Saturday 16 January 2016

Water into Wine

A sermon to be preached tomorrow, Epiphany 2 :-

The last wedding in our family was our own daughter’s in the September before last, but this year we’ve two nephews and a niece planning weddings, and hints of another nephew thinking along the same lines - so there’s a bit of a buzz in the air in our family.  Weddings these days are something of an industry in themselves. I’m sure I heard someone the other day on the TV talking about doing an apprenticeship as a wedding planner. Goodness, I thought, there’ll be a degree course in it before long. Perhaps there already is.

Of the three weddings we’ve got on the go, two I know nothing about as yet, except for the odd hint on Facebook. The one I do know about, the reception will be at Slater’s Country Inn at Baldwin’s Gate which is between Shrewsbury and Newcastle-under-Lyme. I'd be very surprised if the wine ran out there, and I can’t imagine my niece Vicki letting it happen. For us, wine's essential at a wedding, at the meal itself and for the toasts afterwards; and at a traditional Jewish wedding, wine would be just as important, if not more so. One rabbinical saying tells us that "without wine there is no joy."  Not that folk would get plastered - drunkenness, in fact, would have been a great disgrace at a Jewish wedding;  but it would have been just as much a disgrace if the wedding host fell short in the hospitality he offered to his guests.

So there would need to be plenty of wine on hand. So the story we’ve heard this morning begins with something of a tragedy. There’s a wedding, and the wine has given out. There may have been a miscalculation as regards numbers (maybe even caused by the friends of Jesus, arriving unannounced or hastily invited at the last minute). Maybe some of the wine had turned out to be too sour to use. Whatever the reason, things had gone badly wrong, so much so that Mary turned to her son and said to him, "Do something!"

And there our story begins. In fact, the reply Jesus gave his mother may seem to our ears rather harsh and discourteous. While we have only the written words, and can’t hear the tone of his voice, Jesus seems to be saying something like: "I should not be doing this yet!  The time is not yet right!"  But maybe the time was right, after all.

Certainly, Mary has faith enough in her son simply to say to the servants, "Do whatever he tells you."  And so it is that we witness one of the events of Epiphany; one of the decisive acts that display Jesus for who he is - not just Jesus the son of Joseph the carpenter, but Jesus the Christ, for those with the eyes to see it.

For those of a puritan turn of mind, it's worth noting that this first miracle of Jesus took place at a social do, with the aim of making the party go with more of a swing than it might have otherwise. Jesus, it seems, enjoyed a good party.  But a wedding was in any case a good symbolic setting for this miracle. Prophets like Hosea and Isaiah used wedding language to speak of the relationship between Israel and her God - the Covenant made with Moses when the law was given formed a relationship as mutually close and strong as when a wife is joined to her husband. The same image is used in the New Testament, in the Book of Revelation and in the letters of St Paul: there is a New Covenant made through Jesus, and the Church is the new Israel, spoken of as the Bride of Christ.

When John tells a story every detail tends to have a meaning beyond itself. There were six big old water jars, intended for the purification required by the Law of Moses. Do they represent the old Covenant? There were six of them, which is in Scripture an imperfect or unfinished number: does John want us to think about the imperfection of the old Law?

Scholars through the years have played about with this passage in such a way. Whether or not we try to find a message in each little facet of this story, there’s certainly a message in the story as a whole about the transformation of the old law, the old relationship with God. There’s something new beginning, here and now, in the man Jesus of Nazareth. What was merely water is being turned to wine. Maybe water represents the baptism of John, who said:  "There’s one among you who will baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire", while the new wine is a sign of Pentecost and of the fiery Spirit of God.

Where I certainly do find meaning is in the sheer amount of water that was changed into wine that day. Those jars of water would have contained something not far short of two hundred gallons. Turned to wine, that would have been enough for the wedding of a king. So this is by no means a half-hearted miracle, and we’re given a sign we can’t ignore of the liberality of God's grace. God's gifts of love, forgiveness, redemption, spiritual renewal are freely offered, are showered upon us, are certainly not rationed out. And we discover that there's no need on earth that can exhaust what God has to give, and that’s because what God gives is himself.

And all this took place in Cana, a place so small and unimportant that today no-one can be completely sure where it actually was. But in that little town the world was given a sign - a revelation - that in Jesus what was imperfect will be made perfect, and that in him there is grace unlimited, super- abundant grace, grace enough for every need. Grace given for everyone, not restricted to holy and special places, but ours wherever we meet in fellowship and service and celebration. I’m sure this is what John wants to tell us as he shares this story, and it's a good thing to hear as we come to the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity.

That week begins tomorrow, and encourages us to remember that whatever our differences as Christians, the God we worship and serve is one and the same: our generous and gracious Lord. We all share in the outpouring of his grace, and he calls on us to act graciously and generously together in his world. Only in our unity of purpose, and praise, and compassion, and care can the Gospel of our Lord be truly proclaimed.

For wherever Jesus went in life, and in all the things he did and said, it was like water turning into wine. That was so then, and it remains so today. If we invite Jesus into our hearts, remembering those simple words of Mary his Mother, "Do whatever he tells you," we too can be changed, transformed and renewed, like water into wine. The marks of a Church that’s doing this will be, I’m sure, generosity and joy, and these things are infectious: they spur people on, and they invite people in. Just imagine, if Jesus had performed a small and private miracle, ensuring there was just enough new wine for himself and his mates. But that’s not his way, not can it be ours. Our job is to be new wine for the world, and to give without expecting return or reward, but just because people need what we have.

Without wine there is no joy, said the rabbis. Jesus promises us, as he promised the people of Cana, that the new wine of his Spirit, the new wine of his abundant gifting, will be the source and well-spring of a deep and holy joy which is for us in fellowship and witness, and for the world in which he calls us to serve with a generosity that reflects and teaches his own.

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