“Justice with Joy”
John 2:1-11
Excerpt from “Paul’s Letter to American Christians,” a sermon preached by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in November 1956
Philippians 3:12-16, adapted
On this eve of both Martin Luther King Jr. Day and Inauguration Day, there are any number of things we could focus on.
It would be natural, for example, to look back at the courageous, prophetic and impactful life of Dr. King and try to apply some of his wisdom and tactics to the circumstances our nation faces now. And it might be instructive—as well as depressing—to note the many things in our country that are moving in the opposite direction from what Dr. King and other civil rights pioneers devoted their lives to. We could cite statistics and issue any number of strongly worded warnings about even worse things that will happen if the new administration gets its way.
Or . . .
We could, as Dr. King—paraphrasing the apostle Paul—suggested almost 70 years ago, focus on the forward-looking, paradigm-shifting, boundary-busting, people-centering ways of Jesus.
“Now unto him who is able to keep us from falling, and lift us from the dark valley of despair to the bright mountain of hope, from the midnight of desperation to the daybreak of joy, to him be power and authority, for ever and ever.”
Which is to say: We could get stuck in the outrage cycle of our nation’s politics—reacting with anger and offense to every outrageous appointment, dangerous executive order, and unethical action. We could focus on circling the wagons and working tirelessly to protect the vulnerable from every threatening policy.
Or . . .
We could keep our eyes on the prize of justice, peace, equality, healing, restoration, and the building of beloved community.
I am, of course, creating a false binary—but only to make a point. In truth, the choices before us are less either-or than both-and.
And . . .
I also believe that adopting a purely defensive position will not move us forward. We can’t focus only on defeating all that is unjust and evil; we must also be working with conviction, purpose, solidarity, love, and joy toward a clear vision of the future. We have to be at least as clear about what we’re working for as we are about what we’re working against.
And . . .
We have to take care of one another along the way.
And . . .
We have to make room for joy.
Now, I realize I have just made some fairly strong statements that any one of us—including me—could quibble with. But I’m not trying to build a case. I want to jolt us—at least temporarily—out of our well-intentioned and dead-serious fixation on all the awful things that are about to happen. I want to help us consider what it means to be a Jesus follower in these times and what it is we’re working for.
And before I continue, I feel a need to be clear:
I know I am preaching to the choir, and I know that this choir doesn’t need to be convinced that loving our neighbors by working for justice is central to what it means to follow the ways of Jesus. So I will not spend much time reminding us of what we already known believe about that.
As the apostle Paul wrote in another letter, “I thank God for all of you whenever I pray, constantly remembering before God your works of faith and your labors of love and your steadfastness of hope.”
So please hear me when I say (again): I don’t for a minute want to diminish our commitments to justice and peace, reconciliation, restoration, and healing. I don’t for a minute want to downplay the gut-wrenching fear and anguish many of us are feeling as an administration that promises to immigrants, women, trans folks, and the environment comes into power.
We will need courage for these days, and I hope and pray that, more than ever, we will commit ourselves to lifting up, listening to, and loving everyone—including the people who voted for the people whose policies now threaten us and so much that we care about.
I hope we will remember that, when Jesus faced execution, he took time to have supper with his friends—and his betrayer.
I hope we will remember that, in the bleakest moments of the Civil Rights Movement, when Dr. King faced hateful opposition not only from white supremacists but also from Black activists who disagreed with his nonviolent tactics, he was very clear about the path he was on.
“I have decided to love,” he said.
I hope we will learn how to pursue justice with a lightness of heart, how to lift up the downtrodden with love and joy, and how to have fun as we’re making peace and building community.
Which brings us to . . . the wedding at Cana.
Now if you’re at all familiar with this story, you may know it as the one where Jesus turns water into wine or, more significantly, where he performs the first so-called “sign” revealing who he was and what his mission was.
Today I would like to reframe it as the stage-setting scene where Jesus’ mother, Mary, pulls him out of his head and helps him to see that his mission is not only about the big, serious idea of the reign of God but also about the little, joyful moments give people dignity and help them keep going. It is a story that invites us to see that God’s realm is not only about justice but also about joy, that God promises us not only peace but also abundance.
And it took some doing.
You see, Jesus had been recently baptized, and I’m imagining that, like most new converts to anything, he was filled with passion and had lots of ideas about the great things he would do for God. But then he went on a long retreat, where he fasted and prayed and was sorely tempted to abandon God’s way for the path of wealth and power. By the time he returned from the wilderness and called his first disciples, I’m guessing his sense of mission weighed heavy on him. He may have even felt overwhelmed with all he had to do and all the obstacles in his way.
And here he was at a wedding, of all places. Didn’t his mother know he had important things to do?
But Mary, thank God, knew at least as much as Jesus about what was important.
In ancient Israel, a wedding was a huge event—not only in the life of the couple but also for their families and their entire community. A wedding reception often lasted an entire week, and in an honor culture where perhaps nothing was more important to establishing one’s honor than providing hospitality, providing plenty of wine was an essential element of hospitality. Wine was also a symbol of restoration.
But at this wedding the wine had run out. Nothing less than the family’s honor was at stake.
And yet when his mother called this to Jesus’ attention, he couldn’t be bothered. His mind was probably on what he considered to be serious things, big things. He had a mission to fulfill, and doing party tricks was not on his bingo card.
But Mary knew better, and by speaking to the servants, she kicked off Jesus’ ministry in a most meaningful, joyful way. And once Jesus set his mind to it, he, too, seemed to recognize an important opportunity.
Because it wasn’t just any water that Jesus turned into wine, but the water that was set aside for the all-important Jewish rites of purification. By turning that water into wine, Jesus was not only saving the wedding hosts from deep shame but also demonstrating that in God’s realm, joy and abundance are more important than religious purity. In God’s realm, serving others by meeting a time-sensitive, specific, seemingly small need is sometimes an important step on the road to empowerment, justice, and equality.
Hundreds of years earlier, the prophet Amos had spoken of a time when the exiled children of Israel would rebuild cities, plant vineyards, and drink wine made from their own grapes. The prophet Isaiah had encouraged God’s people to eat rich food and drink wine, telling them God would send them out in joy and bring them back in peace.
Jesus was forever being judged by the religious leaders for partying with sinners, and Dr. King’s enemies tried to discredit him for having a life.
But Jesus and Dr. King refused to live in reaction to the unjust power of empire. They chose, instead, to live for the love of God. They refused to be constrained by religious ideas of what was proper and pure, and chose instead to dedicate themselves to pursuing justice with joy. They kept their eyes on the prize—always.
May we do the same, now and always. May we discover that living in love creates a strong community that is able to resist evil. May we learn that keeping our eyes on the prize allows love to cast out fear. May we trust that our joy is as important as our service, and that service produces joy. May we realize that we do great things when we do small things with love, joy, and purpose.
May we decide and re-decide, day after day after day, to love everyone.
