All Souls
Bethlehem
Church

Last week we began the season of Epiphany, talking about different ways of understanding its meaning as part of a larger discussion about spiritual maturity. Today I'm working with the idea of Epiphany very broadly, that is as an encounter with life's spiritual dimension. And I'd like to propose, based on out two readings, that there's something inherently transformative about the Spirit of God. We don't experience Spirit and continue on unchanged. It is the nature of Spirit to change and transform, to heal and renew, which we see evidence of in today's Gospel story.

I want to point out a couple of things about the Gospel account of Jesus turning water into wine. First of all it seems like an appropriate story in the context of spiritual maturity since it's the first miracle story and good Jewish fashion it involves a struggle between the first-born son and his mother. Jesus' mother tells him to do something and, though he obliges, he does so somewhat defiantly, saying "my time has not yet come."

Another interesting detail in the story is the reaction of the guest who says most people serve the best wine first, then, when nobody is paying attention, they serve the cheap stuff. In other words there is something counter-intuitive to the approach of Jesus, or, more broadly still, something surprising about God. Already, I would argue, we are seeing hints of transformation. Our expectations, based on past experience, are transformed by a new way of being in the world.

It was that way two thousand years ago, and it's that way in modern times as well. Consider the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Imagine, an African American born into a Jim Crow system, basically apartheid. What might he expect? A lifetime of drinking from colored only water fountains and riding on the back of the bus. Would it be reasonable for him to expect that he might win the Nobel peace prize or have his birthday set aside as a national holiday? That would defy people's expectations. And yet it happened. That's not to say King was perfect. He wasn't and he never claimed to be and more to the point spiritual maturity is not about perfection. He shows what I would say is a profound humility, in fact, when he says about his movement toward non-violence that it's not about moral superiority.

"Moreover, I see the pacifist position not as sinless but as the lesser evil in the circumstances. Therefore I do not claim to be free from the moral dilemmas that the Christian non-pacifist confronts."

He's saying that even if we do our best to shun violence and live in a manner similar to Jesus' challenge of loving our enemies, there will still be moral ambiguity and struggle. But the deeper wisdom here is that, as we seek to open ourselves to the transformative power of the Gospel, we find ourselves pulled deeper into a life of love, a life that often finds itself in direct opposition to the powers that be.

Today's theme of transformation provides one lens through which we can do that. Think of the initial tragedy: a terribly violent shaking of the earth itself. I've been in an earthquake so I have a tiny sense of what it's like and trust me, it's terrifying. It the loudest thing I've ever heard and there's something terribly unsettling about the walls of a building your in shaking violently. And I was in a small earthquake in a well built building. The Hatian people were in a major earthquake in poorly constructed buildings most of which crumbled.

Here's a first hand account of the quake's aftermath by David Wilson, someone I'm aware of through Brooklyn for Peace:

         > Singing and Praying at Night in Port-au-Prince
         > by David L. Wilson
         >
         > PORT-AU-PRINCE, Jan. 13--Several hundred people had gathered to sing, 
         > clap, and pray in an intersection here by 9 o'clock last night, a 
         > little more than four hours after an earthquake had devastated much of 
         > the Haitian capital. Another group was singing a block away, on the 
         > other side of the Hotel Oloffson, where I was camping out.
         >
         > I couldn't make out many of the words. "Alleluia" was the refrain for 
         > some of the hymns the group at the crossroads sang. A minister was 
         > preaching to the other group about Bondye ("God") and kretyen 
         > ("Christians"). The congregants replied with bursts of song.
         >
         > There were frequent aftershocks. With each tremor, the singing stopped 
         > and the singers wailed; after several minutes the hymns would resume.
         > Many of the people in the streets had lost their homes, but even those 
         > whose houses weren't affected sat outdoors for fear of what might 
         > happen if they were inside when the aftershocks came.

We know from the news coverage how devastated the region is and nothing I say is going to detract from that pain and suffering.

