Wedding day
Commentary
Object:
The bride was obviously nervous. She could hardly get through the wedding rehearsal. So the gentle priest took her aside and walked her through the motions that would be celebrated the next day. They started together in the broad foyer that led to the worship auditorium.
"When your dad brings you here tomorrow," the priest said, "look only at that aisle. It is familiar to you. You and your family have walked down it so often, coming to worship week by week. Don't think of anything else. Just focus on the aisle."
"Then, when you get to the front of the sanctuary," the priest went on, "turn your attention to the altar. Imagine yourself going to the altar for the Eucharist. You can do that with your eyes shut, because you've done it so often. Just keep your thoughts on the altar."
"By that time," said the priest, "you will see him, the dear love of your life. Forget the crowd. Forget the music. Forget everything else. Just look at him! See his smile! Think of how much he cares about you and wants the best for you. Look at him!"
"If you do these things," the kind priest encouraged, "you should not have any problems getting through the wedding tomorrow."
The priest was right. At the marriage ceremony, the bride appeared to have gotten over her nerves and showed herself to be cool, calm, and collected. But some who stood next to the aisle, as she walked in triumphantly to the royal march of the organ, were a bit taken aback by the words she kept muttering: "I'll [aisle] alter [altar] him! I'll alter him!"
Whatever else, marriage does alter us! And that is a key theme in today's lectionary readings. Isaiah passes along a prophetic word that declares a new and coming marriage between God and his people. Paul shows how becoming one with Christ and each other in the marriage of faith has implications for our self-understanding and mutual interdependence. When Jesus shares in the catering of a wedding for distant relatives, those who go to the reception get a "magic" lesson they never expected. All in all, it is a great day for weddings, especially because we are all "altered" by them!
Isaiah 62:1-5
Every Christmas I receive a card from a family in Wisconsin. It always includes a picture of the parents as they grow through the stages of life, and the children who multiplied quickly years ago and now shoot up through height markers and current fashion trends.
When I first met the husband and wife, long time past, they were a young couple in love. Both emerged from homes across Lake Michigan and loved the water. Boating was the passion that initially brought them together. Sailing the great lake, they had often been lured by the lighthouse at our shore and came to our town to party and picnic.
So when they got engaged, it seemed natural that they would get married in the shadow of the lighthouse on the shore they had claimed as a vacation playground in a town that was almost a second home. That is why they came to my church office, asking me to officiate. And so I did, on a glorious summer day.
Now the yearly photo updates remind me of the great word of God brought to us today by Isaiah. A shining dawn and a blazing (lighthouse?) torch (Isaiah 62:1) announce public glory and a new name (v. 2) that is celebrated with a crown of honor (v. 3) and transports a newly married couple (v. 5) from honeymoon to new homeland (v. 4). Isaiah is prophetically celebrating a future age when Israel will again claim its re-virginized giddiness in a restoration of its covenantal marriage with bridegroom Yahweh. The tragedies and tyrannies of the awful days when northern Israel dissolved under the acidic bath of Assyrian conquest (722 BC) and the same nearly happened to little Judah in the south (Isaiah 36-38), all because of the people's wandering spiritual eyes -- will be a forgotten blur. Yahweh will dress in his best suit, and Israel in white will wear the crowning veil of purity and love. Together they will march down the aisle under heaven's bright lights and angelic applause, and their honeymoon home in Beulah land will truly be a slice of paradise.
Of course, the grand finale to Isaiah's prophetic symphony never did happen in quite this way. Judah forgot the lesson of Israel's demise and became homeless under Babylonian forced displacement. A remnant returned, years later, to the rock pile of fallen Jerusalem, but these barely limped from one recession to the next socio-political crisis. And the little temple raised in memory of past glory was hardly a shack in comparison to Solomon's great edifice. The marriage was never really re-consummated.
Until Jesus came along. Now, as Jesus and Paul and John have noted in various ways, the courtship is back on. We live in the heady days of anticipation for the wedding at the lighthouse to come.
1 Corinthians 12:1-11
Paul's stay in Corinth is quickly told in Acts 18:1-17. He began his missionary sojourn there, as usual, with a time of teaching about Jesus to the Jews in the local synagogue. Paul was eventually forced out by vigorous opponents who refused to acknowledge that Jesus could have been the promised messiah. Although Paul was no longer permitted to speak in the synagogue, the leader of the synagogue became a believer, as did a good number of its members. From a new location in the house adjacent to the synagogue, and also from his workspace in the Corinthian market as a tentmaker, Paul broadened his preaching dialogues with people until a thriving congregation was formed of both Jewish and Gentile converts.
