"Miraculously Ordinary"

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Sunday, January 20, 2013

Gospel Reading: John 2:1-11

1On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. 2Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. 3When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, "They have no wine." 4And Jesus said to her, "Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come" 5His mother said to the servants, "Do whatever he tells you." 6Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. 7Jesus said to them, "Fill the jars with water." And they filled them up to the brim. 8He said to them, "Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward." So they took it. 9When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom 10and said to him, "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." 11Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.

Sermon:

My delightfully sarcastic cousin Lee got married this past October.  It was a true Texan country wedding: in the rustic backyard of my Aunt and Uncle’s house.  My Aunt had worked tirelessly transforming an arid central Texas landscape into the Garden of Eden.  A new stone pathway had been meticulously created one heavy stone at a time, until it reached the pristine white wooden gazebo where Lee and Luis would exchange vows. 

When I arrived a mere few days before the ceremony, their house was a flurry of activity: prepping reception favors, rushing back and forth to the reception hall to make it perfect.  I got myself all tangled up in chair covers and satin ribbon, filled vases with wildflowers for the many tables and mostly, repeatedly told my Aunt, “It looks beautiful.  It’s going to be wonderful.”

The evening of the rehearsal dinner, we sat at tables in the backyard while candles flickered like fireflies from mason jars strung up in the trees.  The air was perfect: not too warm, not too cool.  The wine was good, the laughter was easy, the big day was almost here!

Saturday morning we awoke and went outside to breathe some fresh air.  That fresh air was a chilly 40 degrees!  The temperature never wavered much above 45 or so the whole day, and I watched my cousin’s arms turn purple in her strapless dress as she said her vows.  But, though we thin-skinned Texans all shivered, it was beautiful.  The wedding happened.  And my Aunt nearly collapsed with relief.

When I read of Jesus’ first miracle, turning water into wine at the wedding of Cana, I picture Mary his mother to be very much like my Aunt Madelynn.  Sure, it wasn’t her family’s wedding, but she wanted it to go well just the same.  You can tell this because of her fabulous statement to her son.  Now, we all know, y’all, that Mother’s never just SAY something.  There’s the thing they say, and then there’s the thing they want us to be bright enough to get from what they’re saying. 

What Jesus’ mom Mary says is “Huh.  There’s not any wine left.”  The proper response from Jesus is not, “Oh really, guess they’ll have to get to an ABC store.”  Nor is it, “Well, yeah, they’re pretty rowdy already.  Might as well get the coffee going.”  Jesus knows what his mom really means (“Do something about it, son!”) and responds a bit petulantly, “Woman, what has that to do with you and me?”

Ooh, those be groundin’ words.  But Jesus is thirty, so she lets it slide.  Being a wise mom, she knows he’ll ultimately act on her unspoken request.  Which is why she tells the servants to “do whatever he tells them to.”  She knows that, though he talks back a little, he’ll follow through.  Jesus was raised to listen to his Mama.

And though he perhaps rolls his eyes a little, or worries about his first big show of glory, he tells those servants to go fill 6 purification jars with water to the brim.  That’s about 20-30 gallons of water each.  We know the rest of the story: evian becomes merlot, dasani becomes pinot grigio, water becomes wine.  And not just an old jug of Franzia or some cheap boxed wine.  This wine is prime vintage, full of a lovely bouquet of dewberry and cherry with subtle anise and tobacco flavors. 

Now, I could preach to you about the overflowing abundance of God, about how Jesus’ first act shows us the joy we’re meant to embody as his followers, rejoicing in his glory like newlyweds rejoice in their new life together.  But, I think we’ve all heard that before.  I want us to think about this text differently: not about the miracle itself, but about all of the things and people necessary for that miracle to take place.

First, of course, comes that slightly pushy Jewish mother.  I’m not sure what Jesus had in mind for his first miracle, but perhaps it was something a bit grander than being a glorified bartender.  Mothers know their children, though, and she knew (even if he didn’t) that Jesus was ready to show his true colors.  We all need a shove to become greater than we’re comfortable being or to live fully in our skin instead of cowering and waiting for “the right moment” to act. 

Once Mary planted the seed, it took root and Jesus decided there was no time like the present to reveal his glory.  He told some servants to fill 6 purification jars.

Here enter the other two factors in making this miracle happen: a handful of servants and some old dry jars.

But I can’t help but wonder…if this was Jesus grand debut, his big moment, why was he sharing the glory with servants?  Why have them be a part of the miracle at all?  Why not just make those jars magically float down to the river and fill themselves and then return to him?  Why even use jars at all, for that matter?  Why not just make the wedding guests’ wine glasses automatically, magically refill all on their own accord? 

Why the persistent mother and the divine hesitation, why the burdened servants, why the dry, old jars?

As you might expect, I have a theory.  I think Jesus used those jars and people to reveal something about his glory: that it is best experienced in community.  That miracles are their most potent when witnessed together.

I believe that the glory of God experienced in miraculous moments of overflowing, abundant joy, is not meant to be some isolated incident, like finally praying the exact right prayer to get the answer we really want. 

Even if we personally experience the miracle of a heart changed from bitterness to forgiveness, or a night of worry changed to a morning of fragile hope, or a dry, stale faith changed to a wellspring of new life within us, those miracles are never meant to stay “personal.” 

Like Jesus using the wisdom of a loving mother, the strength of ordinary servants and the symbols of an ancient faith to reveal the glory of God and pour out that glory to hundreds with each new sip, we are not to hoard our miracles.  Miracles are meant to be shared.

Each deserted hull of faith has the potential to run over with glory.  Each person just struggling from task to task has the potential to bear precious drops of love. 

It is tempting when reading of miracles like this one, especially when 1 in 6 people in our world do not have access to clean water and 15 million people in our country suffer from alcoholism, as a idealist, sweet story about a time when Jesus was on earth and God actually performed miracles, without waiting for the “right moment” to do them. 

If we expect miracles to fall out of the heavens like random rain on lucky souls, we will be waiting all of our lives.  For miracles never really happened that way, not even back in Jesus’ time when someone was always ready to write them down. 

But if we expect miracles to happen through ordinary people, through parents and children, through the poor and the powerful, through the willing and unwilling, through new cathedrals of faith and old remnants of tired religion, through a black Alabama preacher and the person who waves good morning to you each day, we will never cease experiencing them.   And, even more importantly, we will never cease participating in them. 

Thanks be to the God who chooses to make the ordinary holy, to the Son who listened to his Mama until all were filled with glory and to the Spirit who makes each moment, each day, miraculous.  Amen.