Monday of the first week in Lent

Psalm 41 •  Deuteronomy 8:11-18 • Hebrews 2:11-18 • John 2:1-12

The Gospel reading from John 2:1-12 today is the story of a wedding miracle, mediated by a mother’s trust and a son’s response.

 In John’s telling, Jesus finds himself at this wedding during several busy days at the beginning of his ministry.  A few days earlier John the Baptist has testified that Jesus is the Lamb of God, and the next day when John repeats this assertion two of John’s own disciples begin to follow Jesus; one of them, Andrew, brings his brother Simon Peter along. The day after that Jesus invites Philip and Nathanael to follow him too. 

Now Jesus finds himself and these first disciples at a wedding in Cana, a town not far from Jesus’ home in Nazareth. His mother is also there, and she notices something amiss—the wine is running out. She tells her son. Jesus’ reply sounds somewhat testy. “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” One can sympathize with Jesus. Things have been moving awfully fast recently. He may want some time to regroup.

But Mary knows her son, and Jesus does not disappoint. His response is crazily generous—six stone jars, “each holding 20 to 30 gallons” of water, are changed to wine. That’s 120 to 180 gallons of wine!  And it’s great wine too, as attested by the steward who, not knowing where this wine came, from tells the bridegroom “you have saved the best wine until now.” Jesus’ disciples were impressed, and they “believed in him.”

After this, John tells us, Jesus “went down to Capernaum with his mother, his brothers, and his disciples; and they remained there a few days.” I like to think they took some extra wine with them.

— Karen Mawyer

First Sunday in Lent

Psalm 63 • Deuteronomy 8: 1-10 • 1 Corinthians 1:17-31 • Mark 2:18-22

1 Corinthians 1: 17-31

. . . For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength. . .  . But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.

Jesus brought about what is arguably the greatest subversion in human history. He set God’s message of love and kindness up against the natural law of survival of the fittest. From the time we began acting differently from the other primates until about 2100 years ago, it was quite clear who was right, and who was wrong; who was wise, and who was foolish; who was strong, and who was weak. In only 2000 years, the paradigm has shifted, and the old standard no longer applies.

It is easy to look around and think that the world has not changed, that violence and oppression still win the day. But the fact that we are even outraged is a sign that violence and oppression of our neighbor are no longer acceptable. The newspapers only make money by publishing what is exceptional; between the lines is the message that most of us are not like that, and do not want to be like that.

Even where no one has heard of the Gospel, its message of love, forgiveness, and raising up our neighbor pierces through the misery like a beacon. The message may not have been carried by missionaries. It may have come through the newspapers, or returning travelers telling of wondrous cities where a law rules that seeks equity and justice for all. It may have come in the form of UNICEF workers or the Blue Berets—the United Nations itself is an expression of humankind’s desire to cling to the new paradigm, independent of religion.

Thanks be to God, who makes all things new.

— Jonathan Hine

Saturday following Ash Wednesday

Psalm 30   •   Deuteronomy 7:17-26   •   Titus 3:1-15   •   John 1:43-51          

“Do not be terrified by them for the Lord your God who is among you is a great and awesome God.” (Deuteronomy 7:21)

      In today’s world there is much to be terrified by. War and the horrific acts of terrorism; the kidnapping and murder of innocent journalists and aid workers; violence in our streets directly involving those who are meant to serve and protect; death and despair along our borders; sexual violence and death among our bright young college students, and more. How do we handle the intensity of all of this? What future does this leave for our children and grandchildren?

         Yet in the scriptures we find hope and the beginning of an answer.

        The psalmist sings God’s praises for being “lifted out of the depths.” In the readings we are assured that God is among us and that our enemies will be destroyed. We are told that we are saved through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit and we are called to do good; to be peaceable and gentle toward one another.

          It is challenging and difficult to not give in to our fears, to be peaceable and gentle, to have hope.

          Jesus finds Philip and says “follow me” and Philip does. Philip finds Nathanel and says “come and see.” If we, like Philip and Nathanel, can “come and see.” follow Jesus, and have faith then in spite of all that there is to be terrified about, we will see great things and hope shall remain alive and well in our world.

