The Second Sunday after the Epiphany
January 14, 2007
Isaiah 62;1-5
Psalm 90
I Corinthians 12:1-11
John 2:1-11
Today marks the second Sunday after the Epiphany. I would not ordinarily announce that but I haven’t placed much of an emphasis on the season in my sermons, and today I want to do that. We are in a season of manifestation, of revelation and discovery. The season of Epiphany invites us to be in an open and curious place for hearing the Gospel. Even a vulnerable place as we hear of Jesus’ life and ministry in the hope that we will encounter him in a new way. A new way of seeing who Jesus is and who we are in our life and in our relationship with him. Such seeing often comes as an epiphany, a sudden awareness of something we did not know, or understand, or experience in hearing the gospel. We might even say that Jesus is in a place of epiphany himself in John’s Gospel as he inaugurates his ministry in the world. After 30 years of waiting and preparing, I can just imagine Jesus asking the questions, “Where shall I begin?” “How shall I begin?” The same questions you and I asked of ourselves when we graduated from high school or college, when we began a new job, when we started a new life with our life-companion, or held our firstborn child for the first time. We were anxiously looking for the signs which would take us into our new life with confidence and hope in our future. What we learned in those somewhat tentative, if not scary moments is that the best way we can begin a new thing in our life is just to begin. In today’s Gospel lesson, Jesus’ new life and ministry seems to happen like that. It just begins. But it is important to know that in John’s Gospsel and in each of the synoptic gospels, the writers carefully and purposefully chose the story which inaugurates Jesus’ ministry. The story is different in each case. And there is a good reason for that. Each of the gospels was written in a particular time and place and for a particular community. It is certain that the writer of each of our gospels takes a particular point of view about Jesus, a point of view he believes is important for the people his gospel is intended to speak to. So I am inclined to believe that these first accounts which begin Jesus’ ministry is of great importance in the gospels, because each sets the tone and content for revealing who Jesus is and who God is.
For example, Mark’s first accounts of Jesus’ ministry make much of Jesus’ healing and miracles. It is clear that Mark wants to convince his readers that Jesus is truly the one who brings the “good news” of God to his people. And his listeners need all the good new they can get. They are Jews who are recent and vulnerable followers of Jesus who live in a threatening time for Jews in the Roman Empire. They need much confirmation and support as they seek to take up their own cross to follow him. In Matthew’s first account of Jesus’ ministry, he is intent on proving to us that Jesus is the Messiah by his birth, and by his teachings. The lengthy genealogy which begins Matthew’s Gospel is important for establishing Jesus’ lineage as a Jew in a community of Jews who see themselves as the inheritors of the messianic tradition. Matthew is writing primarily for urban Jews, well educated and sophisticated Jews who value their tradition. Early events in Jesus’ ministry are teaching moments; they show Jesus to be the new Moses and the messianic descendent of David. It is important to Matthew that these followers of Jesus not only follow his teachings but that they make disciples of others Jews like themselves. Unlike the readers of Mark and Matthew, Luke’s gospel is written for non-Jews who are called gentiles. Unlike Mark, Luke does not feel the need to show us a mysterious Jesus whose signs of healing and miracles are a proof and comfort to his people. And unlike Matthew, Luke does not feel the need to establish Jesus’ authority by his lineage or by his teaching. Luke is a story teller, and his approach to Jesus’ ministry is simply to tell the stories of Jesus in the confidence that such powerful stories will speak for themselves. From the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, the stories Luke tells emphasize Jesus’ inclusiveness and compassion for all people in the world, especially the poor, the sick and the outcast—and Gentiles.
Then, of course, there is the Gospel of John, a gospel unlike all the rest. So much so, this gospel almost did not get into the canon of scripture. John takes a completely different tack. He is not interested in telling a good story; he is not interested in preaching and teaching. Nor is he interested in convincing us or supporting our efforts to follow a Jesus who is difficult to know and comes to a tragic end. From the beginning John’s Jesus is God come to earth. And he comes with majesty and authority to reveal himself to his people. John wants to show us who God is by showing us who Jesus is. And the God of the manger will not do. It is no surprise that John’s gospel does not begin with a birth narrative. Jesus comes to us as the Word, incarnate, fully grown. The very means by which God will communicate himself to the world. For John’s readers every word that Jesus speaks and every action Jesus takes points to God and reveals God’s glory. So what can we make of the fact that John’s first account of of Jesus’ ministry is a wedding feast. What do you suppose John wants to reveal to us right away about God in this event? What impact do you suppose John wants his revelation to have on his readers?
