Loving Beyond Limits: Embracing the Platinum Rule

You probably know of the Golden Rule, but have you heard of the Platinum Rule?

 

Genesis 45:3-11, 15

Psalm 37:1-12, 41-42

1 Corinthians 15:35-38,42-50

Luke 6:27-38

 

©2025 The Rev. Seth Olson

This sermon was inspired by the above readings and was preached on the 7^th Sunday after the Epiphany at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL. A video of the sermon may be found here.

Holy God, may my words be your words, and when my words are not your words, may your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

If we’re honest, the words of Jesus in today’s Gospel lesson from Luke are some of the most challenging in all of Holy Scripture: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.” This is a tall ask from Jesus—one that seems almost impossible, especially when the world feels more fractured and polarized than ever.

Jesus doesn’t leave much room for loopholes here either. He doesn’t say, “Love your enemies if they apologize first.” Nor does he command, “Do good to those who hate you if they meet you halfway.” No, his commandments are direct and uncompromising. And it’s not just for the sake of moral superiority—it’s about transformation. Loving our enemies is about participating in the redemptive work of God, both in the world and within ourselves.

But how do we live into that love, especially when the wounds are fresh or the divisions are deep? It might help to begin by revisiting a rule we know well—the Golden Rule: “Do to others as you would have them do to you.” It’s foundational to our faith and to many cultures worldwide. Treat others with the dignity and respect you wish for yourself.

Yet, in our increasingly complex world, some ethicists and theologians suggest we move beyond the Golden Rule to something even more radical—the Platinum Rule: Love others as they wish to be loved. It's not just about treating neighbors how I would want to be treated but about recognizing the unique needs, desires, and dignity of another person—even when that person appears to be an enemy.

To love an enemy in this way requires humility. It means setting aside our egos and listening deeply—not to agree, necessarily, but to understand. It means recognizing that each person, no matter how much we struggle to see it, is beloved by God. That’s the heart of this Gospel message—God’s love isn’t transactional. It’s not earned. It flows freely, even to those who oppose us.

Think of Joseph in our reading from Genesis. His brothers betrayed him, sold him into slavery, and left him for dead. Yet, when he stood in a position of power, able to exact revenge, Joseph chose mercy. “Do not be afraid,” he said, “Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good.” Joseph didn’t just tolerate his brothers—he actively chose reconciliation, seeing them not through the lens of past hurt but through the lens of God’s redemptive love.

This is also the challenge and the hope of Christian love—not just to love those who are easy to love but to love as God loves—without condition, without boundary, without exception. It doesn’t mean allowing abuse or ignoring injustice—Jesus’ command is not a call to passivity. Rather, it’s a call to respond to hate with love so radical that it breaks cycles of harm.

One powerful way to break these cycles is through what psychologists call "non-complementary behavior." Typically, human interactions follow a predictable pattern: kindness is met with kindness, hostility with hostility. But non-complementary behavior flips the script—responding to aggression with warmth, to contempt with compassion. It’s disarming because it defies expectations. It short-circuits a worldview built on “us vs. them.”

There’s a remarkable story shared on an old episode of the NPR podcast Invisibilia about a dinner party when the guests faced down an armed robber. Instead of reacting with fear or anger, they offered the man a glass of wine. This simple act of hospitality broke the cycle of aggression. While it was a disturbing encounter that left the guests in shock, the intruder, caught off guard by this unexpected kindness, put down his weapon, sat down to talk, and even asked for a group hug at the end of the encounter. The situation de-escalated, not through force, but through love extended in the face of threat.

This is precisely what Jesus calls us to do—not to match hostility with hostility but to respond in a way that transforms the encounter altogether. It’s hard. It feels unnatural. And, it can sometimes be dangerous, and I usually do not advocate us stepping into harms way, but sometimes that radical hospitality is the way love gains ground in a world bent on division.

So how might we live into this Platinum Rule, especially when love feels like the last thing we want to offer?

