Mary as an Archetype of the Deaconate

Posted by Priest on January 24, 2010 under Sermons |

Last Friday night, a group of parishioners met at my place to discuss ordained diaconal ministry. It was quite a wonderful evening as we listened and learned from each other and from some outside resources about the place of the order of deacons in the life of the church.

There are four orders in the church: the laity, bishops, priests, and deacons. Deacons are the oldest ordained order in the church. They first appear in the Acts of the Apostles, which is the record of the church’s history between the ascension of Christ and the death of the Apostles.

Ever since their inception, deacons have been charged with servanthood ministry, as they assist the marginalised, embrace the disenfranchised, become advocates for the voiceless, provide for those who cannot care for themselves, and, as in the words of our Book of Alternative Services, they reach out and serve “particularly the poor, the weak, the sick, and the lonely.”¹

But this is not just mere charity. Outreach and social justice are central Gospel-ministries, en par with any other ministry of the church. This is why deacons have another role to play in the life of the church. Not only do they reach out to the world, but they reach inside to the community of the faithful to remind the church that what deacons do is not just an appendix, but it is integral to the identity of the church. Even when some in the church do not want to heed their prophetic voice, deacons are a living remembrance that in serving the poor we serve Christ himself and that the church indeed is called to stand with those who have no-one else to stand with.

Deacons are a nagging conscience to do the work God has given us to do, even when this work seems hard or dirty or unpopular or uncomfortable. Yes, the deacons’ job is to bring the church in her ministry not only to comfort the afflicted but also to afflict the comfortable. And sometimes what the deacons have to tell the church isn’t easy for the church’s members to hear. One Anglican bishop once described deacons as a “pebble” in the shoes of the church, a constant reminder that God calls us not to comfort and rest, but to work and minister with all God’s people and for all God’s people. In more concrete ways, deacons are to identify the needs of the world to the church and then lead the church in ministering to those specific needs.

In this understanding of ministry, we can look at Mary in today’s account from the Gospel according to John as an archetype of the deaconate. Mary sees and identifies the need and brings about what is needed to avert the crisis. And, let me tell you, the need Mary identifies isn’t just the need to have more to drink!

Weddings in first century Palestine were quite the affair. The whole village was mobilized. For the family throwing the party, it was a way to show off. The more people participated, the better they were regarded. Honour was at stake.

In Mary’s times, extended family members and friends were expected to assist with the wedding and lend a helping hand where needed. And again, the more friends who showed up and the more of these friends who helped, the more the hosts were valued.

When the wine runs out in today’s story, it is therefore a double-whammy. Not only does it threaten the honour of the bridegroom’s family because they didn’t provide enough. It is also a blow to their status, because their friends obviously either aren’t good enough or don’t care enough to be able to provide and help. And of course, the honour of their friends is at stake too.

This is why Mary steps in. She approaches Jesus to inform him of the problem. Mary becomes a pebble in Jesus’ shoe, dragging him out of the joy of the party to deal with the needs of the family of the bridegroom. And Jesus doesn’t seem so pleased at first sight. Who would be? Having a pebble in your shoe isn’t so great. Being reminded to do work and to help those in need in the midst of grandiose festivities isn’t either. “My hour hasn’t come,” Jesus says looking to the future. He stays preoccupied with less practical things, turning to matters of mind and spirit and soul. Something many in the church do oh-so-well when a need arises! How often have we heard faithful Christians maintain that the church should stay out of politics and stick to spiritual matters…!

But Jesus wouldn’t be God’s son and Mary’s son if the story would end here. Even though he addresses his mother with “woman” he does not push her away. For our ears, this might be an odd and dismissive way to talk to our mothers, but not so in first century Cana. Jesus will once more address his mother with “woman” in John’s Gospel: When he is nailed to a cross, when he is helpless and robbed of his humanity, when he needs her help. “Woman,” therefore, is a term of endearment. Jesus hears Mary and, more importantly, takes up what Mary has laid out in front of him.

And Mary follows Jesus’ lead. She recognizes that there is more to Jesus’ words than meets the eye, and so she instructs the servants to follow Jesus’ advice and to do exactly as he commands. This is how wondrous things can happen: Water is changed to wine, the ordinary becomes extraordinary.

In the end, Jesus really doesn’t leave the realm of mind, spirit and soul. He just extends the realm of the spiritual to include the practical. Mary lays the world’s needs at the feet of her son and Jesus takes them up and breaks through the divide we have created between spiritual and profane. Good wine fills the jars that are used for one of the most common Jewish practices.

And there is more: Today’s story isn’t just about the physical manifestation of wine either. Wine, in Mediterranean spirituality was often used as a representation of the abundance of God’s love for us. We might in our day and age struggle with this image as we have discovered the wicked effects of alcoholism – and rightly so. But in days past, “wine” spoke symbolically of God’s flavourful, rich, deep, profound, and abundant embrace of life, of each and every one of us. Wine symbolised the amazing and awesome beauty of God’s gifts for us all. The complexity of the taste of wine was seen as a reminder that God’s love for us is not just like a zip of tasteless water. But just like wine affects our senses, so does God’s embrace penetrate our bodies, minds, and souls. The abundance of God’s love is too deep, too beautiful, too wonderful to be put in mere words.

Those, who recognize God’s splendour, those who let themselves be fully taken into God’s healing and God’s salvation, those who do not hold back, but give themselves with all that they are and all they have to God, those who answer God’s abundant reaching out to us by giving themselves without limit: They are drunk with life and drunk with love. They have tasted the goodness of God, and God has turned the water in the jars of their hearts to wine. God has changed them from something ordinary to something quite extraordinary.

When the water at Cana turned into wine, Jesus did not reveal himself as a first century miracle worker. No, something much more profound was happening: Jesus revealed the abundance of God made flesh in him. And Jesus revealed God’s will that beckons us to live out of that abundance – even in times of need, even in times of horror.

It is still hard to stomach the pictures that come out of Haiti.

Just last week, I found myself in tears as I watched a report on the CBC about a woman searching desperately for her sisters, only to find them dead, buried under the rubble of her parents’ home. Cameras were rolling as she stood in agony. And it is heartbreaking. It is a deep shadow thrown on our minds and souls. Yet, Mary lays it all at our feet. “They have no wine,” she says. They have no hope, no life, no help. The situation in Haiti is pressing on us like a pebble in our shoes. Jesus has filled the jars of our hearts with wine, with the abundance of God’s love. And God’s love cannot remain there. God’s love waits to be shared with those in need.

We here in Canada have been blessed with an abundance of gifts, gifts that wait to be shared: Today you will hear of a project organised by a parishioner, who herself has lost family in the earthquake. Earlier this week another parishioner organised a container filled with goods needed by the people of Haiti. Both these acts of generosity are a sign that water has been turned to wine and that the wine is flowing from our parish.

But more can be done! Pray for those who suffer. Donate, if you can. And advocate for a just world. Haiti needs us, even when the relief-convoys have ended. Haiti needs debt-relief and a development that bursts the bonds of economic dependency.

In serving the poor, we are serving Christ Jesus himself. In standing with those in need we claim for ourselves and we proclaim to the world, that we, like the disciples, believe in Jesus, too.

1 The Book of Alternative Services, p. 655

[The Reverend Markus Duenzkofer delivered this sermon on January 24, 2010.]