“They have no wine.” --John 2:3
Six empty jars. 120-180 gallons of air. Disaster in the wind.
“They have no wine.” Mary said to her son, her face pleading for him to do something to save the wedding banquet and the honor of the host.
I feel like there are a lot of empty jars these days. Disasters in the wind. The government shut-down continues, and talks are going nowhere. Families are trying to figure out how to live without paychecks and the impact is being felt in many sectors of our common life. Churches continue to decline and can no longer sustain ministry, and yet are unwilling to even consider change. It’s depressing and frustrating. A few weeks ago, I was at a conference where we were discussing climate change and the bleak predictions for life in a much less stable ecosystem. There are still things we can do, if we had the will, to mitigate the damage… but not the damage has already been done. And that’s just three of the empty jars I see in the world around me. I have always been a “jar half-full” optimist, but it seems like every day that perspective gets harder to maintain.
Like Mary, my prayers these days often plead, “Lord, we have no wine!”
And then I remember the promise of the Prophet Isaiah,
On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples
a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines,
of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear.
And he will destroy on this mountain
the shroud that is cast over all peoples,
the sheet that is spread over all nations;
he will swallow up death forever.
Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces,
and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth,
for the Lord has spoken. (25:6-8).
It was a promise spoken at a particularly difficult, empty jar period in the life of God’s people.
And I remember another mount called Golgotha, where Jesus died at the hands of human brokenness, and violence. A bleak moment that scattered all of Jesus disciples except a few of the women, and seemed to crush all the hopes Jesus engendered in people. An empty jar moment if there ever was one!
But then, there was the empty tomb, that became the symbol of the fullness of life. An empty tomb that proved that God’s life is stronger than death, and that God’s love is more powerful than hate, and that there is nothing in all of creation -- in heaven or on earth -- that can separate us from that love.
Proof that God does not abandon God’s people. Ever. Proof that nothing in heaven or on earth can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus; that empty jars can be filled with water turned to wine.
As I look at the world around me, I admit, I don’t know how God’s going to do that, but I am confident that God can and will. I can’t always see it happening but, I get glimpses now and again in the little acts of kindness, small miracles of compassion and quiet words of undeserved forgiveness and mercy I witness and observe. And that’s enough to fill up my empty jars with the good stuff. That’s enough to me keep working to proclaim and live out the Good News of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection in my life. I don’t know where the future is going, but the vision of the Risen Christ is enough to make me certain that, wherever we are going, God will go there with us… just as God always has.
Peace,
Bishop Mike
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