January 18, 1998
Psalm 36:5-10
John 2:1-11

Jesus' ministry begins with a party. He attends a wedding at Cana. We do not know the host or the two people getting married, but we know it might be a "family affair," for Jesus' mother is at the wedding. She is the one who notices that the wine has run out and tells her son. In those days well as these, I suppose, they regarded anyone who ran out of wine as a social failure. It was shameful to run out of wine, especially at a wedding; and it could cause a family pain and humiliation in the community.

Like the good mother she is, Mary assumes Jesus can do something to rescue the situation. Jesus has an odd response to her, which we can easily assume is the narrator's voice, reminding us that Jesus is more than the son of Mary, no less than the child of God. Mary does not react harshly to Jesus when he rebukes her; instead, she shows confidence that he will do something to save the situation and instructs the servants to do whatever he asks.

Through the wedding steward's conversation with the bridegroom, we hear that Jesus has replaced the water with the finest of fine wines. It is even better than the choice wine they had served before. The steward has no idea the wine is a gift of Jesus'. The extravagant goodness of the gift is a mystery to him. The good wine is a symbol of the inbreaking of a new age-a new world order, a new way of living together in community, a new way to reveal the great gift of the mystery of love in the midst of the party. This is an epiphany, the revelation of God's presence in the person of Jesus.

On this third Sunday in Epiphany, this story of the newly baptized Jesus performing "the first of many signs" is a testament to the manifestation of the glory of God. In this story is placed the seed of the great vision of God for humanity-the new community; the descent from heaven of the New Jerusalem; the wedding of the Lamb; the making whole of that which is broken; the new unity which becomes ours as a birthright from God in Christ.

Simply stated, Christianity is about the healing of brokenness through the founding of a new community, creating the Beloved Community, and becoming a unity.

Out of the cosmic forces of soul and body, out of the feisty love that works and weaves between Jesus and his mother, a miracle takes place: water, that simple, natural substance, is changed into fine wine. The waiter in charge tastes the change, the transformation of one substance to a whole new essence; the ordinary becomes extraordinary through the work of the Christ.

This is the first wine of the new covenant, a sweet taste, the first glimpse into "new community," the coming of the new age to which Jesus was completely committed.

This weekend, we celebrate the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr. It is also the anniversary of the death of Rabbi Abraham Heschel, one of the finest theologians and thinkers of the post-war era. Both men embraced the idea of new community in their lifetimes. Martin Luther King struggled valiantly for justice and freedom for African Americans, and Heschel spent his entire life attempting to give hope and insight to an entire generation of Jews who had lost all sense of faith through the devastation of the Holocaust. These two men represent the total giving over of life to the upbuilding of the community through attempting to heal the divisions in the community.

Martin Luther King's vision was one of the Beloved Community. He challenged this nation to go beyond our limited sight, to work toward the day when the Beloved Community was not merely a concept for heaven, but a reality on earth. In this vision of community, Dr. King said, "Our loyalties must transcend our race, our tribe, our class, and our nation." His vision for community was where love and justice prevail and rule over people and societies. When he spoke of love, he was quick to remind us that it was not sentimental love he was speaking about, but that force which all the great religions have seen as the supreme unifying principle of life. King goes on to say that "love is the key that unlocks the door which leads to the new reality."

Love is not primarily or predominantly a Christian concept. This is a Hindu-Moslem-Christian-Jewish-Buddhist belief about ultimate reality. It can, however, be beautifully summed up in the First Letter of John:

Let us love one another; for love is of God: and everyone that love is born of God and knows God. The one that loves not, does not know God; for God is love . . . if we love one another, God dwells in us, and God's love comes to perfection in us.

In the Beloved Community, we know that what binds us together is the power of universal love. In this community, King suggests, "we would know that we are tied together in a single garment of destiny, caught in an inescapable network of mutuality."