Encouraged by a vision that affirmed divine blessing on his ministry there (Acts 18:9-11), Paul stayed in Corinth at least a year and a half (virtually all of 50 AD and well along into 51 AD). Then he decided to make a report back at his sending church in Syrian Antioch and took his new friends Priscilla and Aquila along (Acts 18:18). Stopping briefly in Ephesus, across the Aegean Sea, Paul felt a strong pull to engage in a similar church-planting effort there. But he was already committed to his travel plans, so he left Priscilla and Aquila in Ephesus and vowed to return soon (Acts 18:19-21).
It was probably a couple of months later when Paul came back overland through Asia Minor and set up shop in Ephesus (Acts 19:1). Priscilla and Aquila had already established a solid core of converts and new leaders. Among their number was Apollos, a keen and well-schooled Jew from Alexandria who was able quickly to understand how Jesus could be the Jewish messiah (Acts 18:24-28).
Paul stayed on in Ephesus for more than two years (Acts 19:8-10), carrying out a number of regional mission journeys, and growing a significant Christian presence in the city itself. It was during this time that members from his former congregation in Corinth began a series of contacts that would eventually cause Paul to write two of his most passionate and profound letters of Christian instruction. We know them today as 1 and 2 Corinthians.
Probably sometime in late 51 AD or early 52 AD, Paul sent a letter of strongly worded reproof to the Corinthian congregation. No copies have survived, but from what Paul himself says about it in 1 Corinthians 5:9, it is easy to see why some might take exception to it. Indeed, it appears that a number of people in the congregation began to disown Paul's authority after reading that letter and promote factionalism in the community, based upon personal preferences about which leaders each would claim as having greater sway among them. Meanwhile, a delegation of three men (Stephanus, Fortunatus, and Achaicus), who were highly respectful of Paul's apostolic authority, traveled from Corinth to Ephesus, bringing to Paul an oral report about the difficulties going on in the church. They also carried a written list of questions that members of the congregation were raising.
Paul quickly wrote a letter of response. Although this was actually his second letter to the Corinthian congregation, it survives as 1 Corinthians in the New Testament. Immediately in the opening passages, Paul addresses the difficulties some have at his continued influence in the congregation. He chastises the members for dividing up into parties and waving a banner acclaiming the worthiness of a different leader. These groupings were sinful and disruptive, according to Paul, for they denied the honor that ought to be given only to the true head of the church, Jesus Christ. They also played favorites among human leaders who each have a particular set of gifts for helping the church as a whole to grow. By chapter 4, Paul was ready to give an apology for his own apostolic authority, pleading with the Corinthians to receive his teachings as God's own initiatives toward them.
In chapters 5 and 6 Paul painfully rehearsed some of the examples of immorality within the congregation that must have been the focus of his earlier letter. Several social sins, including blatantly inappropriate sexual relations and lawsuits between Christians, are marched out onto the platform in descriptions that must have left little doubt as to who Paul was talking about. The reflections about sexual behaviors may have reminded Paul of the queries on the list brought by the three men and to these he turns next. There were apparently eight questions raised:
• About marriage, singleness, and divorce (7:1-24).
• About the conduct of virgins (7:25-40).
• About meat dedicated to idols (and apostolic authority) (8:1--11:1).
• About worship practices, especially the Lord's Supper (11:2-33).
• About spiritual gifts (12--14).
• About Jesus' resurrection and ours (15).
• About the collection for the poor in Jerusalem (16:1-11).
• About Apollos (16:12).
In Paul's response to questions about worship practices (11:2-33) is contained a reflection on two social value systems. First, with regard to differing roles for women and men in society, Paul wants to ensure that the genders are not blurred. There is a creational distinction between females and males, according to Paul, and this must not be erased, even by the freedoms found in Christ. At the same time, this gender distinction ought not to undermine the broad equality by which the gifts of the Spirit are distributed. Both women and men can and should prophesy. Spiritual leadership in the church is not limited by gender.
Second, in a review of the church's celebration of "the Lord's Supper," as it was becoming known, another facet of social interaction was addressed. The "differences" within the Corinthian congregation were not only of the kind where parties became loyal to different leaders (1 Corinthians 1-3), but also the manifestation of divergent socio-economic groupings present in contemporary society. The reason that some who attended these Lord's Supper gatherings "go ahead without waiting for anybody else" and others "remain hungry" was because of the divergent lifestyle practices of the rich and the poor among them. The wealthy were able to come and go as they pleased, including showing up to worship services, potluck dinners, and Lord's Supper celebrations right at the start. The poor and the slaves, however (some likely coming from the same households), were often late to arrive because they had to fulfill their domestic work obligations first. Paul declared that "recognizing the body of the Lord" was necessary if the Lord's Supper was to be celebrated properly. This did not mean having the capacity to understand an appropriate theological theory of the atonement or some other such cognitive ability. Instead, it amounted to remembering that all who belong to Jesus are welcome at his table, and none have more rights than others. If they were indeed the Body of Christ, they must live and act accordingly.
