Sermons
Have you ever had the experience…
where someone has started telling you a story about something that has happened…
which they preface by saying it’s “interesting”…
but as they tell the story they keep going off on little tangents…
so that, after a while…
you begin to wonder, “Where is this all going?”.
Then, at a certain point, there’s a slight pause.
And you think to yourself, “And…?”—
only to discover that they have, in fact, finished the story…
that it didn’t really end up where you thought it was going…
that it was, in the end, all very anticlimactic…
and it wasn’t, in fact, a very interesting story at all!
And I have to be honest with you and say…
that’s how I feel about this morning’s story from John’s Gospel.
There’s a wedding in Galilee, in a place called Cana—
a place that’s otherwise unknown…
and may well have been invented by the author.
The fact that Jesus’ mother is mentioned first suggests that she was the primary invitee…
and that Jesus was invited by association.
But so, it seems, were his disciples.
I mean we’re used to invitations having a “Plus One” on them…
but seriously—a plus twelve?
Even at this stage, then, the clues are that it’s a very big wedding…
and thrown by someone who’s very wealthy and well-to-do.
We get further hints in that direction by the mention of multiple servants…
and a chief steward or head servant…
and the presence of large water jars made of stone.
Such jars would normally be made of pottery.
The fact that these have been carved from stone—
and presumably elaborately carved—
is also highly suggestive.
Our translation claims that each one of them held “twenty or thirty gallons”—
that is, American gallons—
and that would be the equivalent of about seventy-five to one hundred and fifteen litres each…
or a total volume of around five to six hundred litres.
That’s a lot of water for washing hands.
All of which suggests that the host is catering for a crowd of several hundred.
Everything points to this being a very large and very posh wedding celebration…
hosted by a very wealthy and powerful man.
Which makes you wonder why Jesus’ mother…
and Jesus…
were invited.
But we’re not told.
Nor is it explained why Jesus’ mother somehow felt responsible when there was a catering problem.
And note…
given the provisions that had been made for washing water…
one can only presume how much wine had been provided…
and so, how much the guests must have already drunk.
So, at this point, we have a posh wedding…
with a crowd of hundreds—
many of whom were probably also wealthy and well-to-do—
and all of whom were now rather sloshed.
The whole image is a bit seedy…
like Flemington Racecourse late on Melbourne Cup Day.
But…
horror of horrors…
the wine has run out.
Mary tells Jesus, clearly expecting him to do something about it.
And he gets rather huffy and responds to her rather rudely and almost petulantly.
But then he goes and tells the servants to refill the water jars…
and…
somehow, miraculously, turns the water into wine…
and not just any old wine…
but the first-century equivalent of Penfold’s Grange.
About five to six hundred litres of it!
The chief steward, on tasting it, is amazed…
and asks the host why he’s kept the really good stuff ‘til now when everyone is blotto.
And then we get the punch line of the story.
This was the first of Jesus’ signs—
note, nothing that Jesus does in John’s Gospel is labelled a “miracle”…
they are simply “signs”—
and, we’re told, “his disciples believed in him”.
But the meaning of the so-called “sign” is not explained.
Nor, in effect, are we told what the disciples actually believe.
Let’s be honest…
it’s not a very well-constructed story.
There are a number of superfluous details.
There’s also an absence of ones that would help us to make sense of the story as a story.
But it’s also a rather unsatisfactory story within its broader literary context.
According to John’s Gospel…
after being baptised by John the Baptist…
and having called his disciples…
this, then, is the very first thing that Jesus does.
Effectively…
the very first act of his public ministry is to perform a party-trick simply to impress his newly called followers.
After all, very few people present were aware of it.
Which means, in a sense, it wasn’t much of a sign.
But, more than that…
it’s worth remembering that in the other three Gospels—
in Mark, Matthew, and Luke—
the first thing that Jesus does after being baptised and calling his disciples—
aside from proclaiming “the Good News”—
is to heal ordinary folk who were sick.
But in John’s Gospel…
instead…
he helps out a wealthy host and saves him from losing face…
while trying to impress his own followers.
And while there may have been a Hebrew prophetic tradition that saw the messianic age as one of abundance…
nonetheless…
for me…
there’s something quite “off” about that being so upfront and in your face.
After all, we say as much by what we include as by what we leave out.
And, if first impressions are critical…
then the Jesus of John’s Gospel seems rather tame and domesticated—
and rather self-absorbed.
Contrary to the rest of the Jesus-tradition…
this is not a Jesus whose first thought is about healing the sick…
freeing the oppressed…
lifting up the poor…
or embracing the excluded.
Rather, we have a Jesus moving comfortably among the powerful…
and occasionally pulling out a neat party-trick…
but who otherwise comes across as more of a “public intellectual”…
who lives in his own head…
and would rather have some fine debates about esoteric matters of philosophy.
The author has, effectively, constructed a tame and domesticated Jesus…
who is, perhaps, much more palatable for a wealthy and well-to-do crowd—
who won’t be made to feel guilty…
or from whom too much won’t be demanded practically.
And to be honest…
I find it hard to discern anything here that is redeemable.
Some commentators suggest that the story affirms God’s care for us in the humdrum of everyday life.
But surely, that bespeaks a certain privilege.
What does it say about a God who cares more about a few rich people running out of wine…
than many poor people who are sick?
It’s like when I was a teenager…
and a church youth group leader encouraged us to pray if we were having trouble finding a parking spot.
Perhaps contrary to its intention, then, this story serves as a warning to us…
not to turn God into some sort of cosmic-dispensing machine…
who exists simply to fulfil our self-centred wants and needs.
Perhaps, too, it’s a warning about how easy it is to construct a Jesus…
and a God…
in our own image…
or in the image that we want.
And perhaps, more than anything…
it’s a warning not to take one biblical story in isolation…
and use it to construct our image of God…
or decide how we ought to respond to God…
and the plight of our world.