“Hope and Uncertainty”

January 17, 2010

Amos 9:11-15

John 2:1-11

The news of the earthquake in Haiti started coming to us on Tuesday evening. We awoke in our comfortable homes on Wednesday morning to photographs and film of widespread destruction and a death toll described by the president of Haiti as “unimaginable.” The rest of the week was filled with finding out what had happened, what could be done, and how we might contribute to relief and recovery efforts.

At one point the Gospel lesson about weddings and wine seemed far removed from the concerns of most of us. But I read John’s story about Jesus in Cana this morning because it speaks to us in ways deeper than we might first imagine.

First—and this pretty well goes without saying here, but nevertheless—we recognize that earthquakes—or any natural disasters—do not indicate the judgment of God in any way. In fact, we could say that the Bible makes us unable to talk in such terms. And yet there was Pat Robertson once again—claiming that Haiti suffers as much as it does because it made a pact with the Devil. A pact with the Devil! Why anyone listens to this kind of nonsense is a mystery to me.

Andrew Apter, a professor of history and anthropology at UCLA spoke for more calm minds when he said this past week that “the reason Haiti is poor is because Europe imposed a blockade on trade after the slave revolt in 1804, and you have an extremely polarized class structure in which a few families stepped into the positions of the former colonial plantation owners. There has been a horrible cycle of plundering and autocracy within Haitian leadership.”[1] If the Devil has been involved anywhere it is in the slavery and the colonialism, and the global economic plunder that is Haiti’s heritage.

Human beings brought destitution upon Haiti. And in this earthquake we see not God’s judgment but nature’s unknowing indifference toward human affairs. The rain falls on the just and the unjust alike, we are told. The deserving and the undeserving all receive the benefits and the liabilities of this natural world.

In the wake of the disaster in Haiti, people of various faiths around the world are trying to understand the role of God in tragedy and suffering. I do hope that in their sufferings God is present; that there is something—even someone—who will work to bring good out of evil, life out of death.

Martin Luther King, Jr., whose birthday we celebrate tomorrow, who knew enough of struggle and suffering, wrote over forty years ago:

In recent months I have become more and more convinced of the reality of a personal God. . . . This is a living reality that has been validated in the experiences of everyday life. Perhaps the suffering, frustration, and agonizing moments which I have had to undergo occasionally as a result of my involvement in a difficult struggle have drawn me closer to God. Whatever the cause, God has been profoundly real to me in recent months. In the midst of outer dangers I have felt an inner calm and known resources of strength that only God could give.[2]

You remember the days immediately after the flood here—how in the midst of outer danger and devastation we were able to find inner resources and strength. How, when we were weary, help came from others. Only slowly did we discover needed to be done. There were visits and meetings and phone calls and emails as we checked in on each other and started to chart a course for the months ahead.

This process is being repeated in Haiti. Church World Service is in contact with long-time partners there and in the Dominican Republic. We can give thanks for the report from UCC Global Ministries that mission personnel, Kim and Patrick Bentrott and their son are safe.

Over time a more complete assessment of the work needed will be done. Now we hear that the best we can do is pray, which we have done and will continue to do, and give money to agencies such as Church World Service that have a long established presence in Haiti. Our One Great Hour of Sharing offering that we receive during Lent each year means that money is available when it is needed quickly for emergencies such as this one.

After the flood God did not ask that we have patience while our lives were in turmoil. Nor does God ask us to be patient in the face of the misery that we see in our neighbors. The God who created us desires that our lives be abundantly full.

This is what led me back to that story of Jesus at the wedding in Cana. It is a story of abundance coming out of depravation.

And it begins with that curious confrontation between Mary and Jesus.

Mary, seeing a problem, comes to Jesus. “They have no wine,” she says. She is impatient. She wants something done.

Jesus replies that this is really none of her business—nor is it his business. He doesn’t really sound the way we think Jesus should sound, does he?