This reflection on the expression of the Body of Christ at the communion meal may have significantly shaped Paul's next reflections. When answering the Corinthians' question about spiritual gifts (1 Corinthians 12-14), Paul further develops the body of Christ metaphor marvelously, making it the analogy by which the identification and expression of unique gifts were to happen. Moreover, the beautiful hymn about love at the center of this discussion (1 Corinthians 13), although often abstracted as a wedding text or used in other isolated ways, is actually the glue that holds together all of Paul's testimony concerning spiritual gifts. It is only when these are used out of love, and expressed through love, that the true community of faith is formed and nurtured.
But Body Life begins with individual sensitivities. We need to be aware of our own uniqueness in order to participate fully in the complex whole. We must assess our God-given talents so that we might connect appropriately with the web of social fabric that engulfs and encompasses us. If we try to isolate ourselves we die, like hair that pulls away with the comb, or nails that get clipped and discarded. On the other hand, if we try to assert our dominance over others (like those in Paul's day who took unholy pride in their ability to "speak in tongues"), we become cancerous and destroy the Body of Christ with our deadly disease.
Being married to Christ is not an individualistic matter. It is the wonder of Body Life in which we only become ourselves when we become part of the whole.
John 2:1-11
Mine is a family of book lovers. Early on, my wife and I encouraged our daughters to read and bought them books we thought they'd enjoy. It was no surprise to us that in their younger years the girls often chose books by the look of the covers. But as they grew to love the quality of the stories they read, the appearance of a book became less important. Now they understand that "you can't judge a book by its cover."
English is full of proverbs like that -- still waters run deep, beauty is only skin deep, looks can be deceiving, good things come in small packages. We learn quickly to distrust appearances, because too often they don't tell the whole story.
Still, it's nice when the cover of a book is of the same wonderful quality as that of the story inside. I have some leather-bound, gold-embossed books that I appreciate as much for their intelligent construction as for their inspiring character. So it is with today's gospel reading. John's memories of Jesus' first days of public ministry show a man called and destined to be nothing less than the incarnate Son of God who helps others find their identity and destiny as well.
The gospel of John is unlike any other biblical or extra-biblical writing. Since it has most literary kinship with the Synoptic gospels, in that it rehearses elements from the life and teachings of Jesus, it forms part of the "gospel quartet" of the New Testament. But even a quick read will show significant differences from these other uniquely Christian writings.
First, it has a global philosophic introduction which places the story of Jesus in a comprehensive cosmological frame of reference. Second, it is often more cryptic in its conversational narratives than are the other gospels, making it harder to understand how or why some of these dialogues could have taken place. Third, while it acknowledges that Jesus did many miracles, it reports only seven of these during his public ministry, and elevates the significance of these few by attaching to them deeper and more complex secondary meanings. Fourth, there are extended monologues by Jesus scattered throughout the pages of John's gospel, which are both mystical and doctrinal, and have no clear parallel to the manner of Jesus' teachings or conversations as recorded by the Synoptics. In short, the fourth gospel is a wild ride in a theme park of its own.
Yet it is also so homey and comfortable that elements of it are like old slacks and shirts worn easily. The Greek language, through which the text is communicated, is basic and simple, so that even beginner students can quickly read it. Many of its teachings from the lips of Jesus have become the inextricable metaphors and motifs by which we know him and ourselves -- the Good Shepherd, the Light of the World, the Resurrection and the Life, the Vine, and so on. Some of the conversations Jesus has with others are recorded in a manner that makes us feel as if we were the only ones they were penned for, and we are always sitting next to Jesus again when we read them. Even our Christian theology and worldview has been so shaped over the centuries by themes from this document that we cannot separate it from us or imagine Christianity apart from these 21 chapters. The gospel according to John is a key element of biblical faith.
Although its literary development is markedly different from that of the Synoptic gospels, there is a very clear pattern to John's rehearsal of thought and portrayal of Jesus' activities and teachings in this gospel. A significant transition in referential time takes place between chapters 12 and 13. This change is further accentuated by the grouping of all of Jesus' "miraculous signs," as John calls them, into the first twelve chapters. For these reasons the first part of John's gospel is often called the "Book of Signs," while the last part wears well the name the "Book of Glory." A highly significant prologue opens the gospel (1:1-18), and an epilogue, perhaps written by another party and added after the initial gospel was completed (ch. 21), brings it to a close.
The curious strength of that powerfully creative literary skeleton can be found in our gospel reading today. Notice that the prologue summary is completed in the first fourteen verses, followed by John's brief authorial nod in 1:15-18. Then a quick series of vignettes that proceed by marked "days." The work of John the Baptist is highlighted in the first "day" (1:19-28), the public identification of Jesus is the point of the second "day" (1:29-34), the welcoming home of the first disciples marks the third "day" (1:35-43), and the beginning of the mission shared by Jesus and his followers is the focus of the fourth "day" (1:44-51). John's chronology then places Jesus' first "miraculous sign" (turning water into wine at the marriage feast in Cana) three days later (2:1), thus declaring that it takes place on the "Sabbath" of these initial seven days, and thus the celebration of God's good pleasure in the creation.