Terrified                                              Sitting with fear

Nowhere to turn                                 Waiting for God

No coming out of                                Letting go—God is among us

Despair and pain                                  Opening ourselves to faith

Where is our God?                               Following Jesus

The God of our youth                         Washed in the Holy Spirit

With a belief in goodness?                   A belief in Hope.

—Anne Cressin

Friday following Ash Wednesday

Psalm 31   •   Deuteronomy 7:12-16   •   Titus 2:1-15   •    John 1:35-42      

           

As a child I was familiar with Saint Andrew, largely because the hymn “Jesus Calls Us,” was a great favorite of my grandmother who led Sunday afternoon hymn sings with us grandchildren. The hymn refers to the familiar account in Matthew and Mark where Jesus comes upon Andrew and Peter, fishermen, casting their net and bids them “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” As the hymn puts it: “As of old, Saint Andrew heard it, by the Galilean lake, turned from home and toil and kindred, leaving all for his dear sake.” As a child I accepted this but found it eccentric, unrelated to my own daily life. As an adult I am glad to revisit Andrew and try to imagine his experience.

Today’s passage in John’s Gospel gives quite a different account, telling us that Andrew was a disciple of John the Baptist and was standing with John who “as he watched Jesus walk by . . . exclaimed, ‘Look, here is the Lamb of God!’” This was John’s second proclamation of Jesus as God’s Lamb. Andrew and another of the Baptist’s disciples took off and followed Jesus then and there. When Jesus turned and asked them, “What are you looking for?” they answered, “Rabbi (Teacher), where are you staying?” Jesus respon-ded, “Come and see” and Andrew and the other disciple went to see.

Andrew went first to find his brother, Simon, and brought him along to meet Jesus. This sharing of experience appeals to me as a grownup. When I’ve heard a stirring sermon or have been moved strongly by some event, I want to share it with a friend. The few references we have to Andrew show him bringing people to Jesus—it was Andrew who was aware of the small boy who had “five barley loaves and two fish” (John 6:9) when Jesus on the mountain  asked, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” And it was Andrew whom Philip (his fellow Galilean) sought to go with him to Jesus to announce that “some Greeks” had come saying, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Andrew is not necessarily the up-front leader, but he connects people. I admire this.

— Jane W. Rotch 

Thursday following Ash Wednesday

Psalm 37:1-18   •   Deuteronomy 7:6-11   •   Titus 1:1-16   •   John 1: 29-34

Each Gospel tries to address the basic problem of Christianity —how to understand the confusing notion that Jesus was both human and divine. In Matthew and Luke, we are told that Jesus was both human and divine because God magically got Mary pregnant. John’s Gospel contains no such miracle birth story. It addresses the problem metaphorically, offering different ways to perceive the divine to help us humans, through Jesus, to experience all that God is and all that God means.

            I’m a left-brained person, and when I read the Gospel of John, my left brain rebels. Left-brained people like provable facts and syllogistic logic. We want stories to obey the laws of physics. When I read about the wedding feast at Cana, where John says that Jesus changed water into fine wine, I want to say, “Nope. You can’t go—SHAZAAM!!—from water to ethyl alcohol without investing a lot of heat and energy. Couldn’t happen. The heat would destroy the flavor notes. . . .” To which my right brain screams, “RELAX already!”  My left-brained approach risks missing the beauty of John’s metaphors, because understanding metaphors is fundamentally a right-brained activity.               

“In the beginning was the Word.”

            “In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.” 

            “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the                             world!” 

            “I am the bread of life.” 

            “I am the gate for the sheep. . . . the good shepherd.” 

            “I am the way and the truth and the life.” 

            “I am the true vine.” 

 John offers us a smorgasbord. If “in the beginning was the Word” speaks to you, or if thinking of Jesus as “ the true vine” or “the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” resonates with you, you now have a way to think about your connection to the divine.  Hopefully you’ll find one that helps you. 

            Religious faith, like relaxation and processing metaphors, is a right-brained activity. Left-brained me, I still have work to do. Which is such a left-brain thing to say. . . .                                  

 — Lloyd Snook