“Wedding at Cana” on John 2:1-11 by Joe Ellis — January 19, 2025

Once, this passage really came to my rescue. We used to live in the parsonage, which is the house directly behind the church. In 2018 we moved into where we are now, and a lot of people from the church were kind enough to help us move. One of my hobbies is brewing wine and beer — it's not something I hide, but it also isn’t something I advertise that loudly. I remember feeling sort of outed as I stood watching the youth group carry in about 20 gallons of my wine to our new house (you need a surplus of wine because it needs to age properly). Mike watched this procession of carrying box after box of the pastor’s wine and he needled me in a good-natured way — a way that only Mike can do — I remember responding, “Hey! Jesus’ first miracle was turning water into wine!” I share this memory partly not simply because it's really loosely connected to this passage and dubiously justifies my hobby of home-brew — but more because the memory fills me with joy. It was a memory of joy in which my friends and community gathered around to support our family in a small transition. A small sign of the Kingdom coming for our family.

You’ll notice that throughout the Gospel of John, John doesn’t call events like these ‘miracles.’ He calls them ‘signs.’ They’re signs because their significance isn’t simply on their own — although it is a truly lovely story of a gratuitous and unexpected fulfillment of joy. A sign points beyond itself, it points to something larger. Yet, the sign itself is certainly significant, after all a dilapidated run down sign outside a restaurant would tell you something about that restaurant. So, we are going to look at this sign to see what it reveals to us about God and His Kingdom.

First let’s set the scene. Here we are, in Cana – a small, little known village that was about 16 kilometres from Nazareth. Jesus and his disciples had been invited to a wedding. His mother is there as well. (As an aside, we won’t meet her again in John’s Gospel until we find our way to the foot of the cross.) But now we are at a wedding feast — these feasts were huge occasions. They could go on for up to a week and were a spectacularly joyful event, not only for the wedding couple, but for the family and the village as a whole. It’s the culmination of so much anticipation and planning. The bride had just been brought from her father’s home to that of her husband in a joyful procession. She was wearing a bridal veil, surrounded by her bridesmaids. When she united with her husband, the two were crowned with garlands. Together, they signed the marriage contract, and then the feast wedding commenced. Their joy was complete, they did not need to worry about a thing — well, except they did need to worry about the wine. Yes, much more thought should have put into how much wine to order. That was really unfortunate for the bride and groom. After all, the wedding feast was a village affair, the whole community was out. The shame and humiliation that went with running out of wine is probably hard for us to register. Most modern wedding guests probably would not see running out of wine as a black mark on the newlywed's marriage — most of us would probably just think, “Looks like we drank all their wine.” Perhaps the bride and groom would think, “You drank all the wine already — what a bunch of lushes!” But not so for this this couple. Their wedding feast was about to nose dive with far reaching consequences — like it or not; this would have implications for the rest of their lives. This sort of black mark would follow them with comments like: “Their marriage is probably going to dry up as well, just like their wedding feast…”

Let’s remember, this is a sign, and a sign points beyond itself. The biblical scholar Clinton Arnold notes, “In John, running out of wine at the Cana wedding may be symbolic of the barrenness of Judaism. Prophetic expectation cast the messianic age as a time when wine would flow freely.”

This reminds me certainly of what Paul spells out in Romans 2:17-24 in which Paul is reflecting that his people, the Jews, have run out of wine. He says, “Now you, if you call yourself a Jew; if you rely on the law and boast in God; if you know his will and approve of what is superior because you are instructed by the law; if you are convinced that you are a guide for the blind, a light for those who are in the dark, an instructor of the foolish, a teacher of little children, because you have in the law the embodiment of knowledge and truth (in other words, Paul is saying, you are the ones who are supposed to be flush with wine) — you, then, who teach others, do you not teach yourself? You who preach against stealing, do you steal? You who say that people should not commit adultery, do you commit adultery? You who abhor idols, do you rob temples? You who boast in the law, do you dishonour God by breaking the law? As it is written: ‘God’s name is blasphemed among the Gentiles because of you.’”

Paul’s point here is not that the Jews are so much worse than everyone else — rather, his point is that they are just like everyone else! They were to be the one’s who were flush with wine — a picture of joy and divine blessing. They were to be the ones to welcome outsiders (Gentiles) into the wedding, to invite them into the true celebration and festivity. Instead, they have run out of wine! They’ve dried up like everyone else!

Let’s keep looking at the sign at the Wedding at Cana. So Mary, the mother of God, approaches Jesus. She tells him the problem: “They have no wine.” Jesus’ response, is surprising. Here is a literal translation: “Woman, what do you have to do with me? My hour has not yet come.” Some translations try to soften Jesus’ words with, “What does your concern have to do with me?” And that certainly gets at some of what Jesus is saying, but Jesus does have a fairly harsh response. The impact of these words is that he is distancing himself between himself and his mother. The Catholic biblical scholar, Francis Moloney frames Jesus’ words in this way: “a world exists between Jesus and God, and the mother of Jesus is outside that world. The words of Jesus in v. 4 firmly informs his mother that such is the case. It is a gentle rebuke that keeps her in her place.”