In other words, the close calendar watching that marks John's initial scenes is very important. Like the days of creation in Genesis (to which John makes a very clear connection as the gospel opens), divine light shines in the darkness on day 1 (John the Baptist's testimony as he hovers above the waters of the Jordan), the firmaments are distinguished in day 2 (Jesus is from above, we are from below), a home is made for use on day 3 (like the earth of humans above in the creation listing), and the bearer of light begins to warm the world to life on the fourth day.
So today's scripture reading needs to be read in tandem with Genesis 1, a fitting exercise at the beginning of this year. The point John is making as he opens the story of Jesus is that in a world compromised and darkened by sin, the light of eternity begins to shine again, and we who were created for life begin to stir again with divine glory. Jesus, of course, is the firstfruits at the head of the new humanity, but we are invited along in the transformation, becoming once again what we were meant to be.
Application
When Professor Tony Brouwer at Calvin College was diagnosed with terminal cancer, he and his family invited a camera crew to share the journey of his final year. Among the tragic and tender times recorded is a scene near the end, when Tony is bedridden with tubes in his nose and skin sunken on his bones. His wife sits next to his bed and recalls the last time he spoke at the college chapel service. He told the students that if possible he would like to live his life over, she said. Then her tears got the best of her and she could not go on.
So Tony, with his weakened whisper, finished the tale. "I said I would like to live my life over, if I could," he said haltingly. "But not because there were so many things that I regretted and wished to do differently. No, I would like to live my life over again because I enjoyed it all so much, and would like to do it again!"
Tony looked at his wife and daughters and everyone knew what he meant. He wanted to enjoy his wonderful marriage again and again and again. Isaiah and Paul and Jesus would agree. If you marry right, especially spiritually, the wedding to God never gets old.
An Alternative Application
John 2:1-11. The focused scope and grand vision of John's gospel may remind us of Victor Hugo's greatest novel. He called his masterpiece, Les Miserables, a religious work. So it is. The story echoes the gospel message at nearly every turn.
The main character, Jean Valjean, has been beaten hard by the cruel twists of fate. He has seen the sham of hypocrisy on all sides. So he casts the name of the Lord to the ground like a curse. What does God know of him, and what does it matter?
Imprisoned for stealing bread to feed his family and resentenced by the vindictive will of his jailer, Jean Valjean finally manages to escape. On his first night of freedom he stays with a bishop, who treats him well. But behind Jean Valjean's thankful mask is the cunning face of a thief, for the bishop has many valuables.
In the early morning hours, Jean Valjean steals away with some silver plates. And when his suspicious appearance brings him under arrest, he is forced to face the bishop again, charged with new crimes.
Then the miracle of grace occurs. For in Jean Valjean's eyes the bishop sees something that begs forgiveness and hopes for mercy. Instead of taking revenge, the bishop declares that the silver dishes were a gift to Jean Valjean. In fact, he says Jean Valjean forgot to take the two silver candlesticks he had also given him.
In an instant, the bishop declares Jean Valjean innocent and gives him back his life. But with this gift of forgiveness, he commissions Jean Valjean to bring Christ to others. The rest of Jean Valjean's life becomes a testimony of one who is made new in the grace of divine love. He becomes what he was meant to be.
Not only that, but Jean Valjean spends the rest of his life helping his young charge, Cosette, find love and a good marriage. The redeemed becomes the redeemer. The one who has seen the light becomes the light of life for others.
While the parallels can only be drawn so far, there are powerful images that get repeated when trying to figure out the deep meanings of life. John, in telling us this story about Jesus, does more than send up a tabloid headline: "Local Boy Turns Water Into Wine!" He helps us see the broad sweep of human history in which all our best efforts at marriages and families and societies and civilization come undone at the seams because of our weak and wicked ways. Only when someone from outside the system names our disease and offers a vaccine against the ravages of original sin will we realize just how deeply we have been stuck in the well of our despair.
Charles Darwin, for instance, grew up in a Christian home, yet later in life he rejected Christianity's hold on him. How did this loss of faith happen? Here's the explanation from his autobiography: "I gradually came to disbelieve in Christianity.... Disbelief crept over me at a very slow rate, but at last it was complete. The rate was so slow that I felt no distress."
Darwin's words could have fallen from the pages of many diaries. His experience is the same as many in the church who lose their faith. They lose it because they don't use it and because they never do anything with it. Because they have become less than they truly are.
That first miraculous sign of Jesus at the wedding of a distant relative in Cana that he helped his mother cater was a billboard on humanity's journey to even darker places. "Turn here!" it cried. "Light is in that direction! Follow the young man, Mary's son, because if you do the celebration will return to the party!"
Do you believe it? Or has your complacency with the dull drabness of life in the shadows made you think, with Charles Darwin, that "ho" and "hum" are the only real words that matter?
