On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, “Fill the jars with water.” And they filled them up to the brim. He said to them, “Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward.” So they took it. When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, “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.” Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.
(John 2:1-11)
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Being a bit of a science fiction buff, I love stories about time travel. My favourite Star Trek episodes were always the ones where Captain Kirk or Captain Picard found themselves in a different time trying desperately to fit in to a strange culture, sometimes even doing things that would change history – things that would have to be corrected somehow or everything they knew would change and maybe they themselves would cease to exist. I love the story “The Time Machine” by H.G. Wells, as the Time Traveller fast forwards more than 800,000 years in time and confronts a nightmare of a future earth. I sometimes wonder – if I had the ability to travel either backward or forward in time, would I actually want to do it, and if I did it, what would I want to do, what would I want to see and who would I want to meet? As I considered the Gospel reading for this week – the story of Jesus turning water into wine – it occurred to me that one person I’d like to sit down and have an in depth chat with if I could go back to the late 19th century is Letitia Youmans.
That name might not be familiar to you, but she’s one of those people who are largely unknown but who played a significant role in history – both the history of society and the history of the church. Letitia Youmans was basically the leader of an organization that eventually came to be known as the Women’s Christian Temperance Union. The WCTU was absolutely and totally opposed to Christians drinking alcohol of any kind. It was the WCTU that caused many churches to start using grape juice instead of wine at Communion services. The WCTU explained that wine contained “the narcotic poison, alcohol, which cannot truly represent the blood of Christ.” The reason I’d love to sit down with Letitia Youmans is because I’d really like to get her take about this Gospel passage in which Jesus acts (for lack of a better word) as a vintner; a maker of wine. Perhaps that’s the reason that this passage often gets overlooked when we consider the great events and miracles of Jesus’ life. We know, of course, that this is his first miracle. The story tells us that. But then we don’t think too much about it. A hint of how beloved a Scripture passage is can be found in how many times a hymn writer chooses imagery from a passage as the basis of a hymn. Voices United has almost 900 hymns in it and do you want to know how many of those 900 hymns refer to this event? Exactly 1! There’s one in More Voices. We’re singing both today. And in all the research I’ve done I’ve only come across one other hymn that refers to Jesus turning water into wine – one written in 1973. This passage often gets ignored, because even in today’s world the image of Jesus as a party-goer and connoisseur of wine seems awkward. But that’s how this passage portrays Jesus. Jesus, his mother and some of his disciples were at a party. They had been invited to what we today would call a wedding reception. And we, the church, aren’t really too sure what to make of a party-going Jesus who makes sure that there’s enough wine for the guests.
I have to admit myself that this seems to be a strange way for Jesus to reveal his miracle-making ability. I mean – why not calm a storm as the first miracle? Or feed the hungry? Or heal a sick person? Or raise a dead person? Or walk on water? Why not do something really dramatic that future generations of Christians wouldn’t feel at all squeamish about commemorating with songs? Somehow, we expect more of Jesus; better of Jesus. Because – honestly – this is the Son of God! This is God in the Flesh! And he goes to a party and turns water into wine. I suppose it reveals his power well enough. I mean, people don’t turn water into wine. Water is water and wine is wine. You can turn water into something that looks like wine. To do that you need sodium carbonate and a chemical called phenolphthalein. . I doubt that Jesus had access to either in Palestine 2000 years ago and in any event you can’t really drink the stuff made with water, sodium carbonate and phenolphthalein. But the host of the party said that what Jesus had created was the best wine! It was wine – alcohol and all! It’s a dramatic revelation of Jesus’ power, but still – it comes across as a little bit like a parlour trick. It seems like something a magician might pull off. At worst, it seems mundane and pedestrian; unimportant and insignificant. To be honest, I can imagine myself asking, “so what?” So Jesus turned water into wine. So what? It’s dramatic – but what did it really accomplish? What good did it do? What noble purpose did it serve?
By the time Jesus’ life ends, of course, he’s accomplished a lot and he’s done a lot of good. By the time Jesus’ life ended he had in fact calmed a storm, and fed the hungry, and healed the sick, and raised the dead, and walked on water. But it all started with this curious little miracle of seemingly little importance that seems to have accomplished little of significance except to make a party a big success. Think about that. Jesus’ first miracle was to save a party that had been going downhill because the host ran out of wine. Strange. But you know what? The more I thought about this the more I started to wonder if this might not be just the first miracle of Jesus – but also his most important miracle of all! Not the most dramatic. Not the most helpful. Not the one that touched the most people. But, just maybe, the most important.
By saving a party that was going nowhere fast because there was no wine, doesn’t Jesus essentially associate himself with the mundane and unimportant things of everyday life? And if Jesus was God in the flesh, doesn’t that tell us something about God? Maybe the first miracle had to be something quite unimportant and even trivial, because if Jesus had started with something big, perhaps the implication would have been that God only cares about the big things in life – and in everything else we’re on our own. We see that idea expressed often. When a football player prays before a game or gives thanks to God after the game, people say “Get real! God doesn’t care about a football game!” Maybe some of you have thought that yourself. But think again. If God cared about a party, God probably cares about the football game. Do you know why God cared about the party? Because God’s people who were at the party cared about the party! Do you know why God cares about the football game? Because God’s people who were at the football game cared about the football game! We seem to want to limit God to only the biggest and most earth-shattering things. Healing the sick and raising the dead by all means! Feeding the hungry and caring for the poor? Absolutely! The particular troubles and trials and tribulations and nuisances and grievances and petty irritations that I’m going through right at this very moment? Of course – because they’re my troubles and trials and tribulations and nuisances and grievances and petty irritations – and that makes them important. But saving a party? Or blessing a football player? Say it ain’t so. It can’t be. But I want to ask – why can’t it be?
Did Jesus not say, “I am with you always ...” He didn’t say “I’ll be with you only when you face your biggest challenges.” He didn’t say “I’m with you only for the most important things.” He said “I am with you always ...” The miracle of turning water into wine at the wedding at Cana is a sign to us of God’s presence in the everyday things of life that so many people want to think of as off limits to God because God should only care about the most important things of life – as if God’s attention span was as short as ours; as if God were incapable of multi-tasking.
I will confess to you that in one sense I really couldn’t care less that Jesus turned water into wine. I don’t much care for wine. I really don’t. It’s not a temperance issue. I just don’t care much for wine. I really don’t much like the taste of the stuff. And to be honest I don’t care if it’s a $5 bottle of plonk or a $200 imported French wine – it’s foul tasting liquid to me. Some people drink wine and speak about the aroma or the bouquet or the hints of this and that flavour. I just kind of stifle a shudder as it goes down, and to my taste buds wine will always just be wine. No – I’ll never be a wine connoisseur, so I suppose this miracle fizzles a little bit for me. Until I think about it. If Jesus cared this much about saving a party, how much does he care about the admittedly trivial things that sometimes get to me? In the light of this miracle, is there anything so inconsequential that I can’t “take it to Jesus,” so to speak? The wedding at Cana tells me that, no, there isn’t. From the big things to the small things – Jesus cares. From the earth-changing and life-changing events to the things that just don’t much matter and are barely remembered an hour later, Jesus cares. To me that’s the message of this story, and that’s the point of this being Jesus’ first miracle. It’s to make sure that we understand that Jesus really does care about it all. And, ultimately, this is really just a small start to a bigger miracle. As Alyce McKenzie wrote, “At Cana, the gift is wine. It propels us forward to the hour when the gift will be new life.”
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