January 14, 2007
The Second Sunday after Epiphany (Year C)
Isaiah 62:1-5; Psalm 36:5-10; Corinthians 12:1-11;
John 2:1-11
This morning the gospel lesson is my favorite story about Mary. It is my "Marian Theology" if you will. It's probably nothing like the Marian theology nuns teach in parochial school, but it is one that holds out far more hope for me as a woman and as a person of deep faith.
In the gospel of John we meet Mary, here, at the wedding in
What we have, by John's way of thinking, is a mature woman, mother of Jesus, her oldest, mother also of others. She is not lithe and lovely and young, rather her face is lined. There are bags under her eyes, body parts are sagging and padded, her feet are calloused and her hands covered with liver spots.
Yet, in my mind's eye, she is still a beauty as women of the middle east are in middle age, hair touched with gray stripes, eyes bright and dark, more insightful, more seeing, than a virgin's innocent, bright-eyed naiveté. She is a woman of unstoppable energy, but occasionally weighed down with the realities of life, capable of stopping to sigh, to remember, then to continue on with hope. She is a woman who has lived long enough to see things, to know things. She is a crone, a woman whose age has brought insight and pragmatic realism to her world view.
And did I mention faith? Mary is a woman of deep faith, a woman whose faith has grown into and around her like a vine becomes one with the tree around which it stretches and tangles and becomes indistinguishable from the tree! Mary has know heartache, at the very least the death of her husband, her partner and friend; she has weathered storms, fears, and joys. She has lived and so she knows through all that living, that God is the only constant. She, no doubt, has been angry with God, had weeks, perhaps, even months and years, performing the rituals of faith even in her doubt, sadness, or fear. Doing so sustained her when times were so tough, but eventually the faith seeped back into her soul as the rituals took on new meaning and form. Mary's faith, as presented in John's gospel, is not innocent. It is full, alive, reasoned, and seasoned.
It is this faith of John's Mary that I want to emulate. Her faith speaks to me, affirms me, offers me hope.
So on that day when the relatives were all gathered for the wedding in
Now one other thing about Mary is that she was the mother of a grown man, presumably not her only child, possibly, but does it really matter? She was a mother. And speaking as a mother I can tell you that it is not unusual for us to know our own children better than they know themselves! We always see their full potential; indeed, we see them living into the full potential long before they do. We imagine them there, believe in them there, know with a deep inner knowing that resembles faith, who they are and what they are capable of.
It is a knowing that is birthed when they are helpless infants, when the knowing is potential and hope. And sometime during the course of their life and ours with them, it grows into a deep knowing, a seeing, an epiphany (to usurp the name of the season!)
I have long said one of the things I love most about my two in-law children, the man that married my daughter and the woman that married my son, is that they, too, see my children in their full potential and encourage them to be themselves, to grow into themselves. They are both wonderful people in their own right and I love them, but I love them even more because they allow my children to be themselves so fully.
So on that day in Cana Mary, with all her wisdom and grace and faith and, hey, maybe her mother's intuition alone, went to her son and said, "Jesus, they are out of wine." She knew he could solve it; she just knew it. It wasn't a debatable possibility. She knew.
And Jesus, as children of all ages are wont to do, was a bit fussy back at her, "So what's it to me woman? I am not ready yet to do all the grand things you say I will do." (I wonder if "na-na, na-na, na-na" ran through his head?)
Then Mary somewhat exasperatedly speaks to the servants and tells them to "do as he says." She could do this because she knew her son. She knew despite his lip and his cockiness in front of his friends; she knew his heart and she knew his ability. She knew.
And the rest, as they say, is history. She was right. She knew.
The best wine was served last. And that wine is our wine. It is served to us each week at this Altar. It is the wine of hope and fullness and life.
So I invite you this week to think of Mary, your images of her, ones perhaps from your childhood or brought into this community from other traditions and other viewpoints. Then weave those images and stories together with the picture of middle-aged Mary from John's gospel that we have explored this morning – all the images and stories together are needed to have a whole picture of her and her faithfulness.
And then I invite you to reflect on your own spiritual journey: when were you/are you like a virginal Mary accepting whatever the Lord hands you? I say when "are you /were you" because all of us are at many places at once on our spiritual journeys. And conversely, when are you like the mature Mary knowing and trusting because your life has taught you and provided wisdom and deep inward knowing and trusting.
When can you/have you felt that vine of faith growing around you and through you?
It is exciting and rewarding to explore how God has worked and how God continues to work in our lives. So this week I invite you to use Mary as an icon and explore your own faith journey through the lens of hers.
May you have a beautiful week filled with self-awareness and God's presence.
Amen.
The Rev. Dr. Gale Davis Morris
Church of the Good Shepherd