Wake up! Get excited! Drink the wine! And become again what you were meant to be!
"When your dad brings you here tomorrow," the priest said, "look only at that aisle. It is familiar to you. You and your family have walked down it so often, coming to worship week by week. Don't think of anything else. Just focus on the aisle."
"Then, when you get to the front of the sanctuary," the priest went on, "turn your attention to the altar. Imagine yourself going to the altar for the Eucharist. You can do that with your eyes shut, because you've done it so often. Just keep your thoughts on the altar."
"By that time," said the priest, "you will see him, the dear love of your life. Forget the crowd. Forget the music. Forget everything else. Just look at him! See his smile! Think of how much he cares about you and wants the best for you. Look at him!"
"If you do these things," the kind priest encouraged, "you should not have any problems getting through the wedding tomorrow."
The priest was right. At the marriage ceremony, the bride appeared to have gotten over her nerves and showed herself to be cool, calm, and collected. But some who stood next to the aisle, as she walked in triumphantly to the royal march of the organ, were a bit taken aback by the words she kept muttering: "I'll [aisle] alter [altar] him! I'll alter him!"
Whatever else, marriage does alter us! And that is a key theme in today's lectionary readings. Isaiah passes along a prophetic word that declares a new and coming marriage between God and his people. Paul shows how becoming one with Christ and each other in the marriage of faith has implications for our self-understanding and mutual interdependence. When Jesus shares in the catering of a wedding for distant relatives, those who go to the reception get a "magic" lesson they never expected. All in all, it is a great day for weddings, especially because we are all "altered" by them!
Isaiah 62:1-5
Every Christmas I receive a card from a family in Wisconsin. It always includes a picture of the parents as they grow through the stages of life, and the children who multiplied quickly years ago and now shoot up through height markers and current fashion trends.
When I first met the husband and wife, long time past, they were a young couple in love. Both emerged from homes across Lake Michigan and loved the water. Boating was the passion that initially brought them together. Sailing the great lake, they had often been lured by the lighthouse at our shore and came to our town to party and picnic.
So when they got engaged, it seemed natural that they would get married in the shadow of the lighthouse on the shore they had claimed as a vacation playground in a town that was almost a second home. That is why they came to my church office, asking me to officiate. And so I did, on a glorious summer day.
Now the yearly photo updates remind me of the great word of God brought to us today by Isaiah. A shining dawn and a blazing (lighthouse?) torch (Isaiah 62:1) announce public glory and a new name (v. 2) that is celebrated with a crown of honor (v. 3) and transports a newly married couple (v. 5) from honeymoon to new homeland (v. 4). Isaiah is prophetically celebrating a future age when Israel will again claim its re-virginized giddiness in a restoration of its covenantal marriage with bridegroom Yahweh. The tragedies and tyrannies of the awful days when northern Israel dissolved under the acidic bath of Assyrian conquest (722 BC) and the same nearly happened to little Judah in the south (Isaiah 36-38), all because of the people's wandering spiritual eyes -- will be a forgotten blur. Yahweh will dress in his best suit, and Israel in white will wear the crowning veil of purity and love. Together they will march down the aisle under heaven's bright lights and angelic applause, and their honeymoon home in Beulah land will truly be a slice of paradise.
Of course, the grand finale to Isaiah's prophetic symphony never did happen in quite this way. Judah forgot the lesson of Israel's demise and became homeless under Babylonian forced displacement. A remnant returned, years later, to the rock pile of fallen Jerusalem, but these barely limped from one recession to the next socio-political crisis. And the little temple raised in memory of past glory was hardly a shack in comparison to Solomon's great edifice. The marriage was never really re-consummated.
Until Jesus came along. Now, as Jesus and Paul and John have noted in various ways, the courtship is back on. We live in the heady days of anticipation for the wedding at the lighthouse to come.
1 Corinthians 12:1-11
Paul's stay in Corinth is quickly told in Acts 18:1-17. He began his missionary sojourn there, as usual, with a time of teaching about Jesus to the Jews in the local synagogue. Paul was eventually forced out by vigorous opponents who refused to acknowledge that Jesus could have been the promised messiah. Although Paul was no longer permitted to speak in the synagogue, the leader of the synagogue became a believer, as did a good number of its members. From a new location in the house adjacent to the synagogue, and also from his workspace in the Corinthian market as a tentmaker, Paul broadened his preaching dialogues with people until a thriving congregation was formed of both Jewish and Gentile converts.
Encouraged by a vision that affirmed divine blessing on his ministry there (Acts 18:9-11), Paul stayed in Corinth at least a year and a half (virtually all of 50 AD and well along into 51 AD). Then he decided to make a report back at his sending church in Syrian Antioch and took his new friends Priscilla and Aquila along (Acts 18:18). Stopping briefly in Ephesus, across the Aegean Sea, Paul felt a strong pull to engage in a similar church-planting effort there. But he was already committed to his travel plans, so he left Priscilla and Aquila in Ephesus and vowed to return soon (Acts 18:19-21).