First, we can start with prayer—not just for those we love but for those who challenge us, oppose us, or are otherwise our enemies. It’s hard to hate someone you’re genuinely praying for. In prayer, we invite God to soften our hearts and to remind us of our shared humanity.

Second, we can choose curiosity over judgment. Y’all know I love the series Ted Lasso and in one of my favorite scenes of the whole show, the titular character quotes Walt Whitman while playing darts. “Be curious, not judgmental.” This sort of wondering has the power to completely transform our world or at least us. For when we are faced with someone who seems like an enemy, we can bypass our normal assumptions and stereotyping by pondering: What pain might they be carrying? What story haven’t I heard? How does God see this beloved one? This doesn’t excuse harmful behavior, but it opens the door to compassion.

And finally, we can act—small, deliberate acts of love that defy expectations. A kind word. An invitation to conversation. A willingness to see beyond labels and ideologies to the beloved child of God standing before us. At the same time, it is important not to deny our own belovedness. In the abundant kingdom of God, one does not have to be diminished for another to be enlarged. My Theology Professor in seminary called this non-competitive transcendence when we all rise together. 

So, these are three ways to begin practicing this Platinum Rule in your own life: prayer, curiosity, and small acts of kindness. 

In conclusion, this kind of love—enemy-love, Platinum Rule love—is not easy. But it is the way of Christ. It’s the love that led him to the cross and the love that broke the power of evil, sin, and even death. It’s the love that has the power to transform not just individual hearts but entire communities. It’s the love that changes this world from the nightmare it often is to the dream God has for it.

So, as we approach the altar today—as we receive Christ's Body and Blood, given for all—may we be strengthened to love not just as we wish to be loved, but as our neighbors, our enemies, and all God’s children wish to be loved. And, in this love we will glimpse the very heart of God. 

Amen.

If You Want To Go Far, (Be and) Go Together

An important piece of art created by Eileen Slifer

 Deuteronomy 18:15-20

Psalm 111

1 Corinthians 8:1-13

Mark 1:21-28

 

 © 2024 The Rev. Seth Olson

 

Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

 

When I was a senior in college, I thought I was hot stuff, and to be fair, I had an impressive résumé. I was a high achiever—head of campus dorm staff, a lead sacristan in the chapel, and most importantly to me, the captain of my cross-country team. I was no Jackson Mize, but for the University of the South—affectionately known as Sewanee—I was pretty good.

 

In this time of my over-sized ego, I looked for any and every way to motivate myself. One expression of my striving for glory manifested in writing a message to myself on the inside of my cross-country spikes. These shoes were black with a bright neon yellow leopard print pattern on them—mercifully my beloved spouse, Kim, has subsequently tossed them into the trash. However, on the inside of those spikes I wrote the first half of a well-known African proverb: If you want to go fast, go alone.

 

If you want to go fast, go alone. I was such a dork—and still am!

 

The truth is even when I wrote those words, I knew the second half of the phrase was more important. The whole saying is “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” Now I shared this very story on my first Sunday as a parish clergy person back in 2013 at St. John’s Church in Decatur, AL.

 

A dear parishioner there, Eileen Sifler, created this work in response to that message. It hangs in my office as a constant reminder. My ego may want to go fast and succeed quickly, but the deep desire of my soul is that in the community where I serve we go together. Jesus, the Christ, wanted to go together too. 

 

Christ Jesus was begotten from within the love of the Trinity—meaning he came from the diverse unity of God who is three-in-one and one-in-three. Jesus’ earthly ministry involved calling disciples to be at one with him, just as he and the Father are one, he wanted them to be at one with him. And, Jesus was clearly together with those who were in need, which we see shining through today’s Gospel lesson. 

 

In today’s Good News from Mark’s Gospel account, we discover Jesus’ connection with a man with an unclean spirit. Even though it was the Sabbath, and he would get blowback from the religious authorities, Jesus did not allow this man to continue in pain, for he was at one with those in need—and he still is together with us and any who are lacking. 

