Jesus’ first miracle or “sign” in the gospel of John has always confused me. Every other sign in the gospel of John or miracle in Matthew, Mark, and Luke are signs and miracles of healing, casting out demons, raising people from the dead, providing food for hungry people, walking on water and calming storms to showcase the glory of God, or telling people the truth about themselves, truth that leads to spiritual growth. These signs and miracles are practical, or they lead those who witness them to say to Jesus: Truly, you are the son of God! The signs and miracles of Jesus meet real, raw human needs. And you know me: I dig that about Jesus. That God comes to Earth in the flesh and gets God’s hands dirty, really, actually dirty is about the most compelling thing I could ever say about God. God shows up to do the dirty work, not just the lofty spiritual stuff-though the spiritual tasks of providing hope and forgiveness and grace are by no means unimportant. But Jesus’ first sign in the gospel of John is changing water into wine at a wedding.
Jesus, Jesus’ mother Mary, and the disciples are guests at a wedding in Cana, a city in the region of Galilee. Mid-wedding, Mary notes to Jesus: “They have no wine.” Implying she wants him to do something about it. Jesus dismisses her statement, but later, he tells the servants to fill six large stone jars with water and to then serve it to the chief steward. When the chief steward receives it, he consumes the finest of wines and goes to the groom with some astonishment about the quality of wine held back until mid-party. The story concludes with the gospel writer lifting up the glory of God revealed in Jesus changing water into wine. There are lots of interesting theological questions to ask about this story: What is Mary’s role in identifying Jesus’ life purpose? How does Jesus know when it is “time” to reveal who he is? But mostly, what I want to know is: Why bother, Jesus? Why bother spending your miraculous, spiritual capital on changing water into wine at a wedding? Is that really important?
My answer to that question is, clearly, no. Ha! But since Jesus decided to go ahead and spend that miraculous, spiritual capital on changing water into wine and since Jesus is God in the flesh, I feel confident that I’m wrong. But it’s taken me years to accept what nearly every biblical scholar will tell you about the wedding at Cana: Jesus changes water into wine because he came to bring life, abundant life, and what is more full of life than a joyous wedding, the union of two families, the love of two people?
Nearly twenty years ago, I completed my summer unit of clinical pastoral education at Banner University Medical Center, then called Good Sam. For twelve weeks Monday through Friday, I rode the Valley Metro commuter bus from east Mesa to Good Sam. Five days a week, I visited at least 10 patients per day as a chaplain, attended deaths, prayed with people, and talked with them about their big, theological questions as they laid in their hospital beds. I slept at the hospital in the on-call room two nights a week and responded to trauma calls and codes. Part of my job was to call the family members of trauma room patients to let them know their loved one was in the hospital after, usually, some ghastly accident. I did things that scared me that I had never done before and then got good at them. In the world of seminary, clinical pastoral education is generally seen as bootcamp for pastors. Hard. Stressful. A slog you just have to get through. All the chaplains on staff that summer got to choose their units for regular visiting, and I specifically chose, among others, the post-partum units since I knew I would not be a mother and would need to understand the experience of mothers. Instead of visiting to discuss big, theological questions, I visited just to congratulate the new moms, to offer a blessing for the baby, to listen to their stories of birth, and sometimes to listen to their fears—though few needed or wanted to share those. Of all the hard things of that summer, this was the most difficult—for me—to simply be present for joy. At the end of the twelve weeks, my supervisor noted the same in my evaluation. She wrote: “This posed Sarah’s greatest challenge—how to celebrate blessing without having to work and struggle for it. She found herself in the middle of grace filled moments that asked nothing from her except the openness to recognize and celebrate it.”
When Jesus changes water into wine, the story does not end with an admonition to have faith or trust or believe or go and tell the good news. The disciples do not sit in wonder, and the crowds are not confused. At the end of this story, people are kicking back, drinking wine, eating good food, building relationships, celebrating family alliances. People are celebrating for Jesus comes to bring life, abundant life.
As noted by a commentator this week, abundant life is more than mere existence or survival and certainly more than an abundance of material things. And what I had to learn and am still learning is that abundant life is not just the product of a long, deep struggle or even a life of joyous service but also the grace God provides without us doing anything. The abundant life Jesus comes to share at the wedding in Cana is simply gift; he too enjoys a good party!
For us who are tired by the world, perhaps this is the time, after all we have endured, after all the work we have done, after all the loss we have suffered, perhaps this is the time to hear my supervisor’s words: “This poses our greatest challenge—how to celebrate blessing without having to work and struggle for it. We find ourselves in the middle of grace filled moments that ask nothing from us except the openness to recognize and celebrate it.” Even with a world gone wrong in so many ways, Jesus still comes to bring abundant life in ordinary moments. A sweet child who hugs our legs, an orange cat that curls up under our grapefruit tree, a courteous driver who waits and lets us onto a traffic-filled street, a truly helpful customer service representative, a friend who calls just to see how we’re doing. I suspect we have, to some extent, shut ourselves off from grace filled moments because we are exhausted. But actually, grace still abounds. Here, for you, for each one of us—if we but open ourselves to recognize and celebrate it. This week, Jesus changes water into wine—just to celebrate, just to bring abundant life, just because grace abounds—then and now. Thanks be to God! Amen.