Epiphany 2, 2025
Isaiah 62:1-5
Psalm 36:5-10
1 Corinthians 12:1-11
John 2:1-11
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
So, as you know, we have four Gospel books in our Bible. They are Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. The first three (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) are called the Synoptic Gospels, because they sort of line up in details, chronology, emphasis, and language. (Syn-optic, like “same view.”) You can find Jesus calming the stormy sea in all three synoptic gospels, but not in John. You find the raising of Lazarus in John, but not in the synoptics.
John’s gospel is big on symbolism and metaphor, sometimes changing the order of events—like the Last Supper—for full symbolic impact. Whereas Matthew and Luke tell us about the birth of Jesus, and Mark starts at the Baptism of Jesus, John starts before the beginning of the world, saying in the beginning was the Word, and the light shines in the darkness. You can think of the synoptics as being like biographies of Jesus, and John being like a long-form poem about the meaning of Jesus’ life. Point being, John’s gospel is packed with symbolism and metaphor, so it is quite different from the others.
Today, we heard from John the story that we commonly call “The Wedding at Cana.” And as soon as you hear that title, you probably think, “Oh yeah. That time Jesus turned water into wine. Got it.” And then start thinking about something else. This is always the downside of Bible stories being familiar to us. Or any stories, for that matter. We’ve heard it before, we know the main point, let’s move on. And, whenever we do that, we miss the opportunity to hear God speak something new to us in the text. It’s important for us to remember that the Bible is a living text, and no story can ever be fully understood. Especially no story from John!
So, let’s look closer at what we actually heard today, keeping in mind how different John’s gospel is. Our story opens with “on the third day.” The third day from what? We don’t know. John doesn’t say. How weird is that? “And the mother of Jesus was there.” This is the first time that the mother of Jesus is mentioned in John. And—get this—John never tells us her name. Not in all of his writing does he call her Mary. If it weren’t for the synoptic gospels, we would not even know Mary’s name. And yet, at the foot of the cross, Jesus tells John to behold his mother, and his mother to behold her son. So it’s not like Mary isn’t important to John.
Anyway, then we get to the section where Jesus and his mother are talking. Because of the liberties in translation that people have taken over the years, we tend to see this as Mary saying, “Do something!” and then telling the servants to do whatever Jesus tells them. But the language is a lot more vague than that. And there are missing verbs and stuff. It’s more like Mary actually says, “They have no wine,” and Jesus says, “What to me and to you, woman.” And—lest you worry—calling his mother “woman” is not insulting, as we’re apt to take it. It sounds rude, but it is not. You know, different culture, different language. More concerning is that there is no verb in the sentence, “What to me and to you.”
And then we get Mary saying, "Do whatever he tells you,” which sounds very controlling, and suggests she knows what’s going to happen. But what she really says is, “That which he might say to you, do.” Which is more like saying, if he should happen to tell you to do something, go ahead and do it. And then we get to what you and I always think of as the miracle part of the story.
Jesus tells them to fill the ritual stone jars with water, draw some out, and take it to the banquet manager. When he tastes it, he is amazed that they saved the good wine for last. But look at how strange this is in the text. John never says, “And then by an amazing miracle, the water turned into wine!” Because that’s not the point of the story. Even though we think it is the point of the story, it is not. John adds the transformation into wine as just a little detail along the way. “When the steward tasted the water that had become wine . . .” which is like saying, "When the steward tasted the water that was in the cup . . .” The fact that it had become wine is not the point of the story.
We latch onto the transformation into wine because it looks like a magic trick, and we love magic tricks. But if you look at who knows what in the story, you can see it is not a magic trick, because no one is amazed by the transformation. The narrator provides the transformation as a little detail. The boss doesn’t know where the good wine came from, but credits the steward. The servants know where it came from, but they don’t know that it turned into wine. The guests know nothing about any of it. And that’s because turning water into wine is not the point of this story.
The point of the story of the wedding at Cana is that best wine was saved for last. The time when you would be expecting something mediocre, or worse, that is when Jesus gives us the best. God never offers just enough, or an adequate amount. The Psalms and the Prophets’ writings are filled with talk of feasts, and banquets, and ever-flowing streams. Glimpses of heaven, put into the language of the here and now. God’s magnanimous generous nature is always to give more than we can ever ask or imagine. A glimpse of the heavenly banquet and wedding feast, where the best is yet to come.
So, let’s talk about the stone jars. In Jewish ritual practice, any clay pottery that became defiled had to be smashed, never to be used again. However, Rabbis had decreed that vessels made from carved stone could not be defiled, and so they were used for ritual washing, among other things. At the wedding at Cana there were six of these jars, each holding 20 to 30 gallons of water. so, that’s somewhere between 120 and 180 gallons. Gallons. With a G. That’s a lot of wine! These jars are holding the best wine.
These stone jars are a crucial part of the story, but they don’t do anything. We think of these jars as a prop, just sitting there, empty and unimportant. But they are where the miracle takes place! And, as I’ve said, the miracle is not in the transformation of water into wine. No, the miracle of this story is that Jesus always gives us more than we can ever ask or imagine. The chief steward is not amazed that it was wine; he was amazed that it was the best wine.
And since John’s gospel is packed full of symbolism and metaphor, I’m going to take a cue from John and suggest this for us to ponder . . .
Those six stone jars are like our hearts, and maybe like our lives. Not something to be smashed and destroyed when defiled by sin, but definitely in need of refilling, refreshing, and renewing. There are times in all our lives when we think of ourselves like those jars: insignificant, empty and unimportant. And in those times, we should remember God’s unending regard for the least, the little, and the lost. Like in Mary’s Magnificat, God lifts up the lowly, and gives to those in need. We should remember those stone jars.
We are transformed by the love of God in the moments when we least expect it. And when Jesus refills us, when we are filled with the refreshing water of life, we are then poured out for the world, transformed into a generous serving of the best God has to offer the world. The miracle is not in the transformation that God works in our lives; the miracle is that it is always the best. Given for everyone, with more than enough for all.
Amen
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