(A sermon for the people of Christ Lutheran Church in Prattville, Alabama)
It’s
good to be back with you. Most of you
know that I spent the last 10 days in St. Paul, Minnesota, attending class at
Luther Seminary. It is supremely cold in
St. Paul. -12 with a “real feel” of -33 when I checked this morning. Brr!
I love
going to campus. Much of the time, I
attend coursework online, which is a blessing.
I wouldn’t be able to make school happen otherwise. But being present and in person for a couple
of weeks at a time feeds my relationships with classmates, fuels my
relationships with faculty and staff, and rejuvenates my faith. It’s the toughest, working hard-est “vacation”
ever. At school we attend lectures for
hours, read more than one would think humanly possible, and write more words
than I ever think I could possibly pull from my brain. We worship daily, attend informal lectures by
faculty during our “downtime” at venues off campus in events called “Pubs and
Profs”, and are exposed to a variety of opportunities for interacting with a
purpose, and we get up in the mornings and do it all over again. They don’t call them “intensives” for
nothing.
But normally,
the best, most life-giving time at school happens in the dorms after hours in a
time of holy recreation, when we can gather with our friends and classmates and
sing folk songs, or dye psyanky eggs, or play a card game, or enjoy a glass of
wine and the pleasure of one another’s conversation as we share our deepest
joys and lamentations. After all the
events of the day are past, we gather together, folks from different communities,
different economic backgrounds, different nations, and different races to dwell
in the best time of the whole day. We
save the best for last…and though it may look like nothing special is happening,
this is, arguably, the most important time of the whole seminary experience.
This
is the time when stories are shared, when we can talk with one another about our
prides and our pleasures and our successes, our hurts and our wounds and our shortcomings….about
the ways we’ve damaged ourselves or others.
In other words, it is a time of communion with our brothers and sisters
with whom we are bound through baptism into the body of Christ. A time when relationships are strengthened,
when lives are changed as we bear witness to the power of God to change
us. A time to welcome God into our midst
and to ask God to make something new of us.
To extend to us through the relationships in that place grace upon grace.
The gospel
lesson today takes us to the very first public act of Jesus’s ministry in the
Gospel according to St. John. Mary has
been invited to a wedding, another place of holy rejoicing and recreation…and since
Jesus and the disciples are in town, they are invited along, too. And it is here that Jesus performs his first
act as a public leader, some of the gospels would call this a “miracle”. But the gospel writer calls it a “sign”. This is significant, because John does
everything deliberately, with great purpose, and so to call these kinds of
incredible doings of Jesus “signs” rather than “miracles” means something. A miracle might suggest divinity and call
attention to the person of Jesus, but a sign points to something in particular. And so as we read or listen to this story, we
have to pay attention to what the sign is pointing as Jesus points away from
himself and toward something else.
As we
read through the gospels, we see more and more stories of Jesus doing something
really cool, more miracles and more signs, and in each other instance, the sign
seems to be for a purpose. But in the
wedding text, there seems to be no discernable purpose. We can wrap our heads around feeding the
hungry as in the loaves and fishes or showing a particular object lesson to a
doubting disciple…but here, what is the lesson?
What is the point? A lesson on
wine distribution? A lesson on grocery
shopping? Jesus as party planner? “Always buy more than you think you’ll need…don’t
want that party to end on a downer”
Nah. The overarching theme of John’s gospel is the
“dawning of a new age. To John, the
coming of Jesus as the Messiah has changed the world from what it used to be into
something totally new and different.”[1] And the overarching theme of this story is
the illustration of “grace upon grace” as Jesus saves this couple and their
families from certain social casting out (a serious deal in that time when livelihood
depended on the support of the family and of the neighbor). Jesus provides wine which will save them from
ostracizing by providing that which they need beyond “enough” into “abundance”.
What is our water that Jesus has come to turn
into wine? Where is God fully present in
abundance in ways we don’t deserve or understand? What system or old way of thinking is Jesus
changing from what it used to be into something totally different? Or is Jesus changing us from “enough” into “abundance”?
One the classes I took this intensive is called “Dismantling
Racism”. With seminary students,
faculty, 60’s era civil rights leaders, and elders in the Black Lives Matter
movement, in this course we learned from and with one another and were
confronted with not only the history of racial division in this country, but
also its continuity…as racism has changed over time to become less overt. Less individual prejudice (though, as any
person of color in this country will tell you, those prejudices still exist) and
more about systemic or structural racism.