 

With that said, if you thumb through the first ten chapters of the Gospel according to Mark you might think that Jesus was more concerned with going fast than going together. The Greek word which we render as immediately appears no less than forty times in Mark. This frenetic pace (and the truth that it is the earliest and shortest of the Four Gospel accounts) means that it is a quick and enthralling read. If you have ninety minutes or a couple of hours on your hands you can take in the whole scope of Jesus’ ministry. 

 

Now even with this rapidly paced tale of his public ministry, we would be wise to remember a larger truth about life in Christ. It is somewhat obvious, but it evaded my grasp until the Rev. Sam Wells spoke at our Diocesan Convention two years ago. If you don’t know Sam Wells, he’s an English priest, theologian, and writer whose work is worth exploring. Anyway, Wells pointed out to our diocese a truth about Jesus’ life that I have not been able to put down since.

 

For the first thirty plus years of Jesus’ life, he simply was with others. What I mean is that his primary interaction was being with others. In synagogue, at Temple, in the carpentry shop, or at home—he was with us human beings. Then, for one year if you ask Matthew, Mark, or Luke or three years if you ask John, Jesus ministered with others. He was doing with others whether that was healing, teaching, feeding, leading, or praying. Finally, for the last week of his life—that week which we will remember this Holy Week—Jesus did for us. In his betrayal, death, and resurrection, Jesus took the weight of our sins upon him and God’s reply to our woundedness was unconditional, eternal, limitless love. 

 

The doing for us and the doing with us though had to be underpinned by the being with us. Yes, I want to go fast. I want to do. I want to achieve and build up this community. And yet, we must first be with one another. 

 

Now, one more thing before I stop blabbering. I am so excited to begin this shared ministry with you. And, here I believe we are sharing in Christ Jesus’ ministry among us—this part of the branch of the Jesus Movement, as our Presiding Bishop often says. I am so grateful and excited to begin this ministry; however, I was recently reminded by another wise pastor I admire Eugene Peterson in his work The Contemplative Pastor of something worth imparting in this moment. 

 

God has already been at work in this place and in your lives long before today. God has been with you and has been doing in your life and in the shared life of this community, and I cannot wait to hear about the good news of God according to each of you. I believe that God will be at work in your life, my life, and our shared life for as long as I am called to serve here. And, God will be here and working in your life and the life of this community even when I am called by God to serve elsewhere. Now, I pray that is not for a long, long, long time, but still this truth is worth remembering here on my first Sunday at Holy Apostles. God has always been with us, God is with us now, and God will always be with us.

 

So, let us be together with one another and with God, so that we can do with and do for each other in the ministries to which God calls us. My ego may want to go fast, still I believe that God wants us to go far, so let us be then go together. Amen. 

The In-Between

This week we find ourselves in-between:

-We (in Central Alabama) are in-between natural seasons, the calendar may say March, but it feels like we are in the dead of winter…

-Perhaps, we in-between seasons in our personal lives (more on that in a moment)…

-And, we are even in-between church seasons…

We have not yet started Lent, but Christmas and Epiphany are in the rearview mirror, and we are about to leave this year's long Season after the Epiphany. Most probably already know what Christmas is (the Incarnation of Christ in Jesus), and even may know that Epiphany is that moment when God became manifest to the whole world in Christ Jesus (see: the story of the Wise Men and the Baptism of Jesus), but Lent (as you may not know) is the 40 day season that leads us penitently to our holiest days during Holy Week and Easter. The last Sunday before Lent begins we hear of Jesus’ Transfiguration up on a high mountain, which was the case yesterday. This story is a familiar one that tells of Jesus taking his inner circle of disciples (Peter, James, and John) on a prayerful retreat, but instead of quiet they receive visions of Moses and Elijah as well as the overshadowing cloud of God. So what about the in-between nature of this week? 

Looking ahead to this coming Sunday, we will discover Christ Jesus (much earlier in the synoptic Gospel accounts) being cast out into the wilderness by the Spirit and there in the desert he must overcome temptations. A little closer at hand, tomorrow night we celebrate Shrove Tuesday or Mardi Gras when historically people got rid of all those tempting items in their pantries, homes, and even lives to prepare for the Pilgrim Journey that is Lent, which starts on Wednesday.

