Keeps Your Eyes Peeled for Miracles

Dear Friends,

This Sunday we will hear the great Epiphany story of Jesus turning water into wine at a wedding in Cana of Galilee in order to keep the party going. This is one of my favorite miracle stories in the gospels, not only because Jesus was egged on by his mother to save a family from the embarrassment of running out of wine, but because I’m able to preside at so many weddings myself – which is among the greatest joys of my ministry at St. John’s.

But this story is also one of the great Epiphany stories of the church, because it reveals something very important about Jesus’ identity and the plenitude and abundance that will mark his ministry. Again and again, we witness Jesus’ persistence in entering places of lack - lack of health, of justice, of wisdom, of wholeness - and offering abundance in its place.

But here’s the thing. As miraculous as Jesus’ provision is, and as hopeful as I find it, I wonder if he was up to something more here than just supplying what was lacking. In my years of preparing couples for their weddings, one of the first things we recognize is that the sacrament of marriage doesn’t provide something that was missing or incomplete. Instead, it reveals and acknowledges that which is present already. This has been especially true during this time of pandemic, when wedding ceremonies have been postponed and rescheduled multiple times, causing couples to recognize and nurture the wondrous blessing of the “marriage” they already have.

And perhaps this is something of what Jesus was up to at the Wedding at Cana: by turning water into wine, Jesus was not only providing a needed plenitude but also recognizing the miracle already present when two people enter into a covenant with one another, with all the challenges and the blessings it will bring.

Relational miracles aren’t reserved just for couples who have covenanted to make a life together, of course. In friendships, in families, in communities, in all the places where we honor the threads of connection and commit to engage the struggles and joys that come with them, the presence of wonder lies in wait for us to notice. When we do notice, when we see the plenitude present in our connections, it comes as a reminder of what we celebrate in this season of Epiphany: the life and love of God-with-us, who, in the person of Jesus, entered fully into the messy miracle of our shared life.

So, in the midst of your relationships, in the web of your connections, how are you keeping your eyes open for signs and wonders these days? What sustains you when the signs are hard to see? As you pray or yearn or ache for needed miracles in your life or in the life of another, are there marvels that God is already up to? Might the miracle be coming in a different form than you expect, and can you let yourself see it? How might God be inviting you to participate in the working out of a wonder in the life of another?

In this Season of Epiphany, I invite you to perceive the wonders at hand, to be part of the miracles yet to come, and encounter unexpected delights along the way.

In Christ,

Amelie+