It was probably a couple of months later when Paul came back overland through Asia Minor and set up shop in Ephesus (Acts 19:1). Priscilla and Aquila had already established a solid core of converts and new leaders. Among their number was Apollos, a keen and well-schooled Jew from Alexandria who was able quickly to understand how Jesus could be the Jewish messiah (Acts 18:24-28).
Paul stayed on in Ephesus for more than two years (Acts 19:8-10), carrying out a number of regional mission journeys, and growing a significant Christian presence in the city itself. It was during this time that members from his former congregation in Corinth began a series of contacts that would eventually cause Paul to write two of his most passionate and profound letters of Christian instruction. We know them today as 1 and 2 Corinthians.
Probably sometime in late 51 AD or early 52 AD, Paul sent a letter of strongly worded reproof to the Corinthian congregation. No copies have survived, but from what Paul himself says about it in 1 Corinthians 5:9, it is easy to see why some might take exception to it. Indeed, it appears that a number of people in the congregation began to disown Paul's authority after reading that letter and promote factionalism in the community, based upon personal preferences about which leaders each would claim as having greater sway among them. Meanwhile, a delegation of three men (Stephanus, Fortunatus, and Achaicus), who were highly respectful of Paul's apostolic authority, traveled from Corinth to Ephesus, bringing to Paul an oral report about the difficulties going on in the church. They also carried a written list of questions that members of the congregation were raising.
Paul quickly wrote a letter of response. Although this was actually his second letter to the Corinthian congregation, it survives as 1 Corinthians in the New Testament. Immediately in the opening passages, Paul addresses the difficulties some have at his continued influence in the congregation. He chastises the members for dividing up into parties and waving a banner acclaiming the worthiness of a different leader. These groupings were sinful and disruptive, according to Paul, for they denied the honor that ought to be given only to the true head of the church, Jesus Christ. They also played favorites among human leaders who each have a particular set of gifts for helping the church as a whole to grow. By chapter 4, Paul was ready to give an apology for his own apostolic authority, pleading with the Corinthians to receive his teachings as God's own initiatives toward them.
In chapters 5 and 6 Paul painfully rehearsed some of the examples of immorality within the congregation that must have been the focus of his earlier letter. Several social sins, including blatantly inappropriate sexual relations and lawsuits between Christians, are marched out onto the platform in descriptions that must have left little doubt as to who Paul was talking about. The reflections about sexual behaviors may have reminded Paul of the queries on the list brought by the three men and to these he turns next. There were apparently eight questions raised:
• About marriage, singleness, and divorce (7:1-24).
• About the conduct of virgins (7:25-40).
• About meat dedicated to idols (and apostolic authority) (8:1--11:1).
• About worship practices, especially the Lord's Supper (11:2-33).
• About spiritual gifts (12--14).
• About Jesus' resurrection and ours (15).
• About the collection for the poor in Jerusalem (16:1-11).
• About Apollos (16:12).
In Paul's response to questions about worship practices (11:2-33) is contained a reflection on two social value systems. First, with regard to differing roles for women and men in society, Paul wants to ensure that the genders are not blurred. There is a creational distinction between females and males, according to Paul, and this must not be erased, even by the freedoms found in Christ. At the same time, this gender distinction ought not to undermine the broad equality by which the gifts of the Spirit are distributed. Both women and men can and should prophesy. Spiritual leadership in the church is not limited by gender.
Second, in a review of the church's celebration of "the Lord's Supper," as it was becoming known, another facet of social interaction was addressed. The "differences" within the Corinthian congregation were not only of the kind where parties became loyal to different leaders (1 Corinthians 1-3), but also the manifestation of divergent socio-economic groupings present in contemporary society. The reason that some who attended these Lord's Supper gatherings "go ahead without waiting for anybody else" and others "remain hungry" was because of the divergent lifestyle practices of the rich and the poor among them. The wealthy were able to come and go as they pleased, including showing up to worship services, potluck dinners, and Lord's Supper celebrations right at the start. The poor and the slaves, however (some likely coming from the same households), were often late to arrive because they had to fulfill their domestic work obligations first. Paul declared that "recognizing the body of the Lord" was necessary if the Lord's Supper was to be celebrated properly. This did not mean having the capacity to understand an appropriate theological theory of the atonement or some other such cognitive ability. Instead, it amounted to remembering that all who belong to Jesus are welcome at his table, and none have more rights than others. If they were indeed the Body of Christ, they must live and act accordingly.
