(Scripture: Isaiah
62:1-5; I Corinthians 12:1-11; John
2:1-11)
Today’s Gospel reading tells
us, if nothing else, that Jesus was not afraid to have a good time. It’s a very human story, reminding us that
Jesus had family and friends, and got invited to parties. And in this party, when the wine runs out,
Jesus the guest turns out to be Jesus the unseen host.
Cana was a small village, far
from the bustling city, and so what we have here is a snapshot of a country
wedding. Daily life was difficult, and “rite of passage” moments such as a
wedding would provide the village with a festive change of pace, a relief from
the day-to-day routine. Likely the
whole extended families of the bride and groom, along with much of the village
would have been invited. The feasting would
have gone on for days, to allow time for distant guests to make the journey out
to Cana. It goes without saying that
one’s wedding day would be perhaps the most memorable time of one’s life. Given that people would have traveled
significant distances on foot to get there, I think we can intuitively get some
sense of the embarrassment of the host family, that the wine had run out – they
couldn’t just run out to the state store to pick up a few bottles.
Mary picks up on what’s happening
and tells Jesus, “They have no wine.” And,
to our ears, Jesus basically comes across as an obnoxious jerk when he
responds, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet
come.” First of all, Jesus addressing
his mother as “woman”, to us, sounds just plain rude – apparently in that
culture it wouldn’t have been quite as offputting as it is to us, though it’s
notable that Jesus doesn’t address Mary as “mother”. Then Jesus basically says, “Hey, not my
problem!” And then Jesus says those mysterious
words “My hour has not yet come.”
One of the recurring themes
in John’s Gospel is Jesus’ hour of glorification – which is a reference to the
crucifixion, when Jesus is lifted up, drawing all unto himself, and the
resurrection. Twice in John’s gospel,
we’re told that the religious leaders wanted to arrest Jesus, but they didn’t
do so, because his hour had not yet come – the same phrase we hear Jesus use
today. For John and his community, it
was important to state that Jesus was in control at all times – he would come
to the aid of the wedding party, but on his own terms, not because of his
mother’s prompting. And Mary seems to
recognize this when she tells the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”
In Roman Catholic theology,
this passage is a basis for addressing prayers to Mary. As she
did at the wedding feast, many call upon Mary to intercede with Jesus, to plead
with Jesus to help us in our struggles.
As Protestants, while we respect Mary, our prayers are to Jesus. And yet Mary remains a model for us, not
standing by indifferently when there’s trouble, but asking Jesus for help –
which is something we are called to do as well.
In some of the prophetic
books of the Old Testament, wine is a sign of the coming of the reign of God –
near the end of his book, Amos speaks of a time when “the mountains shall drip
sweet wine, and all the hills shall flow with it. I will restore the fortunes
of my people Israel, and they shall rebuild the ruined cities and inhabit them;
they shall plant vineyards and drink their wine, and they shall make gardens and
eat their fruit.” So Jesus’ provision
of wine not only speaks of God’s extravagant abundance, but of the reign of God
where there will be enough for all. And
it speaks of a God concerned not only for big matters of life or death, but for
something as small as the supply of wine at a wedding feast.
Jesus said that he came that
we may have life, and life abundantly.
We look around at our situations and wonder if we have enough, let alone
anything left over. Prosperity preachers
tell us that if we pray the right magic prayer – and especially if we mail in
our love offerings – God will open the heavens and shower down blessings on
us. But I believe that the abundance of
which Christ is available, not in isolation, but in community. You may not have enough of one thing and I
may not have enough of something else, but together there may be enough of both
– enough and to spare for others. In
Mark’s Gospel, Jesus told his followers that there is no one who has left house
or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for his sake
and the sake of the kingdom, who will not receive a hundredfold in this age –
houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields – and in the age
to come eternal life. Our
individualistic culture calls us to self-absorption – faced with someone else’s
suffering, we’re tempted to say, “what’s it to me?” But like the servants at the wedding feast,
we should listen to the words of Mary, “Do whatever he tells us.” Do whatever
Jesus tells us, even if it’s as seemingly irrational as filling water jars in
order to get more wine – to do whatever Jesus tells us, not only with our
money, but with our time and talents, to help one another and our
neighbors. Paul’s writing to the church
at Corinth reminds us that it is together that we are the body of Christ, each
with various talents for building up the whole body. In the church, no single person is called on
to do everything, but we are all called to offer our gifts and talents. And likewise, we should also be humble enough
and teachable enough to receive the benefit of one another’s gifts and talents,
allowing others to exercise their God-given gifts. And in this way, we have gifts in abundance.
And on this Martin Luther King
day weekend, we are reminded that God’s abundance is for all, not just for
some, that the blessings of justice and peace are for all, not just for
some. Dr. King was one who did what
Jesus told him to do, even when it meant putting himself in harm’s way, being
arrested, eventually being murdered. We
are all guests at the great wedding banquet of God’s son. To the extent that we try to bar others from
the table, we ourselves will be cast into outer darkness – for it is God’s
banquet, not our own.
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