So right after Fat Tuesday we "celebrate" Ash Wednesday when we are reminded of our mortal nature—we are dust and to dust we shall return. We are also invited into a holy observance of Lent. Some people take on new prayer practices, while others get rid of something that they believe takes them away from God. So, to say the least this week in the life of the Church is an in-between time. It's a week when we jettison the last gleaming remnant of the Season after the Epiphany and put on the proverbial sackcloth and ashes, but not before indulging in pancakes, crepes, beignets, or maybe some form of cajun food on Tuesday night.  

This sort of in-between time can feel disorienting—corporately and individually. My instinct in topsy-turvy moments like this is to grab onto any nearby, bolted-down object, like I’m on a capsizing ship; however, today in the glow both of my first Sunday at All Saints' Homewood and the Transfiguration, I hear an invitation from God simply to be. Can I just be, can you just be, can we just be even when we are in the midst of transitions and transformations? 

What is going on in your personal life? Maybe you have just lost a friend or a loved one and are in the midst of grieving. Maybe you have recently moved but you do not quite feel at home. Maybe you are struggling with the weather or an illness or just feeling disconnected from loved ones, yourself, or even God. Maybe it is something else, like the changing liturgical seasons. And maybe you are like me, and so you try to grasp onto some belief, some practice, some person, or something else in the midst of change, as though these things will bring us to safety. However, in the in-between-ness that is life—for life is always shifting and changing and undergoing transformation—the only constant is God. 

And, strangely what I am figuring out slowly and with many trip-ups and mistakes along the way is that what God wants from me is not for me to figure it out or to get over any negative emotion or to make myself feel at home, or anything else I must do or achieve or earn, but rather God simply wants me to be. God wants me to be with Christ like Peter, James, and John were with Christ Jesus up on the high mountain. God wants me to be with Christ like the disciples were with Christ Jesus healing the child in the story after the Transfiguration ended. God wants me and us to be with Christ today and on Shrove Tuesday and on Ash Wednesday and through Lent and everyday. 

St. John's Church, Decatur

Recently moving from the beloved community of St. John’s Church, Decatur to the beloved community of All Saints’ Church, Homewood has me feeling like I am in-between. My wife, son, and I closed on a house, but we await renovations, so we’re camped out with my family in-between spaces. At church while some remodeling here is being completed I don't yet have an office, I am working in-between spaces. In my ministry my well-worn routines and practices are being reworked as I learn new things, new church rhythms, and drive a new way to work. I am learning to be with God and fellow children of God in the in-between.

All Saints' Church, Homewood

At times I get inpatient and feel frustration, as I want to grab onto a silver bullet, some snake oil, or a cure all, but the truth is whether it is a great overshadowing cloud, people clamoring for healing, the devil beckoning with temptations, or simply shear silence what remains constant through all these in-between times is God. Always God is and always God yearns for us to be with God through Christ and the Spirit. Amen.

More Than Just Dazzling Clothes

Was Jesus' Transfiguration just an ancient Tide ad, like this one? (http://bit.ly/2ElkWyE)

Last Sunday evening, as our youth gathered around a television screen to watch Super Bowl XLII—enjoying food and fellowship in the process—I could not help but chuckle a few times. We were playing advertisement bingo, so the room grew a bit quieter during the commercial breaks when we all tried to figure out if the next spot would bring us closer to yelling those marvelous words, “That’s a BINGO!” Some people claimed that this year’s lot of ads lacked luster, but at least a few drew rave reviews from our youth. One of our favorites I dare say was the Tide detergent commercial.

The advertisement in question begins with a somewhat familiar actor—David Harbour from the Netflix series Stranger Things. Harbour steps from one type of endorsement to another: “Just your typical Super Bowl Car ad, right?” “Or a hilarious beer ad,” Or a fragrance ad. But nope, we soon find out it’s a Tide ad. The other actors do not seem to comprehend that they are in a commercial about laundry detergent. They wonder, “What makes it a Tide ad?” The main character replies, “There’s no stains. Look at those clean clothes. What else would this be an ad for?” The humor heightens as Harbour debunks all the other potential advertisements—for diamonds, or cola, or a workout plan—leaving the audience pondering are all commercials with actors wearing clean clothes actually Tide ads? Mind-blown-emoji!