This reflection on the expression of the Body of Christ at the communion meal may have significantly shaped Paul's next reflections. When answering the Corinthians' question about spiritual gifts (1 Corinthians 12-14), Paul further develops the body of Christ metaphor marvelously, making it the analogy by which the identification and expression of unique gifts were to happen. Moreover, the beautiful hymn about love at the center of this discussion (1 Corinthians 13), although often abstracted as a wedding text or used in other isolated ways, is actually the glue that holds together all of Paul's testimony concerning spiritual gifts. It is only when these are used out of love, and expressed through love, that the true community of faith is formed and nurtured.
But Body Life begins with individual sensitivities. We need to be aware of our own uniqueness in order to participate fully in the complex whole. We must assess our God-given talents so that we might connect appropriately with the web of social fabric that engulfs and encompasses us. If we try to isolate ourselves we die, like hair that pulls away with the comb, or nails that get clipped and discarded. On the other hand, if we try to assert our dominance over others (like those in Paul's day who took unholy pride in their ability to "speak in tongues"), we become cancerous and destroy the Body of Christ with our deadly disease.
Being married to Christ is not an individualistic matter. It is the wonder of Body Life in which we only become ourselves when we become part of the whole.
John 2:1-11
Mine is a family of book lovers. Early on, my wife and I encouraged our daughters to read and bought them books we thought they'd enjoy. It was no surprise to us that in their younger years the girls often chose books by the look of the covers. But as they grew to love the quality of the stories they read, the appearance of a book became less important. Now they understand that "you can't judge a book by its cover."
English is full of proverbs like that -- still waters run deep, beauty is only skin deep, looks can be deceiving, good things come in small packages. We learn quickly to distrust appearances, because too often they don't tell the whole story.
Still, it's nice when the cover of a book is of the same wonderful quality as that of the story inside. I have some leather-bound, gold-embossed books that I appreciate as much for their intelligent construction as for their inspiring character. So it is with today's gospel reading. John's memories of Jesus' first days of public ministry show a man called and destined to be nothing less than the incarnate Son of God who helps others find their identity and destiny as well.
The gospel of John is unlike any other biblical or extra-biblical writing. Since it has most literary kinship with the Synoptic gospels, in that it rehearses elements from the life and teachings of Jesus, it forms part of the "gospel quartet" of the New Testament. But even a quick read will show significant differences from these other uniquely Christian writings.
First, it has a global philosophic introduction which places the story of Jesus in a comprehensive cosmological frame of reference. Second, it is often more cryptic in its conversational narratives than are the other gospels, making it harder to understand how or why some of these dialogues could have taken place. Third, while it acknowledges that Jesus did many miracles, it reports only seven of these during his public ministry, and elevates the significance of these few by attaching to them deeper and more complex secondary meanings. Fourth, there are extended monologues by Jesus scattered throughout the pages of John's gospel, which are both mystical and doctrinal, and have no clear parallel to the manner of Jesus' teachings or conversations as recorded by the Synoptics. In short, the fourth gospel is a wild ride in a theme park of its own.
Yet it is also so homey and comfortable that elements of it are like old slacks and shirts worn easily. The Greek language, through which the text is communicated, is basic and simple, so that even beginner students can quickly read it. Many of its teachings from the lips of Jesus have become the inextricable metaphors and motifs by which we know him and ourselves -- the Good Shepherd, the Light of the World, the Resurrection and the Life, the Vine, and so on. Some of the conversations Jesus has with others are recorded in a manner that makes us feel as if we were the only ones they were penned for, and we are always sitting next to Jesus again when we read them. Even our Christian theology and worldview has been so shaped over the centuries by themes from this document that we cannot separate it from us or imagine Christianity apart from these 21 chapters. The gospel according to John is a key element of biblical faith.
Although its literary development is markedly different from that of the Synoptic gospels, there is a very clear pattern to John's rehearsal of thought and portrayal of Jesus' activities and teachings in this gospel. A significant transition in referential time takes place between chapters 12 and 13. This change is further accentuated by the grouping of all of Jesus' "miraculous signs," as John calls them, into the first twelve chapters. For these reasons the first part of John's gospel is often called the "Book of Signs," while the last part wears well the name the "Book of Glory." A highly significant prologue opens the gospel (1:1-18), and an epilogue, perhaps written by another party and added after the initial gospel was completed (ch. 21), brings it to a close.
The curious strength of that powerfully creative literary skeleton can be found in our gospel reading today. Notice that the prologue summary is completed in the first fourteen verses, followed by John's brief authorial nod in 1:15-18. Then a quick series of vignettes that proceed by marked "days." The work of John the Baptist is highlighted in the first "day" (1:19-28), the public identification of Jesus is the point of the second "day" (1:29-34), the welcoming home of the first disciples marks the third "day" (1:35-43), and the beginning of the mission shared by Jesus and his followers is the focus of the fourth "day" (1:44-51). John's chronology then places Jesus' first "miraculous sign" (turning water into wine at the marriage feast in Cana) three days later (2:1), thus declaring that it takes place on the "Sabbath" of these initial seven days, and thus the celebration of God's good pleasure in the creation.
