Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 2nd Sunday after Epiphany, John 2:1-11

This is the first time since I started writing these “Monday Meditations” that the Gospel text is something I’ve previously published on — like not on my own website, but in an actual book.

John 2:1-11

Back in 2015 I had the privilege of writing the “Theological Perspective” essay on John 2:1-12 for Feasting on the Gospels. The book gave four essays from different academic and pastoral perspectives on every passage of the Gospel. This was a follow-up series to the well-received Feasting on the Word which did the same for every passage used in the Revised Common Lectionary.

I just went back and re-read what I wrote. I’m glad to say I still quite like it.

Jesus’ Glory

It is the story of the wedding at Cana. Back then I focused on the comment at the end that this first miracle of Jesus “revealed his glory” (John 2:11) It is the quiet glory of the incarnation, as the Word made Flesh blesses and makes holy the ordinary things Jesus attends to:

• the everyday institution of marriage
• the relation between himself as a son and his mother Mary
• the human needs of a host who didn’t plan for the feast very well
• the usually-ignored servants who end up as the only witness to the miracle.

Even the basic elements of stone and water are blessed and made holy by being the bearers of the miraculous sign.

All this is still true, and still worthy of meditation.

What I note today, however, are two things, one of which I mentioned in that essay and one of which I did not.

Jesus’ Generosity

The one I mentioned, is the sheer laughably exuberantly generous nature of the miracle.

Jesus could have been stingy. He could have turned just enough water into just enough wine. The bridegroom would have saved face and the guests would have been happy. And it would have been just as much a miracle. His disciples, at the end, would still be inspired to believe.

The stingy way, I’m sorry to say, is often the Christian way. We grudgingly help, donate, fund the project. Yes, we provide something for the soup kitchen — hot dogs or baloney sandwiches maybe. Not quite as nice as we’d probably serve our own family.

But the stingy way was not, at all, Jesus’ way. Think about it:

• 6 stone water jars, 20 to 30 gallons each, filled to the brim.
• That’s 120 to 180 gallons of water turned to 120 to 180 gallons of wine.
• That’s a minimum of 605 modern 750 ml. bottles of wine
• That’s a minimum of 50 cases of wine, with 12 bottles each.

Your takeaway?

When Jesus provides for a human need, say even a fairly non-critical need like wine at a wedding reception, Jesus goes absolutely overboard with generosity.

He made so much wine that they must have had a hard time knowing what do do with it all.

It’s the same generosity you see at the feeding of the 5000. Five loaves and two fish feed 5000 people — and there are TWELVE BASKETS full of leftovers.

If Jesus provided 50 extra cases of wine halfway through a wedding reception, what might we do for the hungry, the homeless, the refugee?

Jesus Saves the Best for Now

The second thing that strikes me today, and the thing I frankly didn’t even comment on in Feasting on the Gospels, is the astonished  reply of the steward on tasting the miraculous wine:

…But you have kept the good wine until now.” (John 2:10 NRSV)

There is, of course a funny bit, a humanly honest assessment, when we read the full comment:

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.” (John 2:10 NRSV)

The steward is basically telling the bridegroom that he’s a bit of a doofus: if he had this good stuff he should have brought it out when the party started, when people still had working tastebuds and active brains.

But the steward doesn’t know that this is miracle wine. This is the gift of redemption, the direct action of God Incarnate to bless a marriage, a host, a celebration.

He does not know that it is miracle wine. He just knows that it is good.

And that is a wonderful comment on every gift of redemption. We look around at life, thinking the party is about to wrap up — but because of Jesus, here is this marvelous gift.

You thought you were dying. But here you have this extra day, this opportunity to enjoy one another, make broken things right, and live into wholeness. Isn’t this day golden?

You have kept the good wine until now.

You thought there was no hope, a career in a shambles, stability and security to be rebuilt from scratch. But then you begin to discover your abilities, your strength, God’s provision. The rediscovery of who you are, and what you can do — it is amazing, and you might have missed it.

You have kept the good wine until now.

You thought addiction was going to be the end of you — relationships destroyed and so much more. But then you found a 12 Step program. God seemed to take you by the hand, and lead you to sanity. You learned new ways of living in the program, and you are happier than you ever were before. You find yourself telling your group that you actually thank God for your addiction because of what you have learned in recovery.

You have kept the good wine until now.

What is lost is truly lost. Grief over the past is very real. And yet, redemption is real too. Strangely, generously, abundantly, Jesus provides. The new wine of redemption does not make you drunk and forget the sorrow. But it does make you aware of real, new, and otherwise impossible joy that could only come now.

You have kept the good wine until now.

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