With this commercial fresh on my mind (pun intended) I found myself turning to our text for this morning. To tell you the truth I had a hard time getting passed Jesus’ dazzling white attire. How did his clothes become so bright? Was it a Tide Ad? No, beyond the bleaching power of that day and the mighty cleaning ability of today’s detergents, Jesus shone brightly before Peter, James, and John up on a high mountain. If we get stuck on the appearance of Jesus—and his special guests Moses and Elijah—we might simply believe this story highlights the mighty stage effects that the Son of Man could so easily conjure up (eat your heart out Super Bowl halftime show performers). And yet, this story of Jesus taking his inner circle of disciples onto a mountaintop gives us much more than a stunning wardrobe and marvelous special effects.

But, what actually happened when Jesus was transfigured? And, why does it matter to us?

How often do you use the words transfigure or transfiguration in your normal conversation? I bet not that often. I know I don’t say when spraying Shout onto my son’s dirty onesie, “Wow! That outfit was transfigured!”

Even the New Testament writers only employed this word four times. Once here in Mark, once in Matthew’s parallel Transfiguration account, and Paul utilized this word a couple of times in his letters (Romans and 2 Corinthians). While the same original word appears in all of these instances, we have been handed different interpretations of what this word means in our modern English.

Jesus was transfigured—as in his appearance changed—up on a mountain top in Mark’s and Matthew’s sharing of the Good News. Paul though used the same word and we hear it as a transformation of one’s mind. So which is it? Is it simply the appearance of someone changing or is it a fuller transformation that is taking place?

Right before Jesus took his disciples up that high mountain, Peter recognized that Jesus was the Messiah. Peter also denied that Jesus would willingly undergo any suffering, which resulted in Jesus calling Peter Satan. And yet, a thread connects these events: Peter recognized Jesus as the Messiah, then Jesus appeared in a manner befitting the Messiah.

So, it’s just about one’s appearance being bright? Are we back to our Tide ad here? Is it only about looking good? Is it simply about showing up in dazzling white attire? No, the Transfiguration calls us not only to see Jesus changing before our very eyes, but also God transforming us!
When Jesus was transfigured before the disciples his appearance changed, but as he came off of that mountain he was not still dazzling bright blinding everyone in his path. So, maybe this moment was about the disciples’ reception and understanding of Jesus changing as much as his appearance being altered? We do not often talk about transfigurations in our own lives, but we do speak frequently about transformation!

We celebrate the Transfiguration every year at the end of the Season after Epiphany and right before the Season of Lent. In a moment when we experience an Epiphany about who Jesus is we are challenged not to get too attached to it. We cannot build booths to hold onto the experience. Instead we are called to allow this moment to transform us. This Transfiguration is not only about Jesus’ appearance, but it is about also our perception of him as the Messiah.

Here we see the transformed, transfigured Jesus in our very midst, and how can we not be changed? This is why we celebrate this occasion every year because we are people who witness the Messiah’s transformational power and we cannot help but be overcome by it! The Transfiguration of Jesus calls us to be transformed too. But, what do we do after it’s all over, after the cloud goes and the words “This is my Son the Beloved, listen to him” fade?

Jesus did not hide away on a mountaintop basking long in the loving words of the Father. Instead, Jesus knew what lay ahead and he came down off that mountain. We too must walk this way with Jesus. Life in Christ calls us to go through peaks and valleys both! Certain moments we recognize quite clearly the bright, shining figure of Christ in our midst. Then, sometimes we can barely make out the obscured outline of Christ seemingly in the distance, but Christ dwells always more intimately to us than we can know or imagine!

