Epiphany 2 C: What Grace Looks Like!

Posted by DJL on Jan 18, 2019 in Dear Partner | 6 comments

Dear Partner in Preaching,

Another wonderful week in the parish has left me with little time to write, so I will repost the piece I wrote 3 years ago. Given all the acrimony and accusation that colors our political discourse, increasingly free-floating anxiety fueled by very real concerns about the economy and environment (among other things), and a generally bleak news cycle, perhaps it will still be helpful, as I think that at this moment in particular it’s easy to forget that grace abounds, often in unlikely places, and that witnessing to it and sharing it with others still has the ability to transform lives.

Blessings on your preaching!
David

January 11, 2016
Dear Partner in Preaching,

So this is what grace looks like!

Grace, of course, is one of those words that, while central to our theological identity and vocabulary, is often hard for us to define, let alone describe in a concrete and meaningful way. Consider, for instance, how some of the more recent and sometimes paraphrased translations have worked with “grace” as it appears in a verse like Romans 3:24 – “They are now justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus” (NRSV). J. B. Phillips describes it as God’s “generous dealing” with us, while Eugene Peterson’s “The Message” talks about God putting us in right standing “out of sheer generosity” and talks about grace as “a gift.”

Both of those translations are great attempts at making what the Christian tradition means by “grace” more concrete and accessible, of course. But in order to capture a more “three-dimensional” sense of grace, don’t forget this passage from John. Because John moves us beyond the “free gift” and “generosity” sense of grace to remind us that grace also means abundance. As in unbelievable, more-than-you-can-possibly-imagine, abundance.

Keep in mind, for a moment, the scene: Jesus and his disciples are at a wedding and the hosts run out of wine. Inconvenient, we will probably acknowledge, perhaps embarrassing, but is it really such a big deal? Yes. Because in this time and place, running out of wine too early isn’t just a social faux pas, it’s a disaster. Wine isn’t merely a social lubricant, you see, it’s a sign of the harvest, of God’s abundance, of joy and gladness and hospitality. And so when they run short on wine they run short on blessing. And that’s a tragedy.

Which is when Jesus, prompted by his mother, steps in and provides not just more wine, but more wine than the whole crowd could have drunk not only during the three days of the wedding feast, but probably across three weeks. In changing the water of those six large basins of water for purification, you see, Jesus is providing close to an additional thousand bottles of additional wine. And not only that, but as the surprised steward discovered, it’s not just a cheap bottle of Chianti, but the best wine yet served.

And that, according to John, is what grace is like: an overflowing of joy, blessing, and the presence of God.

As we’ve regularly seen in our study of the Gospels, first things matter. Mark describes the exorcising of a demon as the first thing Jesus does. And Luke – as we’ll see over the next two weeks – reports the first thing Jesus did is preach a sermon of release and freedom and healing. And each of these things matters, as they set the tone and even theological agenda for those particular gospels. Which is why it’s significant that in the Fourth Gospel John describes the first thing that Jesus does as providing more wine, joy, and blessings than this couple – or any couple – could possibly have imagined or deserved.

Because that’s what grace looks like.

Which seems like a timely message to share, particularly as it is so incredibly counter-cultural. I mean, look around – about the only things folks can talk about today is scarcity. We don’t have enough money or food or security or power or privilege. Perhaps it’s like this normally, but especially during an election year it seems like candidates revel in telling us all the things that are wrong in order to win our vote by vowing to make it better.

And the reason they do this is simple: we’re disposed by evolution to pay attention to scarcity and fear. Think about it: if you miss opportunity, it might be a bummer, but if you miss acknowledging a real threat – including running out of something essential – well, that might be deadly. And so we’re hard-wired to pay attention to scarcity and lack and fear. And so everyone from marketers to politicians (and you’ll be forgiven if you occasionally confuse the two!) focus their energy and creativity on creating in us a sense of lack in order to promise us they can fill it.

Too often, I worry, we’ve defined the Gospel in the same, limited ways. To hear some theologians and preachers – and I’ll admit that I’ve fallen into this rut from time to time too – Jesus lived, preached, taught, fed, cured, eventually was crucified, and was raised again by God, all in order that God will overlook our misdeeds. Don’t get me wrong, the forgiveness of sins is a central and important element of our faith. But too often we’ve spoken of it as the only element of faith, as if Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection were a kind of divine “white out” for the check marks against us on St. Peter’s ledger.

Which is why I’m grateful for John to remind us that grace isn’t only about making up for something we lack, but also providing more than we’d ever imagined or deserve. I mean, Jesus could have provided just enough wine for the party to go on, and, given that people have already been drinking a few days, even a pedestrian bottle would have been gratefully received. But he went way, way beyond expectations to provide more and better wine than they ever could have expected.

Why? Because that’s what grace looks like.

All of which makes me wonder, Dear Partner, if this week we couldn’t take an inventory of our congregation and see how we might surprise those around us with an abundance of blessing. What is it, in other words, that you have a ton of and other people need? Is it smiles? Could you send your folks out to smile at every person they see, whether familiar or not? In a world where suspicion is on the rise, that would be powerful. What about hugs or hospitality? Could everyone in the congregation be sent out to invite one person to lunch or to their home just to be hospitable? Or what about space? Do you have Sunday school rooms that are empty six days a week? Then what about partnering with an interfaith hospitality network like Family Promise to help the more than 2.5 million children and their parents who will face homelessness this year. Or what about quilts? Are your quilters already working with Lutheran World Relief to provide tangible comfort to those abroad and in need? If not, join in. Further, given that many of us will be passing budgets at annual meetings this Sunday or soon into the new year, might we asked if we’ve looked closely enough at our budgets to discover how much more generous we might be?

The possibilities, really, are endless. (Another sign of abundance! J) These are just a few ideas, but each of them – and all the ones you and your people will come up with – will remind us that grace is a free gift of God’s generosity…and it’s also the abundance of joy and blessing and life that are ours through Christ.

Thank you so much for making this word and experience a little more concrete this week, Dear Partner. We could all use a little more grace, and this is a perfect chance to share it. Blessings on your proclamation.

Yours in Christ,
David