Today, it is cause for some sorrow and shame that the day of the Beloved Community has not yet come. The communities we live in are divided by violence, mistrust, and isolation. Greed and narrow self-interest have become the ultimate values, as materialism, consumerism, and hoarding create a wider and wider gap between the rich and the poor, the haves and the have-nots.

It comes as no surprise that our nation is embracing the death penalty again as a way to solve our problems with crime and punishment. We have fallen out of love with ourselves. It's no longer our goal to live with each other in compassionate and caring communities; rather, we have moved toward an eye-for-an-eye kind of society. "You killed someone I loved, now I want you killed so I can feel better, so I can believe my loved one did not die in vain." I wept for the victims who died in the Oklahoma City bombing and for those who loved them. But I have to ask, will killing Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols bring back to life those who are dead? Will the deaths of McVeigh and Nichols ease the pain of those still living? Or will it supply them with vengeance and retribution? These are not the roots from which a loving, compassionate society will blossom.

Martin Luther King was a non-violent revolutionary for the Gospel of Love. He believed that the only way for society to come to grips with itself was to shift from being a culture of materialism and greed to a society based on concern and compassion for its members. It was and is an awesome task. It is a task and a disciplined way of life to which the church is called.

Today, we will vote on our church budget for 1998. What a place to begin! Within our budget lie our commitment to community, our vision for the Church of Jesus Christ in this time and place, our desire to be present in the world as agents of reconciliation and peace. We have committed ourselves to over a half million dollars this year. It sounds like a lot, and it is; but our pledges are also a reflection of our hope and belief in the creation of the Beloved Community. If we are pledging our lives and our resources to this vision, no amount given is too outrageous; for surely this vision of wholeness is worth our lives and livelihood.

King spoke frequently of the radical "inner spiritual transformation" that would give us strength to fight injustice and lead us to the new age of personal and social transformation. The power we know in our lives, which moves us from a life based on scarcity and fear to a life grounded in generosity and love, is the power so present in the story of the wedding at Cana. For this story embodies the nature of God through whom all things, even the vision of the Beloved Community come to earth, are possible.

The power at the wedding at Cana was the power of love in action. The abundance of the flowing, fine wine is the fullness of wisdom and grace which Christ offers his followers in the Beloved Community. On this wedding day, we read of the new feast at a new table which was set for us and all humanity. Every loving act which we engage in-whether it be voting on the budget or refusing to move to the back of the bus because that time has come-every loving act furthers the dream of a time when all people shall be one in the Spirit, one in God, and freedom shall reign in the Beloved Community.

Susanne Vanderlugt, a minister in the United Church of Canada, tells this story of love in action on a lonely Sunday afternoon at a hospital in Toronto.

She was a patient in the hospital and was not up to eating. The woman in the bed beside her was not up for it either. They lay in their separate beds, hoping time would pass and the loneliness and pain they felt would pass also. Susanne writes that a sense of hopelessness had settled over the room like a thick fog.

The roommate's husband made a surprise visit. He was a truck driver who had been on a weekend run and was not expected back until the next day. He talked softly and gently with his sick wife and prayed with her. As he left the room, he stopped by Susanne's bed and asked if there was anything she needed. She said no. But he must have known it was not true. He took a washcloth and rinsed it in warm water and washed her exhausted, tear-streaked face.

The ordinary becomes extraordinary; the water becomes the wine of exquisite healing; love can bind together all people in the Beloved Community. The simplest acts of love and caring are the starting place for the birth of new community.

On the third day, Jesus attended a party, a wedding in Cana; and he changed the water into wine and called us into new community. And on the third day, Jesus broke the tremendous bonds of death and appeared to Mary Magdalene, changing her weeping into tears of joy.

Let this be the story of this congregation in the coming year. May we wipe the tears from the faces of those whose hearts have been broken by the injustice and greed of the world. May the water of our living be changed into the great wine of life flowing so freely from the love of God in Christ. May we see, touch, and minister to each other in this Beloved Community, so that the reign of Christ may come, and God's will be done, on this earth as in heaven. Amen.