On the Third Day

On the Third Day

They had been walking together for awhile. In the fullness of time, some would say on the third day, they were tired. They had come about far enough. They tried to live quietly. They tried to follow the rules made by those in power. They mostly tolerated the falling down schools, the poor wages, the wretched health care, the brutality of those riding around in cars with the emblem “Protect and Serve” They knew that motto meant protect the Rich and serve the Masters In the fullness of time, a few at a time, they sat down. They sat down in busses. They sat down at lunch counters. They sat and they marched. And when the police dogs bit them they kept on walking. When the fire hoses knocked them down, they got up and kept on marching. Together they walked. People power on the move. Their willingness to walk together with dignity, carrying their human dignity like a candle in the night, like a light in the darkness, overcame the darkness.

Their ability to walk with dignity came from their willingness to follow the Prince of Peace, the King of Non Violence. Like their ancestors before them, they had heard the white man’s Gospel. They knew the passages from the Apostle Paul: slaves obey your masters. They knew those bits and pieces of the scripture because those were the ones most preached on by the Master’s priests and pastors. Yes they knew those bits from the great preacher Paul. But they knew Jesus too. They knew in their bones the stories of Jesus. The acceptable day of the Lord was here. Jesus was Good News preached to those held captive. Jesus was Liberation to those in bondage. The Good News would not be contained by any attempt of holy men who would pluck out a verse here and there that could be read to keep God’s Beloved sons and daughters in their places of servitude.

On the third day. In the fullness of time. John’s Gospel says that on such a day Jesus and his followers were at a family party. A wedding. A celebration that was as much about social status as it was about personal happiness. This bridegroom finally had enough money to take his place in the community of men who have arrived. He can pay the dowry for a good match. He and his family have invited everyone in the village, and the cousins near and far to come and celebrate. It is a time of eating and drinking and dancing and telling stories. A Mediterranean wedding is the time to renew friendships, and business ties and to solidify the family’s place in the social order. Just about the worst thing that can happen is a breach of hospitality; running out of supplies just when the guests are getting comfortable. And that is exactly what has happened

Mary comes over from the women’s quarters and finds her son. Do something She knows that this social earthquake can be dealt with. He says not now, not yet. With infinite grace and profound confidence she tells the servants: do whatever he asks. Whatever. Anything he asks. She is not fazed by the petulance of his rejection. She is not concerned that anything other than a miracle will happen. As she disappears back to the gathering of women, Jesus calls the servants, and they do exactly what he says.

On the third day, in the fullness of time, what seemed to be impossible suddenly changes. The tipping point is reached and suddenly everything is different. For whom is this miracle offered? Is it offered for the bridegroom who would otherwise face humiliation among those on whom his family’s prosperity depends? Probably. Is this miracle offered for the steward, the book keeper and household manager, the wedding manager who might otherwise take the blame for poor planning? Perhaps. Does this great transformation take place so that the disciples might believe? Yes perhaps, and that is the effect. But I wonder if the changing of the water into wine is for the encouragement of the servants. Perhaps some or all of them are slaves. Each and every one is dependent, at risk, vulnerable to the whims and caprices of those who employ them. If they are discharged and dumped on the street they will likely die.

In the fullness of time God sees with eyes of compassion that God’s beloved are thirsty. Thirsty for survival. Thirsty for respect. Thirsty for a better life for their children. And the Promise of Liberation is among them, among us. The Promise of Liberation is the Word Made Flesh. The Promise of Liberation is Him of whom the wise men and wise women say: Do whatever he tells you.

On this day, our hearts break for men and women in Haiti searching the rubble for their children, for those whose homes and schools and workplaces are crumbles of concrete. We weep with those whose shelter from the scorching sun is a blood drenched sheet. We feel the thirst of those who have nothing to eat or drink. On this day Jesus invites us to look around for some jars and fill them with water. We don’t need to do anything miraculous. Not one of us is Spider Man, Wonder Woman or any other kind of Superhero. We are just ordinary faithful people. In the face of enormous disaster we can be easily overwhelmed by how much suffering we cannot soothe. We are just ordinary faithful people, servants of a compassionate God. We only need to do our little part, to fill up what we have and make it available in the time of need. People power, on the move can move the mountains. God will do the work of converting that water. On the third day, somehow, there is and shall be a trickle of hope, a flicker light, a glimmer of life in the midst of disaster. And the people say: Amen