Jesus’s miracle of turning water into wine is famous. But it isn’t the only thing that matters about this story.
The true miracle at the heart of the story
Epiphany 2C | John 2:1-11
The Funny
As a writer, John isn’t known for his comedy. But this scene of Jesus at a wedding cracks me up.
First of all, Jesus doesn’t even really seem like he wants to be there. I’m sure he had other plans. He did just collect a bunch of students. He totally has better things to do than go as his Mom’s plus one. Maybe they were just gonna hang and watch movies or whatever, but still…
So then he drags his buddies with him to this wedding. Can you imagine showing up to a wedding with your twelve friends and being like “Congratulations! Now where are the appetizers?” And the hosts are like “We didn’t plan for this many people!”
Of course their customs were different. I’m not assuming this is how it was so much as imagining it happening today.
And yet, this bit of confusion adds to the tension in the story. He’s not ready. And This isn’t the moment.
Then there’s the bit with his Mom.
Mothers and Sons? Tell me that moment isn’t relatable!
She’s like: Jesus, do something.
He’s like: Nope.
And then she turns to the people working the party and is like: Do whatever he tells you.
Come on! That is funny. Mary is being such a Mom. Obviously there’s a problem and her sweet little boy can totally fix it. Put him in there! Go for it! Meanwhile Jesus is all emo and like you can’t make me and you’re always doing this stuff.
And then she totally shames him into doing it. He’s got no choice now. She put him on the hook.
So after saying he’s not going to do it. It isn’t the right time. What happens? He just does it.
Hilarious.
And it keeps going.
Jesus sees the big tubs people used to wash themselves with and points to them. That’s the solution. He gets the workers to fill them back up; buckets these people used to wash their hands. And Jesus has them ladle up some of that nasty, gross bathroom sink water and offer it to the chief steward.
Let’s pretend we don’t know what’s going to happen. The ladle is being handed over and… Think of all those comedies you’ve seen in which somebody is offered something totally gross and disgusting and unsanitary. Or idiots doing gross things on MTV or YouTube. The steward is getting punk’d.
But instead of a spit take:
He commends the host!
This isn’t dirty sink water, it is the best wine he’s ever had!
But he doesn’t commend him for how good it is. He commends him for serving the good stuff when everyone else would serve trash. In other words, the dirty sink water of the wine world.
The reversal here is funny enough. But then put it into the deeper comedic context.
This is the scene in the movie in which the plucky protagonist scraping by in poverty attends some gala with a bunch of rich, high society types. He pulls a prank on them that they don’t even get. But instead of forcing them to see that they are really drinking bacteria-infested water, Jesus really does deliver the good stuff.
And the only people who see the truth are those working-class folk serving the people. The ones who were in on the prank.
The reversal for us is that it isn’t actually a prank. It’s a miracle.
This story is funny. And powerful.
It uses these reversals to undermine our expectations and throw us off our usual course.
A course that leads us to see Jesus as un-relatable in his perfection. In his wisdom and power. This story undermines that with his ridiculous overreaction to his Mom and his sly miracle.
But most of all, this story teases us and our expectations with its potent symbolism and pointedness.
Because this could have been easy and straightforward. He could say yes. He could refill the wine bottles and let everyone see it.
What he does instead is provide a miracle for everybody, but only shows it to the powerless.
At the heart of this miracle story is a bold truth about who needs the miracle to be true.
We get to see it after all.
Whether we would be attending that wedding or working it. Today, we all get it. But this message of transformation and redemption; yes, of saving face and honoring commitments; is for us because we, too, are the disciples. Dragged to someone else’s wedding to eat their food.
And what we see is bigger than a wedding party.
The Chief Steward experiences defied expectations.
Defied low expectations. Expectations that everybody is a liar and a cheapskate. That nobody would serve the good stuff second. Nobody would be that generous and foolish.
The chief steward can’t comprehend that someone would not cheat.
And yet, here is someone who did the opposite. Someone who served good stuff and then served better stuff!
Now, of course, this guy doesn’t know it was Jesus who did it. But that wasn’t really the point.
The Steward hadn’t considered that anyone would do this. And yet, here it is.
The miracle here isn’t the water turned to wine. It is finding out that the deep pessimism about human nature that we all carry is fundamentally untrue. Because it doesn’t have to be true.
At the heart of the missio dei, the mission of God, is this incredible truth that we keep burying under our pessimism: we can change. And that other people can change.
Our neighbors aren’t liars and manipulators; the villains of the story. We aren’t doomed to a dim view of creation. Any of us, any of us, can prove that vision of humanity wrong. And every day millions do.