Still Mary says to the servants: “Do whatever Jesus tells you.” I don’t know what she had in mind at the time, but I hear Jesus telling us again: “Love one another.”

Years ago I heard what is now one of my favorite stories. I’ve probably told it to you once already—and will most likely repeat it again. It’s about a man who went into a diner and ordered a cup of coffee. This was during World War II, when, as some will still remember, various food items were being rationed. Sugar, being a somewhat precious commodity, was kept behind the counter. After getting his coffee, the man asked for some. The waitress poured a small amount into his cup and put the sugar jar away. A little dismayed, he asked for more. “Stir up what you've got, first,” came the reply.

Stir up what you've got first.

Jesus assesses the situation and looks for God’s abundance—which isn’t always obvious to most of us. There are six empty jars. There is water. And that will be enough. That will be more than enough.

What do we have? How can we stir it up so that it will be enough?

The novelist Reynolds Price says: “It seems unlikely that John would describe such a homely kitchen-wonder unless he had been present and convinced of its actual and inexplicable occurrence.”[3] From the start, however, people have tried to find another explanation.

The steward at the wedding is puzzled. He has no idea where the servants got this good wine. There must be a rational explanation, and so he calls for the bridegroom and praises him for his exceptional hospitality. That must be the reason.

But something greater is happening here.

Our conventional assumptions about what is possible, about where God is found, and about how God is known are shattered. This is an act of abundance and new possibilities.

So John’s gospel speaks of water turned into wine not as a miracle but as a sign. What is of real importance here is not the event but the reality to which the event points.

Perhaps we can think of this sign as a window, not an ornament.

You’ve probably seen those little colored glass “suncatchers” that hang in windows. Maybe you have one at home. They attract our attention. But we need to look through the window for the larger view.

We need to look, not at the miracle—for those who do will always need one more to be certain. We need to look to what is beyond—to this Jesus who is showing the abundance of God in a world of need.

Water turned into wine is a sign.

To what does it point?

What’s going on?

We get a hint from the prophet Amos in his attempt to describe the coming of the realm of God. “The mountains shall drip with sweet wine, and all the hills shall flow with it. I will restore the fortunes of my people Israel, and they shall rebuild the ruined cities and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and drink their wine.”

This is what God desires: Abundance. Restoration. Let’s let that sink into your weary soul for just a minute. Imagine the cities rebuilt. Imagine the hills and mountains flowing with all good things.

God’s will is that you would know abundance.

God’s will is that your ruined places would be rebuilt.

And that is not just God’s desire for you alone, but for all people.

This abundance of wine is accompanied by vision of the rebuilding of the ruined cities.

Listen to Martin Luther King again: “God is able to conquer the evils of history. If at times we despair because of the relatively slow progress being made . . . let us gain new heart in the fact that God is able. . . . With this faith we can transform bleak and desolate valleys into sunlit paths of joy.”

When Jesus shows up at the wedding in Cana, when water turns to wine, it is a sign that the sun is beginning to shine upon bleak and desolate valleys. The sunrise is slow, but it is certain.

Let us stir up what we’ve got—discovering the abundance we might often overlook or seek to deny. In doing this, we will realize that while we can’t do everything, we can do something. This congregation is blessed with an abundance of resources: skills, talent, energy, and, let’s be honest, wealth. What might we do with all that we have and all that we are to bring the healing and restoration that God desires?

A wedding is an occasion of hope and unknowing. A wedding brings with it the hope for the best that life might bring—and in the background are the unknown challenges and the unknown responses that a couple will face.

A wedding is an occasion of hope and unknowing. So, too, is the beginning of a new year. So, too, is each day of our lives. In the morning we know neither the challenges nor the opportunities that will come to us in the hours ahead. Even in uncertainty we live our days in hope—in the hope that we will be up to the challenges, that we will make good use of the opportunities, hoping for the best in life for ourselves, our neighbors, and all creation.

In that hope, let us work with God, doing what we can to rebuild.