The Real Miracle

The Marriage at Cana by Paulo Veronese.  Whom do you focus on in the painting?

January 17, 2015

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: “The Real Miracle”

“Seen, but not heard,” pretty well describes my life.  You see, at a young age, I was sold by my poor family who couldn’t provide for me.  I no longer belonged to them or myself.  I was a slave, serving a wealthy family in Cana.  I think I maybe spoke two words that entire first year.  Eventually, another slave girl in the household befriended me.  We would snatch moments of conversation (and – I’ll be honest – catch up on the gossip of the household), but most of the time, we were to just stand there by our wealthy owners, in case they needed anything.  Think Downton Abbey with zero pay and no fancy china!

Eventually, the years started to merge into a haze of work and, all of a sudden, I saw a young woman looking back at me in the mirror.  The only bright spots in my mundane life were special occasions: visits by honored guests, feast days and weddings.  There’s one wedding in particular I’ll never forget.

That wedding looked like it would be a disaster.  The worst thing that could happen in a wedding celebration had occurred (no, not the bride running away): we were out of wine!  A wedding celebration without wine was like a camel without a hump; we had to do something.  Several of the other slaves went searching in the stores for any drops of vino remaining, while the steward just smiled with a plastic, forced grin, trying to keep calm as he watered down glasses (and hoped no one would notice).

It just so happened that I was hovering in the background (seen but not heard, remember?) when a very surprising conversation occurred.  A guest named Mary figured out what was going on.  I had a feeling few things got past her.  Anyway, she turned to her son, a bearded, scraggly fellow with other bearded, scraggly fellows around him, and said, “They have no wine.”  The weird thing is, it didn’t come across as a complaint.  It sounded like a request, like she expected him to do something about it.  He responded like a teenager who didn’t want to go to school, “Woman, what concern is that to you and me?  My time has not yet come.”  She ignored this little outburst, and instead walked over to me (at which point, I pretended I hadn’t been eavesdropping).  “Do whatever he tells you,” she said. 

I suppose Mary knew that mothers nearly always get their way.  True enough, Jesus walked up to me a few minutes later.  He seemed torn – almost like he knew that the action he was about to do would change how people saw him forever.  He gestured to the purification jars and told us to fill them with water.  It was a big job – these jars were huge.  But, as was usual for us, we did as we were asked.

We filled those jars and brought them to him.  I wish I could say there was an “abracadabra” or a flash of light, but there wasn’t.  He simply said, “Draw some out and give it to the steward.”  When we did, we were shocked!  You know the story I’m sure: it had turned into rich, fine wine.

The steward was dumbfounded, but we knew what had happened.  In your book it says, “the steward did not know where the wine had come from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew).”  I wonder if you’ve ever noticed that before?  I’d imagine not.  You’ve probably focused on Jesus in the story, or on Mary, or on the wine itself. 

We servants are still seen but not heard.  I’m not trying to make you feel guilty for ignoring us.  I just don’t want you to miss something really significant: Jesus’ first miracle wasn’t initially witnessed by our wealthy owner, the bridegroom or the steward.  It was witnessed by us.  And not just witnessed by us…we helped make that miracle happen.  No servants, no water; no water, no wine.

Jesus, the Word made flesh, performed the first of his signs using us.  He chose to involve us – the lowest of the low – in that joyful, abundant offering at that celebration of love.  I think he still does.  He still performs signs and wonders in this world, but so often it happens through people that society is too busy keeping in their place.  People who are seen but not heard. 

People like the homeless veteran asking for change, who still prays every day.

People like the single mom working three jobs so her kids can have the education she never had.

People like the young boy who has to do his homework in a home without heat, but still does it.

People like the teenager struggling with crippling depression and anxiety, who feels she can’t admit it to anyone, and yet supports her friends wholeheartedly.

People like the unemployed middle-aged man who, though he was raised to hate people who didn’t have his same skin color, chose a path of love instead, and taught his children that path. 

People like the old woman, tucked away and forgotten in a nursing home, who finds reasons to be grateful for life every single day.

Do you want to see the miraculous things Jesus of Nazareth is doing?  Then go to the people who are seen but not heard.  Go and listen to them.  Go, not to solve their problems or use your influence to better their lives, but to recognize their value as human beings, and watch the barriers between you fall away.

Nothing against that tasty wine, but I don’t think the real miracle at that wedding was fancy booze.  I think the miracle was that Jesus made us slaves a part of God’s astonishing work on earth. 

I wish I could say my life became better after that; truth be told, it didn’t.  I worked my entire life for that family, with little thanks, no pay and shabby living conditions. 

But on my worst days, days when I longed to see my mother’s face again and wondered what my siblings looked like grown up, I remembered that, once upon a time, God came to a wedding and worked a miracle, and I was a part of it. 

Amen.