This is interesting. In the first chapter of this Gospel, John basically tells us that Jesus has come to bring wine both to his people, the Jews, and to the rest of the world. It's only in the first chapter that John uses the imagery of light and life instead of wine. John 1:9-13 says, “The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God — children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.”

In Jesus’ words to his mother, “Woman, what do you have to do with me?” — we see Jesus defining Himself sharply. Jesus is the Son of the Father. He is not under obligation to humans to be anything other than who He is — which is the Eternal Word of God. He is not under obligation to be His mother’s son; He is not under obligation to help out these wedding guests; He is not under obligation to restore Judaism to life; He is not under obligation to be a light to those in darkness.

Although the Word came to be light to those in darkness — Jesus, the eternal Word, is not under obligation to you or me. This constantly calls us into a posture of humility when we pray. When we pray, we recognizing that the Eternal Word may choose to respond to our requests in His wisdom by saying no or not yet. He teaches us how to pray saying, “not my will, but your will be done.”

Despite not being obligated to act, Jesus does act. Despite not being obligated to act on the request of His mother, despite not being obligated to act on behalf of the wedding guests, despite not being obligated to come and bring life to His people, despite not being obligated to be light to the World — the Eternal Word chooses to act on our behalf. He responds to the request of His mother, He saves the wedding, He invites His people into His life, He overcomes the World’s darkness with His Eternal Light. The Eternal Word of the Father acts on our behalf not because He has to, but because He chooses to. The gift of Life on offer to you from the Father, Son and Holy Spirit is a pure gift. A gift given without coercion or obligation.

And so we know how the story unfolds. Jesus’ mother tells the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” (A model of trust for all future followers of Jesus to emulate) — and Jesus acts. The servants receive their instructions from the Word made flesh: they fill the stone jars that were made for ceremonial washing with water. Then they draw out the water and take it to the master of the banquet. At some point, the water is transformed into wine. The master receives the wine, not knowing where it had come from and he says to the bridegroom: “Everyone brings out the choice wine first and then the cheaper wine after the guests had too much to drink; but you have saved the best till now.” And of course, remember this is a sign — and of course this sign has significance in itself (it is wonderful that Jesus, the Eternal Word, had compassion on this humble wedding in that wayside village of Cana so many years ago).

Yet, the Sign points beyond itself. The Sign points to the reality that all the wine that God has poured out throughout the Old Testament — the glorious Covenants, the Prophecies, the Mighty Stories of God’s actions on behalf of His people — all that pales in comparison to what the Almighty Father is doing now through His Eternal Word, His only begotten Son, Jesus of Nazareth, the Messiah. That the Son should pours out his blood to atone for the barrenness of His people, and raise us to newness of life so that we feast with Him in the true Wedding Feast — the Feast between the Messiah and His Bride, The Church. Yes, the Wedding at Cana is a sign that the best is yet to come.

Now, in closing, I have two invitations about how to respond to this passage. First — let’s hear the story of the Wedding at Cana in light of Jesus’ words in John 14:12, Jesus said “Very truly I tell you, whoever believes in me will do the works I have been doing, and they will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father.” In essence, Jesus invites us to model our lives after His, to use the power that the Father has given us in similar ways. So, at the wedding at Cana we see Jesus using His power on behalf of those who are dried up and barren. We see Jesus using His power on behalf of the dried up, even though Jesus had no obligation to do so.

Last week I was inviting us to consider whether we had an obligation to help others, given the sinful legacy of our ancestors. You may choose to reject that reasoning, and there are many Christians who do. That’s fine. Yet what we cannot reject is that Jesus calls us to consider the power that we have been given — and we are called to use that power to advance His Kingdom on behalf of the “least of these.” In the name of Jesus Christ, we are called to use our power to bring light, life, wine and joy to the powerless. Consider the different types of power (the resources, or gifts, or strengths or abilities) that God has given you. How is Jesus calling you to use this power on behalf of those who have less?

And here is an invitation from the other side of the coin. Sometimes we are acutely aware that our cup has run dry. There are times when we realize that our cup is absolutely empty, that we have run empty, that we have nothing to give. That we have a spiritual thirst far deeper than we knew was possible. If that captures you (as to some degree it captures all of us… we all thirst), I’d like to offer you an image, perhaps a sign, that has given me comfort.

As a wedding gift, my brother requested a coptic iconographer in Egypt to draw for me this image of the Wedding of Cana. Recently I have been contemplating this image. I have found it a gift to have an image to guide me into prayer. In this image, I have been particularly captured by the figure of the man, third from top. Notice him there, holding up his empty cup to Jesus. I have been drawn to his eyes, implore Jesus for help. These eyes that acknowledge that Jesus is under no obligation to fill his cup, yet they plead for Him to draw near. My heart has resonated with those eyes. And I have been drawn to his action as well — that humble act of raising his cup to Jesus, quietly saying, “I thirst. I am so thirsty. Please Lord, fill my cup.” My own heart resonates with His heart. His prayer has become my prayer, as it may be your prayer as well. “Please Lord, fill my cup.” This prayer that He might come and fill my cup with Himself. Perhaps this might be our prayer together, as we gather around the Lord’s Table. This is a recognition that He who turned water into wine also turns wine into Himself. May He fill our hearts with Himself as we lift our cup to Him in trust and in thirst. Amen.