We celebrate this moment of dazzling clarity right now because we love happy mountain moments—like hosting Diocesan Convention so very well this weekend, but the Transfiguration changes us such that we cannot stay up here. No, we are called to keep on walking, walking back down to everyday life in Christ, and soon to walk the pilgrim way of Lent. We journey with Jesus on this way to Jerusalem.

In this time between mountain and valley may we keep on focusing upon Christ and keep on walking with him! May we follow Jesus not just when things are bright and beautiful, but also when things appear dark and dreary. When the construction is noisy, when the bathrooms keep moving, when our favorite ministry is on hold; when we have more questions than answers, when we are annoyed with the way the world works, when we are frustrated with the powers that perpetuate the status quo; when we are sick, when we are frail, when we are broken; when we are burnt out, belligerent, or jaded. In those times just like when things are all sunshine and dazzling clothes—yes, like in a Tide ad—may we recognize and celebrate that Christ walks with us.

Christ Jesus walks with us transfiguring and transforming the way we go. As we go down the mountain to Jerusalem to Lent to Holy Week may we celebrate the Transfiguring love of Jesus who changes even the Cross and Death into Resurrection and Life. So, while everything is not a Tide Ad everything is a reminder of the Transfiguration, for everything is about God’s transforming love.

Standing Out

This coming Sunday we move from Matthew’s first-hand description of the Baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist in the River Jordan to the Baptizer’s second-hand account in the Gospel according to John. At first this leaves me thinking, “Oh great, we get to hear the same story, but from an obscured point-of-view.” However, as I read through the Fourth Gospel’s telling of the baptism of Jesus, which began his public ministry, several key details stand out!

First, John describes Jesus as the “Lamb of God.” As someone who has never dealt with lambs directly, I cannot truly say what they are like. On the one hand they seem like submissive, vulnerable, and often weak animals such that one herding dog can manage an entire flock. On the other hand, I recall a classmate in seminary describing her attempts to teach her German Shepherd to herd sheep and how difficult that task truly was because of the lambs’ ability to be obstinate, strong, and even bullish! As John recognizes his inferiority to this lamb, this use appears to be leaning towards the latter, although true strength comes from laying down of power.

Second, John recognized Jesus as the Christ who had been for all time, and John’s entire ministry was setting up Jesus’ mission. In baseball there are middle-inning relief pitchers and I am sure they have pride in what they do, but I always think that when the manger calls in the closer for the ninth inning they have to be upset that they do not get to finish the game. Likewise, I always wonder how John remained humble and obedient to his calling. He recognized that he was the setup man whose baptizing might reveal who Jesus was to Israel.

Third, John did not know who Jesus was. This seems a bit strange, as Luke’s Gospel account specifically paints the picture that Jesus and John were cousins. To me it is unclear why John’s account of the Gospel mentions two times that the Baptizer did not know Jesus. Knowing here though could be something other than simply being acquainted with someone else. Perhaps John could not conceive of this almost incomprehensible concept of God coming to dwell as a human being. He could not know this in the same way that we still struggle to wrap our minds around the Incarnation.

Fourth, in John’s telling of this story the Spirit not only descended upon Jesus, but it remained there. Humans often express rare moments when they perceive of the Spirit or something beyond them resting upon them; however, these are brief and illusive moments even for the saints among us. For the person of Jesus though, the Spirit rested upon him eternally.

Finally, John testifies to Jesus being the Son of God. From our vantage point this seems like a trivial proclamation, but think about this belief in that day. In a world that proclaimed the Emperors as gods to believe that a lowly religious teacher from the backwaters of Galilee was a long-shot viewpoint. While we might not want to hear another account of Jesus’ Baptism what we discover as we look closer are some radical elements that challenge us to see Jesus as the Lamb of God, the Incarnate One, whom John came to foretell and who had the Spirit of God rest and remain on him, so that all might see him as the Son of God.

EUREKA

Audio of sermon can be found here: http://s3.amazonaws.com/dfc_attachments/public/documents/3201704/Olson_010715_Wed_Noon_Eureka.MP3

Have you ever had a “eureka moment”? You know what I am talking about, right? When something clicks into place for the first time. A time when something becomes clear that was not so clear just a moment ago. Where does it come from?