The ways in which people of color are still oppressed in the country by
virtue of the color of their skin. The
ways in which white America still holds the power in this nation. The ways in which that death grip on power by
people who look an awful lot like me is actually still a death grip around the
necks of our Black and Brown brothers and sisters.
Blacks are still a significant racial minority in
this country, yet nearly 50% of the prison population is composed of Black
bodies.
Black and Brown actors are still not celebrated
(or even recognized much) in Hollywood.
The Oscar nominations are overwhelmingly white this year…even though the
Black film “Straight Outta Compton” has been nominated for Academy Awards, the
only nominees for that film are the white screenwriters.
If you are Black or Brown in the United States,
you are less likely to be granted a loan, a scholarship, or a rental agreement
for an apartment. You are less likely to
be given a job. You are more likely to
be killed by the police, the very folks who are supposed to “serve and protect”
you.
White supremacy, or the belief consciously or unconsciously,
that white folks are better, smarter, prettier, more polite, less brutal or
impulsive, shows up even in our art and our depictions of God. We know that Jesus was a person of color, and
yet our imagery of him in this country is overwhelmingly white. What does that say to a Black person? What does that say to a Brown person? Heck, what does that say to a white person? That God identifies with the racial
majority? That blue eyes are Godly? That in the eyes of our God my life is worth
more than my neighbor’s?
And we don’t have to look too far to visually see
the division. How many people of color
are present in this space? Why do you
think that is?
Not too long ago in this nation’s history, racial
division and white oppression were the law of the land. Nowhere did this play out more than here in
the South. We host the site(s) of over
4,000 lynchings[2] in this nation. The Montgomery Slave Market is just minutes from
where we are sitting. The site of the
first Confederate white house is just down the road. Even Prattville High School, here in town and
constructed in 1976, bears the name of George Wallace, governor of this state
who famously said, “In the name of
the greatest people that have ever trod this earth, I draw the line in the dust
and toss the gauntlet before the feet of tyranny, and I say segregation now,
segregation tomorrow, segregation forever”[3]. And what is more treacherous than his legacy
inscribed in stone is the fact that we do
not talk about it. Every kid who
walks through the front doors of that building is taught a lesson of acceptance
of the ways things were and the way things are by our lack of conversation
about all of this.
It is far easier and much more comfortable for us
white folks to say, “that was a long time ago,” than it is for us to relive our
national shame or for us to admit that we are still benefitting from a system
designed to lift us up and to push down those who don’t “look like us”.
But as Martin Luther King, Jr. would remind us,
“our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” I don’t know about you, but I want to
LIVE. And I believe with my whole heart
that God wants us, all of us, to live, too.
Hear the good news: God is a god of change and renewal and grace
upon grace.
By God’s mercy and grace we are able to change
ourselves, our language, and our systems.
We invited to become the wine and to point beyond ourselves to the
dawning of a new age. An age where all
people are equally valued and beloved not just by God but by all of society,
and I believe that we are called to public ministry, to work in this direction
until that day comes.
Soon, beloved, we will be hosting a conversation
on racism with the goal of working toward dismantling it in this place. I urge you to come. This will not be a time of shaming or a time
for wallowing in guilt for the way things were or even for the way things
are. This will be an opportunity to share
with one another and with those whom we encounter how a system of racism and
white supremacy has damaged all of us and what we can do about it. To share our hurts and sorrows and joys and
stories of redemption. To welcome
God to immerse Godself into our midst and to make something new of us. To extend to us through the relationships in
this place grace upon grace upon grace. This conversation will give us new ways to speak
with one another. And we will invite others in the community to join us here as
we do this work.
And we are not doing this all alone. On Thursday night, Bishop Eaton and others
hosted a “Confronting Racism” podcast in which we have all been invited to
engage the work of confronting and dismantling racism. Our national church body is being called to
work together for the sake of our Black and Brown brothers and sisters…and
thereby for our own sakes as well.
This Monday we celebrate the life and legacy of
Dr. King. And I can think of no better
way to honor him and the life he lived for Jesus and for his and our brothers
and sisters than by committing to continue the work he began just down the road
in Montgomery, Alabama. We have been
freed by a God of abundant grace and called to extend that grace and relationship
to our neighbors. We are called to walk
together and to cry out for justice for the whole world. And we do not do this alone. We walk together. And Jesus walks with us along this pilgrim
journey toward the dawn of a new day.
Transforming us from water into wine.
Amen.
