It was a warm
Saturday in April. Snow was gone, the
sun was shining; it was an only-wear-a-sweatshirt-outside kind of day. When I
was out of bed, I went looking for Tim.
I didn’t find him. All I found was a pile of stuff in the middle of the
floor in the work room. I texted Tim
wanting to know why everything from our mini-van was in the house in a big pile. Tim had taken the mini van out for its
post-winter deep clean. Well that is the story he told me.
An hour later,
I am called outside. Tim has arrived home, without the van; instead there is a
little lime green car (the one we currently have) in the driveway. My mind did
a lot of leaps and bounds; it took a few moments to understand …. SURPRISE….
this was our new car.
It was a
surprise. Although we had thoughts about
going car shopping, in a year maybe, we had not talked about getting a car that
day. We had not talked about details – which Tim had down to perfection- cloth
seats, standard transmission, bright colour, tiny, a Ford, with a bonus of
in-floor lighting.
This was one
of the biggest surprises of my life.
This surprise
pails in comparison to the surprises -the manifestations of God and God’s
kingdom – in the hands of Jesus.
The season of
Epiphany is about surprise. Life after
Christmas has returned to normal, we are back at work, in school; our schedules
are filled with things we have to do; we have returned to eating better and
working out at the gym. We have comfortably returned to our routines. We have gone into hibernation mode as the
temperatures have turned cold, and storms are brewing. In this lull of ordinary, Sunday readings
have provided with surprises; manifestations that tell us who Jesus is. We
heard of the star where the wisemen come to worship Jesus as king and as salvation
for all people. We heard of the heavens
opening and a voice saying, “You are my beloved, Son, in you I am well
pleased.” Today we are presented with the miraculous turning of water into
wine. These are fantastical stories, come to surprise us in the hum-drum of comfortable
routine, to warn us that -surprise- things have changed, things are about to
change. I read a commentary that
reminded readers that the readings of Epiphany are not the sort that “fit
comfortably into our common categories of timing, sensibility, or scale.”
Take Jesus’
miracle of turning water to wine. The scale of this miracle is surprising, 175
gallons of wine; is that even sensible? And the timing – good wine, better
wine, the best wine- provided once people are already happily toasted. Jesus
miracle is lavish, perhaps even obscene, abundance.
Taking a
closer look at Jesus’ miracle of turning water to wine, there are important surprises
that have been submerged by the amount of wine.
In the story an
element of surprise is the fact that there was not enough wine. In this
culture, at this time, there was an expectation not only on the hosts part to
offer hospitality, but, an expected reciprocation of hospitality by the guests.
The guests were to come with food and wine to share. It appears that there was
a failure on the guest’s part to support their host and a reluctance to
celebrate the couple getting married. Despite
the failure of reciprocal hospitality or poor planning on the hosts part,
everyone is surprised by the exuberant generosity at the hands of Jesus.
Surprise also
comes through in the story, when one pays attention to who has the knowledge of
what took place. It is the servant and the
waiters, who bear witness to the miracle.
They are the ones filling ewers with water and pouring out fine wine. It is the servants with inside information, -
bears of Good News- not the bride or groom or important guests. The surprise happens, surprisingly, in the
back room, behind the scenes. And it is here that Jesus reveals his glory, and
the disciples believe.
Common
categories of timing, sensibility, and scale are also blown apart in the
reading from the prophet Isaiah. All
fired up by the prophet’s words, the people of Israel are excited as they
return to Jerusalem from Babylon. Upon arriving they are surprised by a land
that doesn’t resemble the prophet’s words; the prophet foretold of a glorious land
redeemed and flourishing, a land beloved by God, created, full of delight. It
is an inopportune time to return for they see, fields trampled by armies, devastated
landscapes, houses and buildings in piles of rubble; the land is still Forsaken
and Desolate. The people are dismayed, disappointed, tired, and squabble
amongst themselves. They are surprised by the sensibility of God to return them
to a precarious place for people to be – home without homes; to wait once again
for this “new thing” God is about to do.
