Being a part of the change we long to see
Epiphany 2C  |  John 2:1-11

Before we talk about Jesus turning water into wine, we should talk about how we got here in the first place. Last week, Jesus was being baptized by John in the Jordan and suddenly, Jesus is at a wedding with his mom, brothers, and disciples. It sounds like some stuff has happened, right?

In John’s gospel, we have that amazing prologue about the Word being with God in the beginning. Then we meet John the Baptist, who is baptizing people in the Jordan River. Among those people is Jesus, who he tells his own followers is above him, greater than him. The next day, John points Jesus out to two of his own disciples, one of whom is Andrew, and the two just leave John and start following Jesus. Then Andrew finds his brother, Simon Peter, and brings him to Jesus.

Then the day after that, Jesus seeks out Philip because he’s from the same hometown as Andrew and Simon. And Philip brings Nathaneal with him.

It is a fascinating sequence of events, built on invitation and circumstance. Andrew brings his brother. Jesus finds an old buddy of theirs. Philip brings Nathaneal. And all of this starts because John has the humility to let his own disciples go.

Then, it says, “On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee”. In two days, Jesus collects five disciples, and the next day he takes them to a wedding.

The Wedding Feast

We have some thoughts about this, don’t we? Would you bring five brand new friends to a wedding with you? Of course not. But why? Because the host has a set guest list. You are invited. Maybe you and one other. Or you and the set number from your family. This is what we expect to happen. But this isn’t how it always was. Especially not with weddings, which were a community affair — and in many parts of the world, weddings still are. The procession can walk through the center of town, collecting people as it goes, bringing them to their place of worship for a community celebration. And if the whole community is there, they can attest to whether or not the couple could legally marry, If any of you can show just cause why they may not lawfully be married, speak now; or else forever hold your peace. In other words, is either of these persons married to anyone that you know? When the whole town is there, you’re bound to have people who know!

So we’ve got a different way of approaching weddings, don’t we? Hold onto that a little longer, because we’ll be digging into it.

But here is Jesus with his Mom, family, brand-new students, attending this big feast, and word comes to them that the wine has run out, which is a real social faux pas. And Mary hears this and is like, Son, you can help with that. Okay, stop right there. She knows that Jesus can make wine happen? I know she knows that he is the source of transformation of society — but this begs so many questions about what raising this dude was like. But we don’t get to know, do we? And we don’t need those stories, even though we want them. She knows. And even after he says no, she tells the servants: 

“Do whatever he tells you.”

She throws him under the bus. You’ve got to love it.

The Alchemy isn’t the story.

But it is the first show of power in the gospel we attribute to John. And tradition refers to it as Jesus’s first miracle. Which makes it a big deal. And this tradition makes the idea that Jesus can turn water into wine one of the most famous tools in Jesus’s toolbox. If you ask the public at large, especially people who weren’t raised in the church or read the bible, there are maybe three things that most Americans know about Jesus. He came back from the dead, he could walk on water, and he turned water into wine.

Now, think about that for a second. What is missing from that story? What Jesus actually teaches, right? How Jesus orients himself to the world at large? The very mission of God in the cosmos. We know the magic tricks, the superhero legacy. And often, not much else.

This story isn’t about a miracle. It is about how it is not time for the world to see the messiah’s true nature. It is about who gets to see the miracle and who doesn’t. And finally, it is about something more important than saving money. We know this because of how the story plays out. How it is the servants and disciples that bear witness to the miracle. Not the host. Or the other guests. Not even the steward sees this happen.

The servants. The ones working the event. They are the witnesses.

If turning water into wine was the point of this story, he’d have done it for everyone. But he did do it for everyone. Just not for them to know about it. He wanted for them to experience the joy that the bridegroom was shorting them on. The fellowship of gathering and celebrating and wanting that time to not come to an end. That is the miracle of the story.

We can’t ignore class, however.

This is an economic story, which is the most consistent thing about Jesus’s teachings and the most common thing we pretend isn’t there.

Jesus doesn’t allow shame to befall the host of the party — who is clearly wealthy enough to stage such a big, public gathering that is attended to by servants. This isn’t the thrust of the story, however, but an aspect, as the hidden grace is attended to by the servants, who are recruited by Mary to participate in an incredible scheme to bring more wine to a party that had run dry.

Remember, “Do whatever he tells you.” She brings the servants to Jesus like Andrew. Like Philip. And they get to witness. Not the wealthy attending, oblivious. This is a lower-class movement of reversing fortunes.

Even the steward, oblivious to the circumstances, bestows unearned platitudes on the wealthy host for his incredible generosity. What does he say? 

“Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now.”

Like frat parties where you start with craft beer and end with Milwaukee’s Best. He’s amazed at the generosity of the bridegroom, the host, the guy who just moments before was the cheapskate who undersupplied the party. But no, he saved the good stuff for now.

Only the servants pick up what Jesus is throwing down. They know who is responsible. And they hear from the testimonies of the people that Jesus’s wine is the good wine.

The good wine.

For John, this is the real theme. That Jesus is the source of the good stuff. Not the vineyards, wineries, or the estates of the wealthy. It can’t be bought or sold, it is something made and given freely. We’ll see this a little later with living water, which is the good stuff that Jesus offers a Samaritan woman.

But essential to our understanding of Jesus as the source of the good wine is the story of how the good wine is made and received — who witnesses the moment — who helps in the moment — who is empowered to participate in the spreading of the good wine.

When we draw out our deeper knowledge of Jesus, of his values and teachings, of his stories, like the parable of the landowner paying the day laborers for a day’s wage regardless of when he found them; of the Good Samaritan, who not only stopped and bandaged a beaten man, but took him to help and paid for his care. When we remember that God is love and that our work is to participate in that loving of the world, we are far less driven to see stories about alchemical transformations to be about Jesus’s status, but as reflecting his relationship to the world itself. 

Jesus calls people to be transformed — 

through repentance and baptism — to be fundamentally changed. That we have the potential to be that water turned into the good wine. That we become the source of joy and gratitude in another person’s celebration.

We don’t start out as the good wine just because of who we are, and yet we are loved for who we are. And we are invited because of our talents and gifts — our nature and personality — our skills and willpower — our tenderness and joy — to become something greater, to be of service to God’s beautiful transformation of the world. To be good wine, enjoyed and shared.

And as we are so used to worrying about guest lists and our plus ones, of budgeting and protecting resources, of worrying about the future and who can be served by our resources, Jesus keeps challenging those convictions, inviting us to be servants of a generous mission. That when we hear “Do whatever he tells you,” and we do, we are blessed, not with wealth, but witness to the miraculous grace of God.

Grace that doesn’t enrich the financial coffers of anyone, but enriches the lives of even the oblivious. Isn’t that something? That we might see how God can grace lives that aren’t our own? That we witness the transformational power and can rejoice in that?

That Jesus can bring the good wine when our earthly wine runs out. 

May we all be witness to that grace. To be of service. Full of joy. That we know this kind of love is about sharing it. And we, we, get to share it.