Married for many years, Paul had been ignored by his wife, Liz, for some days, so eventually he confronted her with what he perceived as the problem.
'Come on Liz, admit it,' he ranted, 'You only married me because my granddad left me $6 million, didn't you?'
'You really are silly, Paul,' retorted Liz loudly, 'I couldn't care less who left it to you.'
There are a lot of wedding jokes out there, believe me, I’ve done quite a few weddings and have needed to find funny stories for many a homily. Do you know what most of them have in common? Most of them hint at the seemingly inevitable animosity between the bride and groom. While conflict is a natural by-product of our
human nature, it is somewhat disheartening to me that we just assume that a married couple would bear some level of disdain of each other. (Or at least, we like to joke about it).
Marriages can be wonderful, but they are also fragile, and sometimes terrible. Recently we marked the 16 days against gender-based violence and heard stories of women trapped in abusive marriages. Less discussed is the feminist claim that marriage all too often (some say always) reinforces a patriarchy because it tends to reinforce gender inequality, devalues women, and perpetuates male dominance. I don’t believe this must always be so – but it’s an important insight for us to consider as we strive toward a more equitable society.
We’re seeing the results of oppressive systems of power and control – the ultra-rich are no longer hiding the ways they can use their resources to sway public opinion so that those serving their best interests are thrust into power. Need this be so? What is our calling, as followers of Jesus, when it comes to matters of economics and politics? Does our faith say anything to policies that favour the wealthy and reduce support for the most vulnerable among us? Do we support a worldview that promotes hierarchy – where those at the top are permitted to exploit those beneath them? Does our understanding of God reinforce this idea, as it has for many people for many centuries?
I think today’s miraculous gospel story might have something to say here. In John’s gospel Jesus uses a wedding as the place where he first reveals his glory. I’ve used this text at many a wedding to illustrate the point that God uses marriage as a place where God’s glory might be revealed. A marriage is a deep commitment and a sacred promise. It is a way of life that challenges every part of a person. Two individuals, with their own wills and ways of doing things, are committing to stand together, despite their difference, and choose to love one another, especially when they least feel like it.
A union of any kind, whether it be between two persons, or between opposing factions in society or in the Church, is a sacred but fragile entity. At the wedding in Cana, not enough wine was procured for the celebration. We don’t know why – perhaps more guests attended than expected. Perhaps the family spent all they had, hoping it would suffice. When it ran out, the family would face intense humiliation, and perhaps damaged relationships with their guests. To run out of wine at such an occasion was a severe breach of their social code.
Mary turns to her Son, already demonstrating her belief in his uniqueness. And Jesus uses what they already had, jars filled with the water used for purification rituals, and he transforms them into something better than they could have asked for or imagined. He didn’t just produce a small amount of wine to get them through the night – he created some 150 gallons of the best wine the guests had ever tasted.
What a special outpouring of Christ’s love and grace! What a miracle for the wedding party to celebrate on the cusp of their new life together! How generous was Jesus to not only provide gallons upon gallons of wine, but to offer the best kind of wine imaginable.
The gifts of Jesus extend well beyond meeting the needs of the moment for health or safety or food. In this story, those gifts encompass the celebration of life itself. That is to say, the sheer abundance of the gifts Jesus brings to humankind extends beyond what any human being can ask or think or comprehend.
This miraculous story sets the trajectory for the rest of the gospel, culminating in Christ’s death (where water and wine pour out of him as the spear is thrust into his side) and resurrection (punctuated by Thomas’ fingers placed in his pierced side). God’s ultimate act of love is at the centre of our faith and ought to shape how we approach all of life. In this story we learn of the boundless generosity of Jesus – and we are challenged to live out his character as we are now the Body of Christ in the world.
I know this is a generous parish – you’ve given for years to sustain the ministry in this place, you’ve paid for rooves, furnaces, renovations, helping strangers in need, but generosity is more than just the giving of money. It is about pouring out love and grace to all those who need it. Jesus seems annoyed initially by his mother’s request – perhaps feeling some resentment about the host’s poor planning. But he shows grace instead of lecturing, generosity instead of judgment. And he takes something they did have, something that had religious significance and importance, the ceremonial water, and he transforms it into something even better, something that celebrates life and joy in the world God created.
In Jesus we find the breaking in of God’s way of being – and it is a way of love and generosity. It is not of hoarding and hierarchies – it is of community, of sharing resources, and not being stingy with our resources! Our God is not up in the sky somewhere waiting to punish those who fail to measure up to His standards of holiness. Rather,
The liberating news in this gospel is that the Reign of God has gotten rid of all hierarchies. “Epiphany” is the manifestation of “one of us,” a Nazarene who attends weddings, who celebrates life in togetherness. Jesus is showing us God’s glory, God’s sense of humor, God’s nearness, mingling. God is not an absentee landlord, the metaphysical god of the philosophers, the never-present father. No, Jesus will never say we are “too close for comfort.”
God is with us, my friends. And the God who turns water into wine is in the habit of transforming what we modestly have to offer into something important, perhaps even soul-satisfying. In a world being torn apart by power-seekers and wealth-hoarders, how will the God-revealed-in-Jesus shape the way you engage in the world? How does this impact the way we treat one another as a community of faith?
My prayer is that Jesus would turn my water into wine. I know I have little of real value to offer to God, little energy and understanding, morsels of compassion and kindness, but Jesus can do a lot with that. As a Church I know we can sometimes fixate on our problems and our own perspectives that we neglect to see how our actions or inactions are hurting others. Perhaps we might even think that holding on to our ceremonial water is more important than the thirsty family members at our feast?
Lord Jesus, turn our water into wine. Take our lack of understanding and grace, take our limited love and empathy, and infuse us by your Spirit that we may show forth your love and celebrate life together anew.
Comments