Before I try to address these questions, I’d like to focus on the event itself, especially one aspect of the story which has always been a curiosity to me. It is the brief, but intense dialogue between Jesus and his mother. You shouldn’t be surprised that I would focus on this aspect of the story. I am, after all, the mother of a son myself, so the dynamic between this mother and son not only jumps out at me, it disturbs me. I can’t imagine my son responding to me as Jesus responded to Mary when she asked him to do something he was more than capable of doing. Jesus not only rebuffs her, he addresses her not as mom, or mother, but “Woman.” I am not sure how I would have reacted if my son ever addressed me like that. In fact, I am pretty certain the thought of addressing me that way would not even have crossed his mind. But when Mary says to her son, “they have no wine,” I can imagine two things. I can imagine a mother not wanting to give a direct command to her grown son, especially if she is not sure how he will respond to her request. So her question is indirect. She undoubtedly hopes that he will see the problem for himself and take charge to do something about it. The second thing I can imagine from their dialogue is a response from a son which goes something like this: “So what am I supposed to do about it.” And, in fact, that is pretty close to Jesus’ response. “Woman,” he says, “what concern is that to you and to me?” But being a mother, Mary knows she has made her point. She knows that, in fact, Jesus will do something about it, because in her way she has asked him to, and, after all, she is his mother. She is so certain that she turns discreetly to the servants and tells them, “Do what he tells you.”
Now, if you don’t already understand this dynamic between a mother and a son, it will be helpful for you to know that in families in Jesus’ time, both boy children and girl children were raised exclusively by their mother. Boys, however, were more highly valued than girls so they were doted upon by their mothers and their sisters. That may seem like a good thing, and it undoubtedly was for a boy, until he reached adulthood. Then his life completely changed. He was expected to be and act like a man. To be independent and self-sufficient, co-equal with other men in his community. He was no longer under the authority or dotage of his mother and mothers generally knew their place in that. So it might be surprising that at 30 years of age Mary still has such influence over her son—even though it must now be indirect. But it is also not surprising that Jesus would address her as “Woman.” For that was a way of showing his mother that even though he will accommodate her request, he is independent of the power and authority of her influence. Such independence is important for a son of a mother who must establish his independence of her if he is to be married and make his own life with another woman. It is especially important for Jesus if he is to begin his ministry as the son, not of Mary, but of God. It is essential in John’s Gospel where all that Jesus is and all that Jesus does from this moment to his death on the cross is meant to reveal God to us.
So how does Jesus reveal God to us in this brief interchange with his mother? Well, it is interesting to note that Jesus initially resists revealing God to us. “My hour has not come,” he says to his mother. What Jesus is saying is that he is not ready yet. He is not ready to do the thing that will reveal his nature to the people. Perhaps Jesus was waiting for a more propitious moment or occasion to announce himself to the world. Something that would really get people’s attention. Someting like what happens in each of the other gospels. A wedding, after all, was a pretty common event, and running out of wine was truly not Jesus’ problem. In fact, he may have been as shocked and disappointed as the other guests to think that the host of this party did not plan adequately for the week-long event. And in the end, it is really not his problem. But let me say, more or less tongue in cheek, that mothers seem to know what is best for their sons. Mary seems to know that this is the moment Jesus is to get on with his life. This is his opportunity. It is time for him to be the person God made him to be and do what God intends him to do as the Word was made flesh. This wedding is the right occasion. And her indirect request of Jesus is a test for him to decide.
Jesus knows it, too. Immediately following his response to his mother, he recognizes six stone water jars empty of their water and they become a sign to him, a sign that it is the right moment to reveal himself as the sign which points to God. Jesus is aware that the jars are used for the rite of purification before a Jew enters the Temple for worship. So Jesus tells the servants to fill the vessels to the brim with water. Then he has them empty some water from each of them. And he turns that water into wine. Not just any wine. But the best wine. Wine which is usually served first at a wedding banquet so that when the guests get a little tipsy, they will accommodate a weaker, watered down wine for the rest of the celebration. John tells us, as he often does in his gospel accounts, that Jesus revealed his glory in the first of his signs that he was the Son of God. And immediately his disciples believed in him.
