The Second Sunday after the Epiphany-the Rev Melanie Lemburg
Epiphany 2C
January 16, 2022
“I hope my babies can be in the wedding
service.” A colleague who had been a
priest for over 30 years was telling me a story of the latest wedding he had
done in his church, and this is what the bride kept telling him over and
over. “I hope my babies can be in the
wedding service.” “Well, of course your
babies can be in the wedding service,” he kept reassuring her. It did occur to him to wonder why this bride
was so insistent on her babies being in the wedding while at the same time so
insecure about it, but he quickly stowed those thoughts away. On the day of the wedding, the bride showed
up with her babies proudly in tow—male and female chihuahuas dressed in a tux
and a bridal gown. She proceeded to have
them wheeled down the aisle in a baby carriage as a part of the wedding
procession, much to the dismay of my friend who had assured her repeatedly that
her babies could be in her wedding. He
concluded that conversation by saying, “and that’s why, every time we have a
wedding, here at St. Mark’s, I have to update the wedding customary. This week I added the line: “no
chihuahuas.”
Weddings are fraught with
expectations. In these very public
celebrations of new life and new family, the expectations of all the major
players—bride and groom, their parents, sometimes their siblings and extended
relatives and others-collide. It’s not
uncommon that right around the time that we do our pre-marital counseling session
on conflict for there to have been some significant conflict around the
wedding—either between the bride and the groom or a member of the wedding party
and a parent--which we spend time unpacking and discussing to learn more about
how the couple handles both conflict and expectations of others.
It’s interesting to me to see in our
gospel passage for today a snapshot of similar dynamics at work in a wedding
during Jesus’s own day. Jesus’s mother
(who is never called by name in John’s gospel) learns that the wedding feast is
about to run out of wine. This is a huge
scandal and would reflect very poorly on the new couple and their families. Mary
goes to Jesus and tells him the situation, and Jesus responds: “Woman, what
concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” Mary doesn’t answer him, but instead tells
the servants: “Do whatever he tells you.”
And then he just does it. Jesus
turns the water into wine and no one except the servants and his disciples even
know that he has done it.
I can’t help but wonder what shifts in
Jesus in that moment after he answers Mary?
Why does he decide that it is his concern and that ok, maybe the time is
right for his first miracle? (One of my colleagues has suggested that maybe Jesus
decided that it was easier to just go ahead and change the water into wine that
to deal with his mamma after they got home.) It’s interesting, too, that this
change in Jesus’s understanding of the timing of his mission happens in the
gospel of John, where Jesus is so unemotional, unmovable, so focused on his
mission, and more divine seeming than human.
I’d like to understand what happens here when Mary’s expectations for
Jesus collide with his own expectations and understanding of his mission.
Last weekend, my family and I watched the
Disney movie Encanto. Encanto is an animated film that tells the
story of the Madrigal family, who
received a lineage of unique, magical gifts for each of their offspring after
their Columbian village was overrun by armed men in the dark of night. In addition to the magical gifts, the family
is given a magical house, and they have decided to use all of these resources
to protect the other members of their village and keep them safe from
harm. The movie follows the story of
Mirabel, the main character, who is the only member of the family to not
receive a magical gift, and it explores the weight of expectations on key
members of the family to use their gifts in a way that is of service to the
family and the community. Mirabel isn’t
able to live into the expectation of having a magical gift, so she
overcompensates by trying to be super-helpful.
Other characters feel burdened by the weight of expectations to use
their gifts to the fullest, often to the sacrifice of their own wellness. And when facing the threat of losing their
gifts, they begin to question their own self-worth. Mirabel’s oldest sister Luisa, whose gift is
super-strength,has a whole song about this:
“If
I could shake the crushing weight of expectations
Would
that free some room up for joy?
Or
relaxation, or simple pleasure?
Instead
we measure this growing pressure
Keeps
growing, keep going
'Cause
all we know is
Pressure
like a drip, drip, drip that'll never stop, woah
Pressure
that'll tip, tip, tip till you just go pop, woah
Give
it to your sister, it doesn't hurt and
See
if she can handle every family burden
Watch
as she buckles and bends but never breaks
No
mistakes”
In Encanto, the characters
realize that expectations of others do not have to define their identities or self-worth. They learn to evaluate expectations of their
own and that they have received from others, (especially their Abuela, who is
the head of the family) and to determine which ones should be kept and which
ones could be discarded for them to be healthier and more whole.
All this makes me wonder if Jesus’s
change is less about succumbing to his mother’s expectations of him and more
about reevaluating and shifting his own expectations of his ministry?
In this season where all of our
expectations for life continue to be disrupted and upended, this is a helpful
reminder for all of us.
What expectations of yourself do you
have that are deeply engrained that you may need to reevaluate during this
season? Where in your life are expectations crushing
the possibility of more joy, more relaxation, more pleasure? What might be a way that God is calling you
to change or grow in a way that is different from your expectations of how
things should go?
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