Water into Wine...Or Something More?

John 2:1-11

A few months back I stopped to call on a member of our congregation. It was intended to be just a short visit as I was dropping in on my way home for supper (and before an evening meeting). He was getting ready to leave early the next morning for surgery at a hospital a couple of hours away. Since my schedule would not allow me to see him before surgery the next day, I wanted to stop to pray with him and his wife then.

I was hardly in the door before John ushered me to the basement where he said he wanted to show me something. With a wave he pointed out the finishing work he had done on their rec-room. Woodworking is a skill he has developed and perfected since retirement. From there he took me into a back room to show me his wine making hobby. After explaining it to me step by step, with a huge smile he turned to me and said, "I would like to supply First Lutheran with our communion wine." Only he was also quick to point out that we would have to wait a year, for making wine takes time.

It is wisdom we know well, of course. Almost anything worth having takes time:

• Human infants develop in the womb for nine months --- and they develop for generations, really, if you think about the wondrous combination of characteristics which sort out over time to make up one unique human being. And as for human character --- this takes a lifetime, sometimes, to be shaped and to grow.

• Very few of us learn a new language or algebra or to play the piano or to play tennis in an instant. Rather, each takes months or years of discipline and practice to make it our own.

• The taste of my sourdough or rye bread does not develop in a matter of hours. Rather it takes days for them to ferment enough to gain their full flavor. 

• While some may claim to have experienced 'love at first sight,' relationships are grown and deepened and seasoned over time.

And yes, the truth of this came home to me again this week in matters of faith when I read a short piece about how 'the internet is killing religion.' In his writing for Huffington Post, Paul Wallace makes the unsurprising point that our constant use of internet is so shaping our minds that we are unable to pay attention to any one thing for the prolonged amount of time needed to appreciate it, or grow with it, or adapt to it or... and this takes a particular toll when it comes to our journeys of faith. 

This makes sense, of course. Indeed, I am working hard these days to reclaim the gifts of centering prayer which calls one to simply sit quietly for a set period of time, to breathe deeply, and to focus one's energy and attention on The Holy. So yes, at least in my own hard earned experience and observation, it is so that deepening faith also takes time.  

Almost anything worth having takes time.

Unless you are at the wedding which Jesus and his mother and his disciples attend in the wonderful account before us in today's Gospel. For there, as we know so well, the wine is not only made in an instant. The wine is also made in almost unimaginable abundance. And this wine is of the finest quality.

Now I have to say that I found myself both fascinated and a little disheartened as I scrolled down to read the comments which followed up that little article about the internet 'killing religion.' For while some were commiserating with the author, far more were gloating in their tone --- asking if it was such a bad thing that 'religion was being killed.'

And I wondered then at those who would respond to the writer's thoughts in this way. I wondered at what in their own journey had led them to offer such celebratory comments about the demise of something which is so precious to so many. And I wondered at how they must hear a story like the one that is ours to share this week. Of course, I hardly have to wonder, for I strongly suspect that they would take my deep love of this story as a sign of my ignorance. Or my unthinking faith.

For it is so that they are right if they insist that anything worth having takes time and that fine wine is simply not made in an instant.

And yet, I wonder now, if I were to engage in conversation with the skeptics, if I might get a little further by pointing out that perhaps the water turning into wine is not the main point of this story after all --- even if it appears to be the focal point of the miracle.

• Indeed, I wonder if the main point is that this all came to be on 'the third day' --- and this sudden abundance of fine wine is simply pointing to the abundance of life which is promised us all in Christ's Resurrection, which also took place 'on the third day.'

• Oh yes, I wonder if perhaps the main point might be that one of Jesus' first stops is at a wedding ---for wedding feasts are, over and over again, symbolic of the new age that God ushers in through Christ Jesus.

• And I wonder if maybe the main point is that in Jesus there is always more than enough. Always. Even or especially when our own human planning and provisions fall short.

• Oh I do wonder if the main point is that you and I are to enjoy and celebrate all the earthly gifts of God: for there is no mention of bottling up the wine to save it for later.

• And I wonder if the main point is that the wine was made in 'old jars' is a sign for us all of how God continues to use the old to do new things --- that the old can continue to be a vessel for God's Good Work (old churches, old traditions, old practices...)

It is not that I believe the water turning to wine is only metaphor. Rather, I wonder if it is even something more than that --- if it points to something far more significant than what we might first think. For you see, I think this first miracle of Jesus is so much more than a gift to enhance a wedding feast (and to cover up the inevitable embarrassment of the host.) Even this every abundant wine would only have lasted a few days. But changed hearts and changed lives? These last forever. And if this water turned into wine points to that? Well, now, that is something!

