Sermon for the 21st of January - Third Sunday after Epiphany

Lectionary Readings for the Third Sunday of Epiphany

Revelation 19: 6–10
Then I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the sound of many waters and like the sound of mighty thunder-peals, crying out, ‘Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns. Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his bride has made herself ready; to her it has been granted to be clothed with fine linen, bright and pure’— for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints. And the angel said to me, ‘Write this: Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.’ And he said to me, ‘These are true words of God.’ Then I fell down at his feet to worship him, but he said to me, ‘You must not do that! I am a fellow-servant with you and your comrades who hold the testimony of Jesus. Worship God! For the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy.’

John 2: 1-11
On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, ‘They have no wine.’ And Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.’ His mother said to the servants, ‘Do whatever he tells you.’ Now standing there were six stone water-jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, ‘Fill the jars with water.’ And they filled them up to the brim. He said to them, ‘Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward.’ So they took it. When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, ‘Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now.’ Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.

Sermon for the Third Sunday of Epiphany

I got the last ticket, Friday evening, to a concert in the Queen Elizabeth Hall. It was a programme of the music of two women, largely overshadowed. Fanny Mendelssohn was the older sister of Felix; Clara Schumann was the wife of Robert. Their lives as composers were subordinated to their roles as wives; they were conscious, also, of the disapproval of women composers by the society of their time. Fanny Mendelssohn, a prodigy equal to her brother Felix, composed notable works before her early death at the age of 41, in 1847. She knew Clara Schumann, also a child prodigy, one of the most brilliant pianists of the nineteenth century. Clara composed a substantial body of work despite having ten pregnancies while supporting a husband whose increasing mental illness ended only with his early death, in 1856. Clara was not allowed to visit Robert during the two years he was in a mental institution--she saw him only two days before he died. He was 46. Felix Mendelssohn died less than six months after his beloved sister, aged only 38.

Friday's performance was conducted by Natalia Ponomarchuk, chief conductor of the Kyiv Chamber Orchestra, part of the National Philharmonic of Ukraine. The piano soloist was the distinguished Alexander Melnikov, a Russian. At the end of the concert, Natalia was presented with no fewer than seven bouquets of flowers by various audience members who kept coming up to hand them to her; the applause in the auditorium lasted a long time. The effect of that evening's moving performance was a great, grand celebration of hope for the nation of Ukraine.

Another cause for celebration, as an aside, is the increasing number of opportunities for female conductors to conduct. It is over against the astonishing statistic that in 2013 only one out of the world's top 100 conductors was female, and that even as of 2022, there were still only twelve female conductors of the world's major orchestras....

Such a performance as Friday's won't go out of my head because, in spite of the tragic circumstances from which that music sprang---even more, the tragedy of what we will never hear of Fanny Mendelssohn's and Clara Schumann's own music---what they gave to us remains. And it is a celebration.

The wedding at Cana was a celebration. Jesus's defining act at the wedding was a celebration. It was an affirmation of the joyful union that marriage is---it was an affirmation of life itself.

Jesus was always celebrating. We can't imagine his life without all the celebrations! And so the Christian life---our life---has to be all about celebration, even in the midst of the darkness that seems to be all around us.

I think that people have the wrong idea about the nature of the Christian life.

They think it is about the thou shalt nots---about disapproval, holding back, the judging of others for their shortcomings or mistakes.

But if you take a good look at the calendar of the Christian year, it is all about the celebrations. We began with Advent, the joyful anticipation and preparation for Christmas. Then we celebrated the feast of Christmas. Then the feast of the arrival of the Wise Men (they are still here!), who followed the light of the star and manifested that light to all the world. The Epiphany. We celebrate Candlemas next Sunday. Lent is a season of careful, thoughtful preparation for the great feast of Easter Day, the celebration of Resurrection, but punctuated by each of its Sundays---not for fasting--- little Resurrection days. And then we have the glorious Ascension, and Pentecost, the birthday celebration of the Church, and the celebration of the Trinity, and the celebration of All the Saints after the long, green season of time when we celebrate the healings and the teachings of Jesus's ministry on earth.

It is not to say that there is no place for discipline within the Christian life, for vicarious sacrifice, for profound sympathy for the plight of those who suffer. These, also, are part of the Christian's life.

But the point I'd like to dwell upon this morning is that Christians are called to celebrate, even in the midst of what seems to be unending darkness and disaster--- how will the terrible war in Ukraine end, as we imagine the fighting in this bitter winter's cold? How will the citizens of Gaza reclaim their lives? How will the warlords of South Sudan resolve the ten-year conflict there, that has caused the deaths of at least 400,000 people?

I believe that the act of celebration is, itself, a sign of hope.

When we gather here to celebrate the eucharist we celebrate the presence of Jesus the Christ among us, light in the darkness, the in-breaking of the kingdom of God. We affirm, as we recite the Creed, that God's glory has already come in the person of Jesus, and that the Holy Spirit is everywhere present. We pray that God's mercy and God's grace will cover the disasters that human beings inflict on one another and on our precious earth. As we go out from this church we witness to the truth of God's ultimate goodness over against the evil that is so visible in the world around us.

When Christians celebrate, we radiate that hope that shines out in the darkness.

John included the story of the wedding at Cana as the first of Jesus's signs---a revelation of his glory---the Messiah sent by God to redeem the earth.

Water into wine; water for ritual purification replaced by the abundant wine that was always understood as a feature of the final days, in Jewish tradition. The barrenness of the religious institutions in Jesus's day replaced by the life-giving figure of Jesus Himself. Those who believe, beginning with the first disciples, drawn into the glory of the Kingdom inaugurated in the person of Jesus who taught them how to celebrate.

Especially in the midst of the darkest times, I believe that we are meant to celebrate.

In our Christian worship
and in our Christian service,
in humility and thanksgiving,
we celebrate the love of God
that has come down to earth.
We celebrate life itself.

And we join in all celebrations that affirm the goodness of the gift of life, over against the darkness of despair.

Friday night's programme included one work by Robert Schumann and ended with one work by Felix Mendelssohn: his great "Scottish" Symphony. The final phrase of that symphony is one of the most joyful that I know---it won't go out of my head! It can only be described as a clarion call to celebration.

Here it is, lasting a few moments long (from 7.30-10.00):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x8BImhH1y9E

May all our celebrations be a sign to the world of the in-breaking of God's kingdom, and may they show forth the Glory of God in Christ! Amen.