I got curious about the word itself. Eureka has become an English word, but originally it meant something a little different in the Greek. “I found it,” that’s what eureka means, and the great mathematician Archimedes gets credit for first saying it. Of course, the moment when he said it is more fascinating to me. Archimedes stepped into a bath tub when he realized that the water level rose as his body’s mass sunk beneath the surface, thus he discovered the law of water displacement. Only a mathematician would shout out loud, “I FOUND IT! EUREKA!” when discovering a law in the bathtub.

Have you ever had a eureka moment? A moment when something becomes apparent for the first time. Maybe it was when you first fell in love with your spouse. Perhaps it was that time when you first fell out of love with someone. A eureka moment could be when you happened upon your life’s great passion, or when you came to connect with God in a deeper way.

Yesterday in the Church we remembered a collective eureka moment, the day of Epiphany. Epiphany is another old word that means revelation or manifestation, and it is the time when we celebrate the Incarnate God in the person of Jesus being revealed as messiah to a people outside of his own tradition. This is our collective eureka moment. We most closely connect the Epiphany with the story of the Magi, three wise men from the East following a star, so that they could bestow gifts upon a child savior, but strangely enough today’s story is another Epiphany moment, another eureka!

A professor in seminary once wondered aloud about today’s gospel lesson. She said, “What does it say about John’s gospel account that the first of Jesus’ miracles that he writes down is turning water into wine at a wedding feast in Cana?” “Is he a drunk?” I thought. “Does John just really love wine? Maybe he’s a big proponent of preparing for wedding feasts?” Of course, what my professor was going for is that Our God is abundant and loves to celebrate with us. Hold onto those two revelations from this story for a moment because we need to explore what happens between Jesus and his mother to fully observe this epiphany.

The way that John records this story strikes me as peculiar, at least upon first reading. “There was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there.” John needs for us to know that Mary is there. Then he tells us that Jesus and his disciples were there. “When the wine gave out,” the story continues with a twist in the plot introducing us to some drama, Mary says, “They have no wine.” At this moment I am struck that Mary takes on someone else’s problem. This is not her son’s wedding. She could have left this problem alone, but instead she turns to Jesus.

Now, I am not opposed to taking our problems to Jesus, but I do not think that is the eureka moment. This is not what we are seeking to find. Jesus responds to his mother almost coldly, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” If I talked to my dearest darling mother in this way, I would get at least a death stare if not worse. Yet, what Jesus does here is fascinating. He does not urgently panic about what to do, nor does he immediately coddle his mother or the stewards or the bride and groom. His mother also does not get defensive about how Jesus speaks to her, instead she simply says, “Do whatever he tells you.”

Mary has faith in her son that he will do the will of God. Jesus though is not a magic eraser, he’s not Mr. Fix-it, nor is he some magician who waves a wand over the problems of the world. That is not why God became incarnate.

Jesus was a Jewish man, but for him to ask the servants to fill the jars of purification with water was a big no-no. In this moment he reveals a true miracle: Yes, it is turning water into wine! Yes, it is producing enough wine to open up a Galilean winery! Yes, it is helping the celebration of two people coming together in marriage to continue late into the night! Yet, it is even more than this. Jesus transforms the rite of purification into a moment of celebration. Jesus initiates his ministry with this first miracle not to solve a problem that is not really a problem, but to show that He is God and our God is a God of plenty and festivity.

This is the eureka moment! We have found God and Our God is not just here for purification, but for celebration. Our God is not just here for fixing problems, but for responding to even our small concerns with great richness. And our response to this Epiphany should be following mother Mary’s words, “Do whatever he tells you.” In this time of year when we recognize God’s manifestation as Savior of all people let us observe God’s abundance, celebration, and presence all around us and even within us.

John 7:37-52: Nicodemus, one of THEM?

