The wine had
given out and the party was about to come to a premature end.
In our day and
time, weddings typically take place on Saturday afternoon followed by a
reception with dinner, drinks, and dancing.
Everything wraps up around 11:00 PM.
The wedding Jesus attended was very different. The celebration was a community event including
more than family and friends extending over several days. Jesus and his disciples arrive three days
after the festivities kick off. Running
out of wine was a huge social faux pas bringing shame to the bridal couple and
their families. And if Jesus is the one
who brings life to the world, when he arrives the party is supposed to take
off, not fizzle out.
Jesus’ mother,
appearing for the first time in John’s gospel, is deeply concerned, but we are
not told why. Is she a relative or
merely sensitive to the needs of others?
Whatever her motivation, she approaches her son and makes him aware of
the situation. Jesus, for his part, is
confused. Literally translated, his
response in the Greek text says “What to me and you?” “Why is this our concern?” His mother then addresses the servants. A literal translation of the text says
something like, “Do whatever he might tell you.” She has no idea if Jesus will do anything at
all and if he chooses to act, she has no clue what his plan might be.
There are six
empty containers right there. They are
used to hold water for ritual cleansing.
Every person attending the wedding had drawn water from them and gone
through a ceremonial process of washing away sins and impurities. No one was allowed to be a part of the celebration
who did not go through the cleansing.
Jesus gives two instructions.
First, fill up the jars with water.
This is no small task. Each jar holds
enough water to fill up half of a bathtub.
Assuming it had to be drawn by bucket from a well, this process took
some time and effort; time that could be better spent addressing the crisis of
the wine shortage.
Once the jars are
full, Jesus gives his second instruction: “Draw out some water and give it to
the master of ceremonies.” After tasting
it, all this person knows is more wine has been found and his only amazement is
it is much better than what they were drinking before. The servants know what happened, and so too
do Jesus’ disciples. John calls it a
“sign”, not a “miracle”. It reveals who
Jesus is and his disciples believe because of it.
Have you ever
felt like the wine was running out of your life? I don’t mean actual wine from a bottle, but
that thing which gives you life and joy and purpose and hope? Have you ever felt like the wine was running
out? Each of us has been there, and most
of us more than once. Some of us are
there right now. Most likely you will be
there again somewhere down the road.
Maybe you are bored. Perhaps life
has gotten stale. You have no energy or
enthusiasm to give to the same old same old.
Or maybe the wine has run out because life has bruised you, battered
you, and broken you to the core. You are
hurting to the very depths of your being and don’t know where to turn.
What do you do when
the wine runs out?
If we were Roman
Catholics, we might turn to Mary the mother of Jesus and ask her to intercede
on our behalf: “Please let you Son know I need some help.” Mary has never featured prominently in my
spirituality though. Still, in my
experience, tending to my spiritual disciplines is absolutely essential when
the wine has run out. Weekly worship and
receiving the Eucharist is life-sustaining.
The words of the hymns, the message of hope in the scripture, the insight
of a sermon, praying for myself and for others, confession, taking Bread and
Wine, giving thanks, interacting with others: it may not be the new wine, but
it will see you through until a new wine arrives in your life.
When I am out of
wine I nurture other spiritual disciplines in addition to Sunday worship. I like to use some form of Evening Prayer in
my home. Its prayers for light in the
darkness are especially helpful. The
simple act of lighting a candle reminds me of the presence of light in my life. It proclaims the darkness has not overcome me. I turn to reading: scripture, classics from
our Christian tradition, and poetry have a way of bringing light into my
life. And I welcome opportunities to be
with family and friends who bring healing and happiness.
What else can you
do when the wine runs out?
There is a little
detail in today’s reading I never noticed before. The water jars are empty. For some reason I had always thought there
was water already in them and Jesus turned it into wine. I always thought he took something already there
and transformed it. It would be the
equivalent of sitting back when the wine has run out and waiting passively for
something to happen to make everything better.
Before the wine could flow at the wedding in Cana the servants had to do
something. They had to fill up the jars
with water. There could be no new wine
without it.
The meaning is
straight-forward: when the wine runs out of your life, you have to fetch some
water. The challenge is figuring out
what the water is. I remember being in a
dark place after my marriage ended in 2002.
I would sit at the dinner table by myself for two or three hours and
never move. After the traumatic death of
my daughter’s third hamster in just six months, I realized we needed a more
durable pet. Enter Dipstick, a Jack
Russell Terrier puppy who was loving, energetic, and yes, resilient. Dipstick did a lot of good things for my
daughters and me. My days of sitting at
the table in stillness and grief came to a swift end. Dipstick was all about go! go! go! now! now!
now! Getting a dog was not the only
water I fetched, but it was an important way God brought new wine into my life.
I love to share a
story Frank Gray, former assisting bishop in the Diocese of Virginia, tells
about a church in Indiana he served as rector.
The wine had run out of that lifeless congregation by the time he arrived. Everything about its worship was deadly
dull. It had no life, no energy, no
spirit. Over time, in Gray’s mind, the
single thing that came to embody the miserable state of the congregation was
the drab altar flower arrangement put out each week. It was consistently lack-luster and
unimaginative. Then one day a family
brought a child to be baptized. The
grandmother asked if it was possible for her to make a floral arrangement for
the altar for the service. Gray said yes
and what she created was spectacular.
The next thing he knew, a group of parishioners wanted to form a floral
guild to make arrangements on a weekly basis.
Over time, this one change brought the entire parish to life. Who would have thought Sunday’s floral
arrangements could be the water that would be turned into wine?
Three years ago, when preaching on this
text, I introduced you to Richard Wilbur’s poem The Wedding at Cana. He is a celebrated poet and an
Episcopalian. The poem is a toast for a
family wedding:
St. John tells
how, at Cana’s wedding feast,
The water-pots poured wine in such amount
That by his sober count
There were a hundred gallons at the least.
The water-pots poured wine in such amount
That by his sober count
There were a hundred gallons at the least.
It made no
earthly sense, unless to show
How whatsoever love elects to bless
Brims to a sweet excess
That can without depletion overflow.
How whatsoever love elects to bless
Brims to a sweet excess
That can without depletion overflow.
Which is to say
that what love sees is true;
That this world’s fullness is not made but found.
Life hungers to abound
And pour its plenty out for such as you.
That this world’s fullness is not made but found.
Life hungers to abound
And pour its plenty out for such as you.
Now, if your
loves will lend an ear to mine,
I toast you both, good son and dear new daughter.
May you not lack for water,
And may that water smack of Cana’s wine.
I toast you both, good son and dear new daughter.
May you not lack for water,
And may that water smack of Cana’s wine.
“What love sees
is true; that this world’s fullness is not made but found. Life hungers to abound and pour its plenty out
for such as you.” Peter James Lee,
retired bishop of the Diocese of Virginia once described the season of Epiphany
as being a season of ‘signs.’ He said
that we see the signs of the kingdom as we live by faith, not before we have
faith. I think Wilbur captures the
essence of a faith that allows us to see the signs: believing God has filled
this world with abundant goodness, believing grace abounds, believing mercy is
real, believing in blessing. When you
have faith in these things you will see signs of them all around you. Yes, there will be times when the wine runs
out of your life, but in those moments you will be open to the possibility of
new and better wine entering in.
Whatsoever
love elects to bless
Brims to a sweet excess
That can without depletion overflow.
Brims to a sweet excess
That can without depletion overflow.