barren, and felt disgraced. And Mary is merely an underage woman from the nondescript town of Nazareth engaged to a man we’re told is from the house of David. But that doesn’t really make Joseph all that special; a lot of people were distantly related to David.

All throughout scripture, whenever God wants to do something, it’s the seemingly insignificant and ordinary people that God uses. When God wants to create, God reaches into the mud. When God wants to raise up a king for Israel, God chooses the youngest of many sons, the one sent out to watch his father’s sheep. When God wants to redeem all of creation, God enters in fully and completely as one of the most vulnerable creatures on the planet, a baby.

And just like Mary and Hannah and Elizabeth, we are enough. Each of us is enough to magnify God. Imagine what would happen if we let God work. If we truly made room for God to be born in our hearts. If we let God magnify the good work that God has begun and is already doing in each of us. What if we joined together with others to magnify that work? Imagine the world that would be born from that.

The Christmas story is not an affirmation of those who have, and those who can afford more–and yet, ironically, need it less–but the story of a God who enters lives at their deepest vulnerability and need. Christ is not born in triumph, but in the ordinariness of life, into lives of fractured relationships, lives of deferred or destroyed dreams, lives of alienation and isolation.

As we prepare to welcome Christ once more into our hearts and our homes, may our souls magnify more and more the glory of God and our hearts exult in the goodness of God, this day and always. As Mary says may we also say “The Lord has done great things for me. Amen.