12/19/20
(Isaiah 49:1-7; Ps. 40:1-12; 1 Corinthians 1:1-9; John 1:29-42)
In each season of our church caleendar we give our attention to particular things which we Christians say are the truth. In the season of Epiphany, it’s the truth that the Spirit of God shows up in our lives in ways that we experience: that we see, that we hear, alive and at work in this world that we live in. That’s the definition of an epiphany, and it’s a very broad definition, because God can and does show up anywhere. The classic examples from the New Testament that our lectionary gives us in this season are: the star which guided the wise men to the infant Jesus, in Bethlehem; and the dove, the form in which the Spirit of God descends on Jesus at his baptism by John, in the Jordan River.
But in our lives, epiphanies are usually a little less dramatic than that. Something that our bishops like to do at the conclusion of diocesan gatherings, as a way of wrapping up, is ask people to say where they might have seen the presence of God that day. I love this exercise, for one thing because the more you look for them, the more you find them. As I said last week, there are epiphanies – appearances of the Spirit of God – around us all the time; but we miss most of them because they occur in ways we don’t expect, in places we’re sure God couldn’t possibly be.
Well, today I’m going to talk briefly about two of what I consider to be epiphanies – showings of the Spirit of God – one from an avowedly Christian source, and one that happened in an at least outwardly secular context; and then I’m going to try to relate them to our lives by means of something in today’s gospel story.
The first of the two is in the work, and the story, of something called L’Arche. L’Arche is an organization (you could also call it a movement) which was founded in 1964, in France, by a man named Jean Vanier. Through his friendship with a Roman Catholic priest, Vanier had become aware of the situation of the thousands of people who had been “institutionalized” because of intellectual and learning disabilities of one kind or another (like Down syndrome.) These were the people we used to call “retarded”, a term whose catchall nature directly reflected the lack of care and attention society gave people with such conditions, lack of care and attention which produced the inhumane circumstances they had to live in, at the institutions to which they were sent, usually soon after their birth, usually for the rest of their lives; just parked there and forgotten.
Having seen this, Vanier – a faithful Christian – felt led by God to invite two such men to leave the institution they inhabited and come to live with him: live together, work together, eat together, pray together; live together as children of God. He named that home “L’Arche”, which in French means “The Ark”, as in Noah’s Ark: a place for the preservation and sustenance of life. Over time, people saw the new life that was happening at L’Arche, word spread, other L’Arche communities started to appear. As their website puts it, “No longer were people with disabilities seen as something shameful that needed to be quarantined, but as full human beings inherently deserving of respect.” And over the last 50-plus years, L’Arche has grown into an international organization, operating over 150 communities in 38 countries, on five continents.
This is wonderful, of course, and surely a manifestation of the presence of God. But for me, the true epiphany is witnessed by countless stories from the so-called “abled” people in these communities, that it is the so-called “disabled” folks who breathe the Spirit of God into their lives, who open to them, the “caregivers”, a new dimension of the love of God, real, alive and active, in their world.
The second epiphany that occurs to me – the one in an apparently secular context – happened almost 80 years ago, and involved two great figures from the performing arts – the world of dance. One was the legendary Martha Graham, the great dancer and teacher who developed the technique that’s the basis of modern dance. The other was Agnes de Mille, a dancer who eventually became one of Broadway’s most successful choreographers. But she had just begun that part of her career when, in 1943, she was offered a job choreographing a new musical, which was called “Oklahoma”. Instantly a huge hit, rave reviews, and de Mille was suddenly the new star in the world of choreography. But she felt in her heart that her work in “Oklahoma” had not been that great – she thought, fair at best – and all the acclaim she was getting only increased the despair she felt, that she would ever be any good as a choreographer.
So she called up Martha Graham, whom she knew (the world of dance is a small one), and they went to a little lunch counter and over a soda, as de Mille put it, “I confessed to her that I had a burning desire to be excellent, but no faith that I could be.” (This feeling is of course common to people in any human pursuit.) And this is what Martha Graham said to her, in response:
“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open….Keep the channel open….No artist is pleased. [There is] no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest, that keeps us marching and makes us more alive….”
Now, as I said, this happened in a secular context. And that’s one reason why, to me, it’s an epiphany: the Spirit of God showing up in a way we don’t expect, in a place we don’t think God could possibly be. Because it’s clear to me, as I hope it is to you, that what Martha Graham was talking about is what we Christians call the Holy Spirit: the Spirit of God that is alive and at work uniquely in each of us: the Spirit for whom it is our call to keep the channel open.
And here’s how this all relates to today’s story from the gospel of John, which tells of the first things Jesus says to the first people who would become his disciples.
John the Baptist had disciples; he is with two of them, Jesus walks by, and John says, There goes the Lamb of God. So these disciples walk after Jesus; he turns back to them and says, What are you looking for? They seem a little stunned (how would you react if the Lamb of God spoke to you?), and all they can think of to say at that point is, Where are you staying? Which basically tells Jesus, they want to take the next step – whatever that is. But he doesn’t actually tell them where he’s staying. What he says is, Come and see.
“What are you looking for?”; and, “Come and see.” In these first words to his first disciples, Jesus doesn’t say anything about what he has to teach them (and we know he’s got a lot to teach them.) What he says is, It’s your move. He calls first to the Spirit of God which he knows is alive uniquely in each of them. He knows that Spirit wants to draw them closer to God, and knows that Spirit’s going to find its own way.
In Martha Graham’s terminology, he’s telling them to keep the channel open. Because Jesus knows it’s God that does the work. It’s our work to keep the channel open: one little step at a time. Jean Vanier said, “We are not called by God to do extraordinary things, but to do ordinary things with extraordinary love.” That’s the Spirit of God at work in our world. It is our Lord Jesus Christ who shows us this. It is Jesus who is the true epiphany – the light shining out of darkness – for these disciples, as he is for us. God grant that we always know to keep that channel open. Thanks be to God.