The Second Sunday after The Epiphany
The Very Rev. Steve Lipscomb, Dean
Grace Cathedral
1/17/10

Isaiah 62:1-5; John 2:1-11

When I was very young--even as an adult--until I became an Episcopalian, the word "epiphany" meant nothing to me. It wasn’t in my vocabulary.  However, if I saw a cartoon character with a light over its head, I knew instantly what it meant.  The cartoon character had an idea—or something had suddenly become very clear—an "epiphany."

Now, I'm not striving to set off any light bulbs this morning, but I do want to explore with you some instances where God has been loud around you:  loud and noticeable, loud with love for you, loud as a bright light.

In today's lesson from Hebrew Scripture, Isaiah is heard telling Israel that God will not keep silent or still.  (God has been upset with Israel; he hasn't been on speaking terms with them for some time, -but because of his love for them he can stand it no longer.) God loves Israel so much that the silence they've been experiencing is about to end.  That was surely good news for those who longed for God.

The new name over Israel is good news--loud news—and everyone who hears the good news is going to understand immediately what's happened to Israel:  "You shall no more be termed Forsaken, and your land shall no more be termed Desolate; but you shall be called My Delight Is in Her, and your land Married . . ."

God will not be quiet, because God desires only to be loud until it is understood who God's love is, who gives God delight, and to whom God is married. 

That is something we see in today's gospel reading as well.  It isn't the wedding so much that catches our attention.  It's the hush from Jesus' own mouth that catches us. Jesus instructs his own mother to . . .hush.  He doesn't even have to say it to mean it.  It's written all over his face.  Mary is not to be loud.  God will be loud at this wedding, -when the time is right.

“What concern is it of yours that the wine has run out?  Why are you directing me?  This is not your business.  This is God's business--God’s opportunity. So hush now, and I will act at God's direction--when the time is right.”

And God bless her, Mary understood. She walks away leaving the servants behind, and simply saying “Do whatever he tell you (when he tells you…when the time is right.)”

God can be very loud, even when God is quiet.  God has been that way for ever, both loud and quiet at the same time.  --Like the story passed down to us of Adam and Eve in the garden.  They have done something they shouldn't have.  A light bulb has gone on above their heads and they're not feeling too good about it.  When the leaves of the trees are heard rustling in the wind, leaves being crushed under foot, God is also heard—loud.  They run away--try to hide--but they hear the questioning of God instead:  "Where are you?  Why are you hiding?

When Jonah had finished his preaching task at Ninevah, he sat himself down in the hot sun outside the city.  His mission was over, but not his complaining.  God loved Jonah and blessed him, even if he was a grump.  As you remember, God set a bush to grow up over Jonah to shade and protect the poor little complainer.  Yet, by the time of sunrise the following day, a worm had attacked the bush, God's gift of grace, and caused it to wither and die. So Jonah was found complaining some more.  (No light bulb yet.)

But then, in the heat of sun, in the silence of the morning, Jonah hears God loud and clear.  "Is it right for you to be angry about the bush?  You are concerned about the bush, for which you did not labor and which you did not grow; it came into being in a night and perished in a night.  And should I not be concerned about Ninevah, that great city, in which there are a 120 thousand persons, not to mention all the cows?" (I guess God thought if he couldn’t appeal to Jonah as a people lover, then maybe he could reach him as an animal lover.)

Loud.  God can be very loud.  With each of us, God has been loud.  Yet, even though this is true, many of us could also claim we haven't heard God at all; we don't have the slightest clue as to what God really sounds like.  But isn't that nonsense?  

Isn't it more likely that we haven't heeded the call to be still, --to hush and listen long enough to hear, --to quit complaining or directing long enough to hear? 
Aren't we a lot like Jonah sometimes—closed-minded, unforgiving, unreasonable, un-grace-full, hard-headed—when things don't go our way?
Aren't we a lot like Jesus' mother sometimes, insistent on knowing when and where God ought to appear and act, and what God should say or do?

 “Be still, and know that I am God” --Psalm 46:10.  That's my favorite Psalm verse—or maybe my least favorite, because it constantly calls me to do what I'm usually not doing--and what I know God wants me to do:  to be still!  To listen for God!

It's what God wants from all of us, regularly—hopefully before but certainly whenever we start to lose touch, to lose focus of our purpose, of our mission, of our place as Christians—of what we are about as a community and as individuals representative of Christ.
 
When we start being less than grace-full people, when we mistreat and hurt one another, when we don't appreciate each other, when we hurt and mistreat and are unappreciative of God by trying to carve out our own way without God's help and guidance and leading, we had better remember to be still, to be totally still. To shut ourselves down. To drop all our preconceived notions about what God is like (because God is much more than anything we can conceive). To cease offering our opinions of who is deserving of God's love or God's wrath, and why.  (God really isn't interested in our opinions on judgment matters anyway.  In fact, God specifically told us not to do that--to judge others on his behalf.  "What concern is that to you?"

What God is interested in is our being still—listening, learning, allowing God to be with us and in us.

We are God's delight, God's true love, and we are married to God in Christ Jesus.  And the good news is that the Church of Christ can be a lot louder than it is in proclaiming that good news as long, as we remember that there are times to be quiet—to be still.

It's a healthy balance.  There is room for noise, the celebration that is ours—the laughter, the joy, the proclaiming that God has given us a new name.

But there is also room for silence—loud silence.  
The silence that was there when Israel received her new name.  The silence that allows us to hear and see and know God in new and old ways, and in ever deepening, ever strengthening, ever faithful truth.

Today is a day for both. Today at the baptismal font, we will listen and look for God in the water, in the words, in the oil of Holy Baptism. If we will be still and listen for that still, small, incredibly loud voice of God, we will hear God say, “Olivia. You have a new name! You are called my delight is in you. For you are my true love. I rejoice over you.”

And then we will welcome Olivia, with great celebration—loud celebration—as our newest sister in Christ, and as a member of our family in whom we delight, and in whom we rejoice.

May we listen for and hear the voice of God.
May we all feel God’s loving touch.
And may we know the joy of his presence in every moment of our lives.
And the good news that God delights in you!

In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
Amen.