Indeed, I have seen this to be so even in the example of the promised communion wine for the congregation I now serve. For yes, it is so that the wine from John's basement will not be ready for another year. But in this one person of faith, I witnessed joy in great abundance at his dawning realization that something he does for fun could possibly be a gift for all and that in its being shared in this way it promises be a part of something holy which offers sustenance and forgiveness and joy. 

Indeed, maybe the wine itself is not the main point after all.

Now, I don't know how this plays with the nay-sayers who celebrate the demise of religion as we know it. And yet, the conversation about what the 'main point' is, is surely worth having. Maybe especially with those who have left it all behind. For I can't help but believe that we all yearn for abundance and for old gifts made new and for the certainty that even our human shortfalls are forgiven. I wonder if they also might hear this story as life-giving if we remember together that it is really not about the wine, but rather about how the abundance of God's gifts live and grow and multiply in our lives. What do you think?

• What do you think the 'main point' of this story is? Is it about the wine? Or is it about something more?
• Do any of my offerings above make sense to you? Why or why not?
• How does this story 'preach' in an age of skepticism? Is it helpful to hear it as a metaphor for something more or not?

On Wine and Weddings

John 2:1-11

I was out to lunch with a friend the other day.  It was noon on a Saturday and the restaurant was crowded.  After we sat down I looked up to notice the group at the next table.  There were four sitting there. The three women were knitting and the young man was looking on.  It's a little unusual to see a group of knitters out for lunch, so they especially caught my attention. One of the women was a little older, one appeared to be her daughter, and the third was sitting close to the young man.  I was trying not to eavesdrop at first, but the quarters were tight and they were speaking loudly to be heard over the din of the lunchtime crowd.  Soon I could hear they were talking wedding plans... and then the older woman began to tell the story of her own wedding day.  She spoke of the party that was held before the actual wedding itself, about the amount of alcohol consumed, and of how the whole wedding party was late getting to the church. (I cringed in behalf of the pastor who officiated that day.  I'm guessing that after that he found himself making the speech I've made for years at wedding rehearsals.  Pastors, you know the one --- where you remind those bright shining young people to please wait to party until after the wedding itself!)  And then she went on to talk about the 21 bottles of cognac which were served at the actual wedding reception.  From there, the details don't much matter, but as I leaned back in my chair I found myself wondering about how many of our wedding stories go like that.  How many of our stories center not so much on the ceremony itself, but on the celebrations which precede or follow the time at the church.  Indeed, how many of our stories: both those we tell and those we don't, carry memories of what was imbibed by the guests.

For it is also so in the wedding story that is ours to share in today.  The story here, too focuses not on the actual wedding itself but on what came later.  Only in this case, the wine gave out before it was time for the guests to go home.

So I find myself now thinking not so much of the potential embarrassment of the host, nor of the wonder of the guests who would have enjoyed that fine wine.  Rather, I am thinking of those on the edges of the normally main memory itself.  I am thinking today of those presumably strong young servants who carried the stone jars and filled them with water.  You know, those folks who would be standing on the edge of any wedding reception still today, waiting to serve, to clear, to carry the individually sliced pieces of cake to the tables of the guests.  Those same ones who, in the case of the story I overheard above, had the unenviable task of cleaning up after those who had enjoyed the party perhaps a little too much.   In Jesus' day, I expect they were the permanent underclass: those servants, those slaves.  In our day, perhaps this is also so.  It strikes me on this reading, though, that those servants on the edge of the celebration were the only ones to actually witness the miracle here.  To be sure, the chief steward tasted it, and apparently his taste buds were still sensitive so he was able to enjoy the fine quality of the wine.  And the bridegroom and the bride and all their guests enjoyed the gift of the miracle before us now.  Still, it was the servants who saw this wondrous miracle of abundance play out right before their eyes.  It was the servants who saw it all  --- those who most likely never actually even got a sip of the 180 gallons of fine wine that was now being stored in those stone jars.  Indeed, they were, they are those who go mostly unseen, un-noticed by the rest of us.  And yet, they are the ones who went home with a story that night.  They are the ones who first glimpsed the promise of Jesus.  They are, indeed, as we hear throughout the Gospels --- they are  the ones for whom the gifts of God are especially meant.  And so whether they ever tasted this wine or not, they must have gone home with the dawning recognition that in the simple act of 'saving' a party, the world itself was about to change in Christ Jesus. Indeed, in Jesus the world itself was about to change.

1. Do you think there is any significance to the apparent truth that the servants were the only ones to actually witness this first miracle of Jesus first hand?  Why or why not?
2. Why 'water into wine?'  What other Biblical references to 'wine' might help us to go deeper into this story?
3. Can you think of other examples when the presumably 'main memory' was not the main memory at all?  Can you think of other times when unexpected folks have received an unexpected gift of God's grace?