And what did Jesus reveal of God’s Glory to the people that day? Well, the answer lies in the events of the wedding feast itself. We cannot say what actually happened that day, or how it happened, but we do know that John makes this event the inauguration of Jesus’ ministry for a reason. The reason has to do with the changing of the water into wine, and it has to do with the character of a wedding celebration itself. A wedding is undoubtedly the most joyous event of couple’s life, and one of the most enjoyable events for the people who participate in it with them. Much time and money and preparation go in to making a wedding special. The joy and hope of the occasion is infectious. I have known people who are less than happy in their marriage become infected by the joy of attending a wedding. If only for the moment, married couples remember the joy and the hopefulness in it. I must admit, I always cry at weddings. I think my tears reflect a my strong feeling that a wedding represents the highest hope and ideal we can achieve in any relationship in this life. This is why the writers of Hebrew scripture use weddings and marriage as a metaphor for our relationship with God. As we heard today in our passage from Isaiah, God regards himself the bridegroom who rejoices over his bride, Jerusalem. So what better metaphor for God, and what better occasion than a wedding for showing us who God is for us and who we are to be for each other. As the bridegroom, of creation, God takes great joy in his creatures; he cares deeply for us, and he is so hopeful about our future with him. And we are to take great joy in him and in each other. This Gospel of John is not only good news; it is joyful and hopeful news. And Jesus is the joy and hope of God.
And what about the other sign—the wine which was made from water. Can you imagine anything that would dampen a wedding celebration more than running out of wine? In biblical times, wine enhanced the joy. Weddings were an opportunity to reel in joy, the kind of joy that makes us laugh heartily and makes us say and do funny, even outrageous things. We all know that wine can bring out the worst in people as well, but not at weddings. Wine seems to have the effect of enhancing joy. And should the wine run out the joy is not complete. Jesus’ act of changing water into wine, good wine, wine enough to last through the rest of the celebration and then some, tells us something about God’s abundance, an abundance which will never run out, an abundance of joy which will serve our greatest joy and see us through out greatest challenges.
Then there are the vessels themselves. If you remember they are vessels used for the rite of purification before worship, so they are empty. But what do they represent for John who is telling us this story? And what do they reveal about God. Well, a jar that is empty is not serving the purpose for which it is intended. In this case the water which fill them is intended for purification. When Jesus changes the water of purification into new wine it is a sign that God’s purpose will not only be filled by Jesus; it will be fulfilled in Jesus. Jesus is the Word made flesh, the vessel who carries the new wine; a new vision and understanding of God, and a new way of living our life in this world. But like vessels whose purpose can only be served when they are filled, God’s people cannot run on empty, either. We, too, need to be filled with this new wine, the wine which can cleanse and purify all that would keep us from a full and joyful relationship with God and with each other.
Is there anything more wonderful than images of a wedding feast to show us God’s abundant joy and hope in his love for us? I can’t imagine what it would be. C. S. Lewis couldn’t imagine anything else like it himself. Lewis writes, “Joy is a sign of God’s presence.” John’s gospel account of the marriage at Cana sets us up for a Gospel of hope in love and joy in relationship with each other and with a God who made us for such love and joy. And throughout John’s gospel Jesus will continue to reveal the Glory of God’s hope in us and his joy in us. It would be well for us to remember that this God first revealed himself to us at a wedding feast. He gave us new wine to drink; good wine, too, so that we might be filled with joy and hope. And if for any reason we stop feeling the joy and hope in our life, then we will know that we have allowed ourselves to become empty of him. We will know that the wine has run out. Then we will have two choices: we can continue to live our lives on empty or we can return to the wedding feast. Where God awaits us, ready to fill us with new wine and new joy and hope in the abundant love we will find in him. If you have ever known a Christian whose life seems to overflow with joy and hopefulness, you will know how infectious joy and hope can be. I believe these are the identifying marks of a Christian, and I believe people who come to know us by our joy and hope will eventually want the same joy and hope for themselves. Anyone can have the joy and hope we have in God, and they can have them in abundance. All they need is an invitation to the wedding. And God is counting on us to invite them.