A look at the gaps in the lectionary.
This week: the gap between Pentecost and Trinity Sunday
The text: John 2
We spent most of Easter in the gospel of John, culminating in chapter 17 on the Day of Pentecost.
This week, we return to chapter 3—a text we covered back in Lent. And an interesting choice for Trinity Sunday.
While we’re probably focusing on the Trinity itself this weekend, we ought to remember the context for the gospel either way.
Nicodemus Again
Pick a passage from John and chances are we’re unsure of when in the story it occurs. Of course, John fans excepted. But let’s be honest: we read Nicodemus in church and do you think “beginning”? Does it strike you as “early”. As in—Jesus has done two things of note.
I bet if we read this and mislabeled the chapter number in the bulletin and called it, say, John 11, people wouldn’t be surprised. Does this take place in Holy Week?
John is weird that way. His storytelling is episodic rather than grandly narrative. But this project we’re on with this series is to focus on the grand narrative, so let’s jump in.
John 2 – part 1
This gospel begins with the famous creation account, the baptism in the Jordan, and the calling of the disciples. That is the first chapter. It is the second chapter where things get really interesting.
Two big events happen in chapter two. The first is one of the most famous pieces of Johannine writing: The Wedding at Cana. Often described as the first miracle of Jesus, we see Jesus and his mother attend a wedding banquet with his disciples.
It is famous account of Jesus turning water into wine: a trick famous outside the faith tradition, captured in memes, cartoons, and pop culture.
But the miracle itself isn’t the most interesting part. At least not to followers of Jesus who are unfazed by miracles but continue to be shocked by his priorities.
There are notable ideas present in the story, such as Mary knowing what her son is capable of and pushing him to act. That Jesus could just bring an entourage with him to this banquet. And, perhaps most tellingly, that he wants to keep it secret. This latter idea comes up again in this chapter.
But what is perhaps most important for us today is to recognize the face-saving character of this miracle and who the proper witness is for.
Witness and Joy
Jesus performs a miracle that only a few people get to witness and everyone else benefits from. This is kind of the opposite of our expectations, especially today. A miracle of the Madonna in a piece of toast shared online is witnessed by everyone and enjoyed by the one person who actually toasted the bread.
What we have here is Jesus keeping the wine going. Even to the point in which his act provides esteem to the host that isn’t earned. This is kind of a crazy and weird miracle compared with, say, feeding the multitudes.
But the craziness contrasts with who actually gets what is happening here: the kitchen staff. The servants. And the disciples. That’s it.
Our focus is often on a universal benefit or a service that goes directly to the poor. But this is a deep contrast for us that reverberates against our expectations.
The benefits seem to go to the wealthy here. But they remain in ignorance to the truth. And their game of esteem, pleasure, ranking, and preservation of the social order cloud their vision. Jesus seems to let them continue to live in their ignorance.
It may not be a pleasant thought for many, or something we’re allowed to say out loud in the U.S., but Jesus really thinks wealth, abundance, and pride of place make us stupid and arrogant people unworthy of repentance. Period.
Contrasting the preservation of ignorance is the new knowledge offered the working poor. Knowledge about Jesus and the world. Which means the miracle is for them. Not the wealthy elites getting drunk on the good stuff.
John 2 – part 2
Jesus heads to Jerusalem next for a confrontation with the religious elites at the Temple.
What most of us focus on is that it happens here rather than Holy Week, as it does in the synoptic gospels. The narrative in the other three gospels builds up to a confrontation in Jerusalem after the disciples are formed and the elites start to fear him.
In John’s gospel, it happens here, near the very beginning. And if we acknowledge the contrast in Cana, we can see it manifest here in Jerusalem.
The confrontation with the elite here expresses the sin present far lower down the chain in Cana—where the elites benefit from their stature in the community and the life of the workers remains a source of ignorance to them.
The spirituality of this passage—particularity the whole “temple of the body” part—is often treated as the entirety of the purpose; a strange take on a passage that involves Jesus making a whip and literally driving people out of the place.
We need to stop entertaining the Literal vs. Metaphorical debate with passages like this one because they distract us from the depth of them.
Jesus is taking on the Temple leadership, its distribution systems, and its vision for the future in a dramatic, physical act of civil disobedience. He calls them to reorient themselves to God’s way. And he does this so that the masses, who are the working poor, can be witnesses of this.
The poor, unlike in Cana, are not just witnesses in seeing the events and knowing who Jesus is to them, but that they might become benefactors of the new world in the manifested Dream of God.
The ending
The last verses of the chapter set an interesting postscript on the confrontation and transition to chapter three.
When he was in Jerusalem during the Passover festival, many believed in his name because they saw the signs that he was doing. But Jesus on his part would not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to testify about anyone; for he himself knew what was in everyone.
Jesus is continuing to work with secrecy given the divide present in the world. A divide that he knows.
It should now be clear why Nicodemus would be scared to be seen with Jesus. Not because of where Jesus comes from or because of the character of his preaching. Nicodemus, at this point, is one of the few elites who see the writing on the wall—writing that Jesus isn’t plastering or making clear. At least not to people like him.
But it is actually more dramatic than that. Nicodemus probably fears for his life. The stakes are already far higher than we, in our 21st Century comfort would recognize. And if we did, would we acknowledge them?
Would we acknowledge them for us in our world? Especially if Jesus is revealing miracles to the poor and we are continuing our practices oblivious?