But in the aftermath of this great tragedy a transformation took place as the heart of the world was awakened. All over the world people garnered resources and began the relief effort. Here in New York, which has one of the largest Hatian communities outside of Haiti, the Mayor gave a press conference detailing the steps the City and State governments were taking to provide assistance. Right here in Kensington, our own little neighborhood coffee shop, Vox Pop, made its computer available to Hatian Americans who were desperately trying to reach relatives back home. They've also arranged for a container to ship relief supplies so if you want to drop off items for that, you know where to do it.

Right after hearing about Vox Pop's efforts I got an email from Bill Nye (our mininster Em-Emeritus) suggesting a special offering we took today. And Joe Indelicato, a member of our church who teaches psychology at Touro College called to say he had a group of Physician Assistant students from Touro who were willing to drop everything and go to Haiti.

The ongoing protest and vigil in support of Jean Montrevil was transformed as well. Jean as you know is a Haitian living in Brooklyn who is facing deportation to Haiti by ICE (a US immigration agency). At the Mayor's press conference one of the spokesperon's called for a halt to all planned deportations to Haiti and I of course thought of Jean. This past Thursday at a rally outside the detention center where he was initially held, people lamented the great tragedy of the earthquake and the already widespread compassion for this one Haitian man beset by immigration difficulties was extended to the people of his ancestral home. His wife and four children, all US citizens, were there at the rally. I'm sure they were struggling with their own fears and concerns for loved ones back home. But they were there in solidarity with the other immigration activists.

I want to add two footnotes to the disaster in Haiti that, though the initial expression of good will was genuinely encouraging, we have to be Vigilant in our watchfulness of the overall situation to make sure we don't slip down the slippery slope toward post-Katrina-like indifference.

Secondly, as part of the effort to be spiritually mature we need to avoid falling into a condescending kind of attitude that says, “Oh, the poor Haitian people, if only they hadn't suffered this terrible earthquake.” The truth of course is the people of Haiti were suffering terribly long before the earthquake and in part because of US intereventionism in the region. I'm sure many of you know it was a nation formed by slaves who threw off their oppressors and the powers that be have not looked kindly on that nation.

Somewhat closer to home but across the river in New Jersey I participated in the funeral for Rob's father, Steve. There were of course many examples of spiritual transformation I could cite but I'll just mention two. Rob's sister, EJeanne, told us a story of being in the bathroom while her dad was shaving when he said to her, “You know, we are a lucky family because of all the love we have.” EJeanne was about seven years old so she said, “Hmm. Love.” And counting the letters, one-two-three-four. For the next forty years Steve called EJeanne number four. Everybody assumed that was because she was the fourth child but nobody noticed so it was a little secret between her and her dad.

The other thing that really touched me about Steve's life was how near the end, after being married for over sixty years, he was calling out for his bride. How beautiful. And so it was that the grief of those mourning his loss were truly able to celebrate a great life and a great man.

A final illustration of suffering transformed by a vision of a unified human family comes from the struggle for justice by a local inter-faith leader, Debbie Almontaser....You all know the basic outlines of Debbie's story. How she rose to a position of leadership after 9/11, helping to educate people about the Muslim community here in New York. How the Post slandered her and how the Department of Education then pressured her to resign.

I invoke it in this context of spiritual transformation because of a conversation I had with Debbie's husband, Naji. We were talking about how to get the word out about her upcoming trial so we could muster a strong showing of community support. Naji said, "You know, we get bombarded by negative messages all day long on TV and various news outlets. But you never hear about the kind of love and support that Debbie's experiencing right now as everyone is reaching out to show their support. It reminded me of William James' observation that we need the moral equivalent of war, something equally powerful but instead of leading to death and destruction, it would lead to healing and growth.

Talking to Naji I couldn't help but marvel at this man's capacity, in the midst of a law-suit over his wife being forced to resign by anti-Arab racism, talking about the good in people that he sees. That demonstrates a spiritual capacity to transform the ugliness of racism into something truly beautiful. Spiritual maturity. May we all work on our ability to see the good in the midst of life's storms. Amen.