Text: John 2:1-11 (Revised Standard Version)
The Wedding at Cana
2 On the third day there was a marriage at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there; 2 Jesus also was invited to the marriage, with his disciples. 3 When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” 4 And Jesus said to her, “O woman, what have you to do with me? My hour has not yet come.” 5 His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” 6 Now six stone jars were standing there, for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. 7 Jesus said to them, “Fill the jars with water.” And they filled them up to the brim. 8 He said to them, “Now draw some out, and take it to the steward of the feast.” So they took it. 9 When the steward of the feast tasted the water now become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward of the feast called the bridegroom 10 and said to him, “Every man serves the good wine first; and when men have drunk freely, then the poor wine; but you have kept the good wine until now.” 11 This, the first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested his glory; and his disciples believed in him.
In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
What are we to make of this passage?
On the face of it, it obviously describes a wedding. Jesus and Mary, his mother, are clearly guests. So far, so good; but then we encounter the part where Mary comes to Jesus and reports that the wine has run out, with the clear expectation that he was supposed to do something about it. And Jesus tells her that his “hour has not yet come.” Kind of beside the point, it would seem.
But there is an ancient tradition that says that the wedding was that of John – the one we have come to know as John the Baptist. And, since Mary and John’s mother, Elizabeth, were cousins, that meant that it was a family wedding. Given that, it’s a little more understandable why Mary should be concerned about the wine supply and ask Jesus to take care of it. Maybe it was his job to make sure things ran smoothly.
Then there’s the way in which Jesus addresses his mother when she comes to him: “O woman, what have you to do with me?” It sounds almost rude. But, in fact, it was anything but. William Barclay tells us that “it is the same word that Jesus used on the cross to address Mary as he left her to the care of John (John 19:26). In Homer, it is the title by which Odysseus addresses Penelope, his well-loved wife. It is the title by which Augustus, the Roman emperor, addressed Cleopatra, the famous Egyptian queen. So far from being a rough and discourteous way of address, it is a title of respect.” [1]
To which I say, “well and good; but what exactly are we to take from this?” As interesting as this tradition is, it’s not really the point. What is?
I think that it’s about abundance, specifically God’s abundance, and grace. Like last week’s lesson, which I think was about reconciliation, even though that word didn’t even appear in the text, these concepts are behind the scenes of this passage.
First, abundance. The wine had run out. To us, that would have been an annoyance, not much more. We’d send someone out to the nearest liquor store to buy a case or two and bring them back. Problem solved.
But back then, it was not so simple. As David Lose tells us, “In this time and place, running out of wine too early isn’t just a social faux pas, it’s a disaster. Wine isn’t merely a social lubricant, you see, it’s a sign of the harvest, of God’s abundance, of joy and gladness and hospitality. And so when they run short on wine they run short on blessing. And that’s a tragedy.
“Which is when Jesus, prompted by his mother, steps in and provides not just more wine, but more wine than the whole crowd could have drunk not only during the three days of the wedding feast, but probably across three weeks. In changing the water of those six large basins of water for purification, you see, Jesus is providing close to an additional thousand bottles of additional wine. And not only that, but as the surprised steward discovered, it’s not just a cheap bottle of Chianti, but the best wine yet served.
“And that, according to John, is what grace is like: an overflowing of joy, blessing, and the presence of God.”[2]
Lack of wine was the same as lack of God’s abundance. It was even a sign that God had withdrawn His favor. It sounds absurd to us now, but it was a deadly serious thing in Jesus’ day.
So, wine is a metaphor for abundance. And Jesus’ steps in and provides more wine, and better wine, than was needed or even desired. When God gives from His abundance, He does it exuberantly, extravagantly, and totally. He doesn’t do it half-way, He’s all in. God’s abundance is always over the top, mind-boggling, earth-changing, and life-changing.
As we’ve heard before, “you can’t outgive God.”
This passage, then, is really not about the miracle of turning water into wine. The real miracle here is the miracle of God’s presence in the person of Jesus, God’s abundance, and God’s grace.
In John’s Gospel, that word – grace – is found only four times, and all of the instances are in the prologue. This might not seem significant, unless we consider that perhaps John doesn’t need to talk about grace in the remainder of his Gospel, because Jesus shows what grace is – in his words, his deeds, and in the miracles – the “signs” – that he performs, in much the same way that we don’t need to describe what a star athlete is doing while we’re watching him or her play. We don’t need to talk about it – we can see it with our own eyes.
“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth.” If we take the Incarnation seriously, then, we recognize that the rest of the Gospel shows us what grace looks like, feels like, and tastes like.