In other words, the close calendar watching that marks John's initial scenes is very important. Like the days of creation in Genesis (to which John makes a very clear connection as the gospel opens), divine light shines in the darkness on day 1 (John the Baptist's testimony as he hovers above the waters of the Jordan), the firmaments are distinguished in day 2 (Jesus is from above, we are from below), a home is made for use on day 3 (like the earth of humans above in the creation listing), and the bearer of light begins to warm the world to life on the fourth day.
So today's scripture reading needs to be read in tandem with Genesis 1, a fitting exercise at the beginning of this year. The point John is making as he opens the story of Jesus is that in a world compromised and darkened by sin, the light of eternity begins to shine again, and we who were created for life begin to stir again with divine glory. Jesus, of course, is the firstfruits at the head of the new humanity, but we are invited along in the transformation, becoming once again what we were meant to be.
Application
When Professor Tony Brouwer at Calvin College was diagnosed with terminal cancer, he and his family invited a camera crew to share the journey of his final year. Among the tragic and tender times recorded is a scene near the end, when Tony is bedridden with tubes in his nose and skin sunken on his bones. His wife sits next to his bed and recalls the last time he spoke at the college chapel service. He told the students that if possible he would like to live his life over, she said. Then her tears got the best of her and she could not go on.
So Tony, with his weakened whisper, finished the tale. "I said I would like to live my life over, if I could," he said haltingly. "But not because there were so many things that I regretted and wished to do differently. No, I would like to live my life over again because I enjoyed it all so much, and would like to do it again!"
Tony looked at his wife and daughters and everyone knew what he meant. He wanted to enjoy his wonderful marriage again and again and again. Isaiah and Paul and Jesus would agree. If you marry right, especially spiritually, the wedding to God never gets old.
An Alternative Application
John 2:1-11. The focused scope and grand vision of John's gospel may remind us of Victor Hugo's greatest novel. He called his masterpiece, Les Miserables, a religious work. So it is. The story echoes the gospel message at nearly every turn.
The main character, Jean Valjean, has been beaten hard by the cruel twists of fate. He has seen the sham of hypocrisy on all sides. So he casts the name of the Lord to the ground like a curse. What does God know of him, and what does it matter?
Imprisoned for stealing bread to feed his family and resentenced by the vindictive will of his jailer, Jean Valjean finally manages to escape. On his first night of freedom he stays with a bishop, who treats him well. But behind Jean Valjean's thankful mask is the cunning face of a thief, for the bishop has many valuables.
In the early morning hours, Jean Valjean steals away with some silver plates. And when his suspicious appearance brings him under arrest, he is forced to face the bishop again, charged with new crimes.
Then the miracle of grace occurs. For in Jean Valjean's eyes the bishop sees something that begs forgiveness and hopes for mercy. Instead of taking revenge, the bishop declares that the silver dishes were a gift to Jean Valjean. In fact, he says Jean Valjean forgot to take the two silver candlesticks he had also given him.
In an instant, the bishop declares Jean Valjean innocent and gives him back his life. But with this gift of forgiveness, he commissions Jean Valjean to bring Christ to others. The rest of Jean Valjean's life becomes a testimony of one who is made new in the grace of divine love. He becomes what he was meant to be.
Not only that, but Jean Valjean spends the rest of his life helping his young charge, Cosette, find love and a good marriage. The redeemed becomes the redeemer. The one who has seen the light becomes the light of life for others.
While the parallels can only be drawn so far, there are powerful images that get repeated when trying to figure out the deep meanings of life. John, in telling us this story about Jesus, does more than send up a tabloid headline: "Local Boy Turns Water Into Wine!" He helps us see the broad sweep of human history in which all our best efforts at marriages and families and societies and civilization come undone at the seams because of our weak and wicked ways. Only when someone from outside the system names our disease and offers a vaccine against the ravages of original sin will we realize just how deeply we have been stuck in the well of our despair.
Charles Darwin, for instance, grew up in a Christian home, yet later in life he rejected Christianity's hold on him. How did this loss of faith happen? Here's the explanation from his autobiography: "I gradually came to disbelieve in Christianity.... Disbelief crept over me at a very slow rate, but at last it was complete. The rate was so slow that I felt no distress."
Darwin's words could have fallen from the pages of many diaries. His experience is the same as many in the church who lose their faith. They lose it because they don't use it and because they never do anything with it. Because they have become less than they truly are.
That first miraculous sign of Jesus at the wedding of a distant relative in Cana that he helped his mother cater was a billboard on humanity's journey to even darker places. "Turn here!" it cried. "Light is in that direction! Follow the young man, Mary's son, because if you do the celebration will return to the party!"
Do you believe it? Or has your complacency with the dull drabness of life in the shadows made you think, with Charles Darwin, that "ho" and "hum" are the only real words that matter?
Wake up! Get excited! Drink the wine! And become again what you were meant to be!
