Readings:            Isaiah 62:1-5; Psalm 36:5-10; 1 Corinthians 12:1-11; John 2:1-11

These Sundays after Christmas are part of the season of Epiphany.  Literally translated from the Greek, it means a "personal appearance", "a manifestation" or "a showing".  This season seeks to celebrate the revelation of God incarnate to us.  It seeks to show how God is revealed to us.  It helps to unfold the great mystery of the Incarnation, a mystery revealed through signs and wonders, and participated in by all of creation.  It is a possibility so wonderful that it changes even the past.  It is the eternal truth for the future. 

No doubt we most readily associate the Epiphany with the story of the magi bringing gifts to Jesus, paying homage to the one they recognize as Messiah.  God, the God of Israel, is made available to the Gentiles.  God is revealed to the whole world. 

But Scripture contains not one, but many revelations of Jesus to the world.  We read about one in today's gospel.  A rather curious one, sometimes called the 'luxury miracle'.  For the same Christ who resisted the temptation to turn stones into bread to satisfy his own hunger, turned water into wine to allow the guests at a wedding feast to make merry. 

Was it necessary, this show of power?  The host, it is true, was helped out of an embarrassing situation.  But did it have any lasting benefit on those present?  Did it have the impact that the healing miracles had?  It did not even have any great impact on those present.  Although Jesus demonstrated great power, few people even knew about it.  there were no fire works.  There was no announcement.  There was no recognition that Jesus had accomplished anything.  But it was there for those who could see it.  And it revealed that the glory and power of God is available within the ordinary, common,  everyday circumstances of life. 

The Corinthians were looking for signs and wonders in their own lives.  Such signs, they reasoned, would assure them that God was with them.  The surest sign for them, the one that they looked for in themselves and in others, was glossalalia, praying in tongues.  Surely if their words came from God, foreign words which they did not even understand, then they could be assured that God was truly present in them.  It was demonstrable.  Other people could see it and recognize God in them.  Others would hear them praying in tongues and know that they were holy people.  That God had blessed them. 

"No!" says Paul.  Ecstasy or enthusiasm is no criteria for true spirituality.  A deep religious experience is just not enough.  God is the giver, the source of every gift.   Each, even the one that seems the least significant, is a spiritual gift.  There needs to be a quality of spirit in the life of the Christian, he tells them, a quality that enhances the life of the whole community.  And you know, the wonder of it all is that the gift used for the common good offers the most back to the one who offers it.   

What signs do we seek of God's presence?  Do we miss the signs that are all around us because they are too ordinary, too commonplace? 

I recently met a journalist whose work often takes him to Russia.  When he discovered that I was clergy, it opened up some very interesting dialogue between us.  "I am not religious," he assured me.  "I'm an agnostic.  I don't see how anyone can see what goes on in the world and actually have faith." 

Where could I go from there?  Was it the beginning of an argument?  Was it the end of the discussion?  I changed the subject.  It seemed prudent.  I asked about his view of Russia.  He began, in an impassioned manner, to tell me of the desperate situation there; of the terrible hardships people were enduring.  "And the rest of the world does nothing!"  He said. 

Then he got back to the church.  Why is it always the so-called agnostics who want to talk about the faith?  "I don't understand it," he said.  "How can people keep faith in such desperate times?  But they do," he continued.  "I met a priest over there who was in prison for forty-four years.  For his faith!" he told me.  "Can you believe it?  He is one of the few priests left to serve in his country.  They all died in prison.  There he is, over seventy years old, starting over again, ministering to his people.  And the churches are full.  Faith has been rekindled.  It almost makes a believer out of me!" he shared. 

The incarnation is such a significant mystery.  A connection was made between God and us that changed all of history.  The connections are not finished with.  Such connections continue to be made.  They come, often unexpectedly.  Without our even knowing they have happened.  We cannot tell what the coincidences of life can mean.  We can only trust that God will help us to reach out to others as God has reached out to us.  Whatever the circumstances before us or the uncertainties about us, the signs of God's love and abiding presence are all about us.  We need only recognize and accept them. 

What are the signs for us?  What signs do we carry to others?  What gifts do we offer?  What glory is being revealed in and through us?