Grace is the taste of the best wine, the finest coffee, or even the purest water you’ve ever had. Or grace is, as the author Philip Yancy describes, the experience of walking – 58 minutes late – up to the desk of a Hertz Rental agency to return your rental car, fully expecting to pay a late charge, and being told, “No, you’re covered – we have a one-hour grace period.” Or, as Michael Bronson writes, “’Grace’ means that God doesn’t always give us what we so richly deserve.” He illustrates this with this story:
The boy stands defiantly with his head cocked back and hands clenched. “Go ahead. Give it to me; I can take it.”
The principal looks down at the young rebel. “How many times have you been here?”
The child sneers rebelliously, “Apparently, not enough.”
The principal gives the boy a strange look and says, “You have been punished each time, have you not?”
“Yeah, I’ve been punished; if that’s what you want to call it.” He throws out his small chest and says, “Go ahead, I can take whatever you can dish out; I always have.”
Carefully studying the boy’s face, the principal says, “Are there any thoughts of punishment when you break these rules?”
“Nope; I do whatever I want. Ain’t nothing you people gonna do to stop me neither.”
The principal looks over at the teacher who is sitting nearby and asks, “What did he do this time?”
“Fighting. He took little Tommy and shoved his face into the sandbox.”
The principal turns to look at the boy and asks, “Why? What did little Tommy do to you?”
“Nothin’, I didn’t like the way he was lookin at me; just like I don’t like the way you’re lookin at me now! In fact, if I thought I could do it, I’d shove your face into something.”
The teacher stiffens and starts to rise, but a quick look from the principal stops him. He contemplates the child for a moment and then quietly says, “Today, my young student, is the day you will learn about grace.”
“Grace? Isn’t that what you old people do before you eat a meal? I don’t need any of your stinkin’ grace.”
“Oh, but you do,” says the principal. After studying the boy’s face he whispers, “Oh yes, you truly do need grace.” The boy glared as the principal continued. “Grace, in its short definition, is unmerited favor. You can’t earn grace, my child. Grace is a gift and it’s always freely given. Grace means you will not be getting what you so richly deserve.”
The boy looks puzzled. “You’re not gonna whup me? You just gonna let me walk?”
The principal looks down at the unyielding child and says, “Yes, I am going to let you walk.”
The boy studies the face of the principal and says, “No punishment at all? You’re not going to punish me even though I socked Tommy and shoved his face into the sandbox?”
“Oh, there has to be punishment. What you did was wrong and there will always be consequences for our actions. There will be punishment. Grace is not an excuse for doing wrong.”
“I knew it,” sneers the boy. Holding out his hands he says, “Let’s get on with it.”
The principal nods toward the teacher and says, “Bring me the belt.” The teacher presents the belt to the principal. He carefully folds it in two and hands it back to the teacher. He looks at the child and says, “I want you to count the blows.” The principal slides out from behind his desk and walks over to the child.
The child stands defiantly with his hands outstretched. The principal gently moves the child’s expectant hands down to his sides. Turning to the teacher, the principal stretches out his own hands and quietly says, “Begin.”
The belt slaps against the principal’s outstretched hands. Crack! The young boy jumps. Shock registers across his face, “One” he whispers. Crack! “Two.” His voice raises an octave. Crack! “Three.” He is unable to believe this. Crack! “Four.” Big tears well up in the eyes of the young rebel. “Okay, stop! That’s enough. Stop!” Crack! The belt continues to come down on the principal’s swollen hands. Crack! The child flinches with each blow. Tears start streaming down the child’s face. Crack! Crack! “No, please,” the former rebel begs. “Stop. I’m the one who did it. I’m the one who deserves the punishment. Stop! Please stop,” the boy sobs. Still the blows come. Crack! Crack!
Finally it is over. The principal, with sweat glistening across his forehead, turns to the former rebel and kneels down. Carefully cradling the child’s face with his swollen hands, the principal softly says, “This, my boy, is grace.”[3]
Grace is not just a word. It is not just a short prayer we say before meals. It’s not even just the name of people we know. It is a real thing, a lasting thing, a wonderful thing.
Grace is not just God providing something we lack, but also God providing more than we can ever imagine, and far more than we deserve.
Abundance. Grace. Abundant grace – we live in that, like fish live in water. And if we truly take this awesome gift to heart, how can we not live lives of thankfulness? How can we not respond?
Friends, as we continue our journey through this new year, let us allow that abundant grace of God to expunge the fears that make us timid, and instead be bold to show, like Jesus, that abundant grace to the world!
In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
[1] Barclay, William, The Gospel of John, Volume 1, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, Kentucky, 2001, p. 115
[2] Lose, David, “…in the Meantime,” “Epiphany 2 B: What Grace Looks Like,” http://www.davidlose.net/2016/01/epiphany-2-b-what-grace-looks-like/
[3] http://www.biblehelp.org/grace.htm