“Nicodemus, who had gone to Jesus before, and who was one of THEM” (John 7:50). He was one of THEM! At least that is what it seems like on the surface. Nicodemus, a member of the Sanhedrin, the council of Pharisees, one of THEM, went to see Jesus before and now what? Well, if we dig a little bit and we look at the full picture that John gives us of Nicodemus, we find that he is NOT just one of THEM. Sure he is a member of the Sanhedrin, he is a Pharisee, he is part of the religious elite, but he is also a man willing to be vulnerable with Jesus, willing to stand up to his peers, willing to put his life on the line because of the Word of God.

When Nicodemus went to see Jesus before it was back toward the beginning of John’s gospel account. “He came to Jesus by night and said to him, ‘Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God: for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Jesus responds telling him that to be part of the Kingdom of God he must be born from above. Nicodemus doubts this teaching thinking of the literal definition of birth. Jesus attempts to expand Nicodemus’ understanding, as he explains one must be born of water and Spirit, referring to baptism, repentance of sins, and spiritual transformation. Nicodemus still does not get it.

Jesus, now seemingly frustrated with Nicodemus, wonders how a religious teacher cannot understand. If Jesus tells Nicodemus about earthly wisdom and he does not comprehend, how will he possibly grasp the heavenly wisdom that Jesus offers? Yet, Jesus continues this dark dialogue, as he says, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that he world might be saved through him” (John 3:16-17). Nicodemus, a confused religious teacher shrouded in darkness, seeks wisdom from Jesus, the one true light, and even though he cannot possibly understand all that he is being told, this Pharisee is the one whom Jesus chooses to tell what many would consider the thesis of the gospel: God loves us so much that God sends his son, so that we may have everlasting life.
We do not hear about Nicodemus leaving that night. Still I can see him walking away shaking his head in perplexity. What stuck with him? Did something change in him? Was he still in darkness? Our passage from today sheds some light on what might have transformed within Nicodemus.

Jesus went up to Jerusalem to the Festival of Booths (Sukkot). This Jewish holy day is only five days after Yom Kippur, which is a very solemn affair. During the Festival of Booths Jewish people remember that their ancestors spent time in the wilderness. They do this by erecting booths, much like the temporary dwelling places Moses and others dwelt in while journeying in the desert. It is a festival when those celebrating would have been quite thankful for water. Then Jesus, chooses to reach to another level of thirst, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me, and let the one who believes in me drink.” This causes an uproar within the crowd.

Some believe, some question, and some (the Pharisees, the THEM) want to arrest him. The Pharisees are disgusted by accounts of what is happening at THEIR festival. THEY want to persecute Jesus. THEY cannot believe others would believe in him. THEY wonder, “Do any of US believe in HIM?” Then, all of a sudden it happens. Whatever Jesus had said on that dark night, whatever seed he had planted, whatever living water he had given, whatever word he had spoken to Nicodemus comes alive within this Pharisee, one of THEM.

Nicodemus risks his status by saying, “Our law does not judge people without first giving them a hearing to find out what they are doing, does it?” What? Is HE one of THEM? The Pharisees wonder is Nicodemus from Galilee? Is he not one of US? Is HE with HIM? Nicodemus has the courage to stand up to his peers. He is ridiculed, but he will go one step further in his last appearance in John’s Gospel.

After Jesus is crucified, Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, help to give Jesus a proper burial. Nicodemus risks much more than he did in standing up to the Sanhedrin, he risks his life just to bring myrrh to anoint Christ, the Anointed. We may wonder why he does this, why does he risk his life after Jesus has died? We may never really know on this side of the grave. Yet, I believe it is because Nicodemus at his most vulnerable had one conversation with Jesus, he turned to the Word of God, and he believed in the Christ.

We experience dark nights of the soul. We may wonder how it is that we are to respond. What are we to do? We have an example who can help guide us in our darkness. We can walk with Nicodemus to Jesus during our spiritual midnights. We may not understand exactly what the Word of God speaks to us on that night, but believing in Christ will transform us, will give us courage, and will strengthen us to face even the toughest moments. He is not just one of them he is an example of how to turn to Jesus in our darkness. Amen.