In the final chapters of Isaiah, as the people lament what was, lament
current the situation, the prophet assumes God will listen if he doesn’t give
up proclaiming hope and restoration to the people, believing that the
gap between
expectation and reality will shrink; and that God will surprise the people with
relationship so intimate creation will blush.
I just
finished a novel called “Tortilla Curtain,”
by T.C. Boyle. The story happens on the
edge of the California wilderness, and follows two men from two totally
different walks of life. As one reads, one realizes how intertwined the lives
of human beings are, and how it is that our lifestyles and choices affect our
relationships.
One man is
Mexican. He has come North with a young pregnant wife, pushed out of his subsistence
on the edge of a garbage dump, he comes seeking work and the dream of a better
life. The other man is a naturalist and a writer on wilderness issues. Because
of his wife he lives in a gated community. A wall has recently been put up, to
keep the coyotes out, the poisonous snakes out, and of course to keep hordes of
Mexicans out.
The book
surprised me.
Perhaps it was
a prophet calling God’s words to me as I meandered through the story.
I was
surprised by the abundance of emotions I experienced and the complexity of
pondering that remains in my mind and heart.
The story
surprised me because it is not so fictious.
One need only consider the animosity along the border of Mexico and the
US; and the discussion, fear, and logistical problems created by asylum seekers
walking across the US/Canada border.
The book
surprised me in its presentation of the story. The California wilderness is described
as a hostile environment for squatters, who live in fear of deportation by border
patrol officers, fear of their scruffy camps being discovered or taken over by
others, fear of raging fires or too much rain. Each day is an exercise in
finding work, food, water, and hiding what resources have been collected. The
desire is to collect enough cash to find a run-down apartment to set up a new
life. It seems a daunting and hopeless task.
It gets
complicated as Californians use the Mexican work force to get jobs done
efficiently for little money, so they are needed, but, if found in public
places after work, they are be deported. From day to day the will of the public changes,
sometimes allowing migrants to congregate at work crew posts, where bosses can
find workers. At other times work posts are not allowed, and migrants turn to
stealing resources from each other, beating each other so they can have the few
jobs that there are.
In the same
wilderness live the liberal do-gooders, who think themselves not racist, as
they drop a $5 bill into the hands of a Mexican, or hire lawn care companies employing
illegals, or a construction company who has migrants building the very walls meant
to keep them out. Those in the gated
community contend that the wall is for the protection of family, and for survival;
they don’t really want walls-yet it gets justified after dogs are taken by
coyotes, people are threaten by outsiders, items go missing, and graffiti appears
on the wall.
All the people
in the story get angrier with each other; the stress of the unknown plays on
marriage relationships, making matters worse in the wider community. Each step a
person takes for survival or protection seems to be mis-interpreted by the
other who is also trying to survive. Rage and hate escalate. The entire situation seems desolate, forsaken,
and hopeless.
In the end, at
a time of natural chaos – a fire, heavy rains, and a mudslide,-- along with
human action and emotion gone wild, the main characters are wrapped up in a matter
of life and death outside their control.
The story ends with a hand extended offering life.
Common good
trumps circumstances and the chaos of human emotion.
The surprise
is that life was offered, without second thought, despite injustice,
complexity, and hate.
The extended
hand was a miracle; a lavish abundance of water turned into wine.
When I sit
with the complexities that human beings create, -- gates, walls, war,
injustice, hate- I kind of feel like I’m in the shoes of the Israelites
returning to a land that appears desolate and forsaken; yet, the prophet keeps
proclaiming abundance and joy. I get
stuck wallowing in ordinary life like the guests going to the wedding in Cana,
disheartened I decide not to share food and wine; I show up empty handed.
And to my
surprise …empty handed I am given a glass of wine by the servant. It is good wine. In this moment I am surprised! Surprised by a
generosity I don’t deserve. This is the beginning of God doing a new thing.
“O God, you are Wine: warm our hearts and
make us one.” Amen.
