Isaiah 62:1-5 Psalm 36:5-10 1 Corinthians 12:1-11 John 2:1-11
When a stranger first spots my collar, there is a range of familiar responses. I’m amazed how often I am asked if *this* is real, or if I am on my way to a fancy dress party (if there is a fancy dress party at lunchtime on some random Wednesday and I’m invited, I will go full Mother Superior and won’t just turn up in a dog collar). I also get asked ‘are you religious then?’, and the old ‘I didn’t know women could be priests’, and somewhere in the top ten of things I’m asked is whether I can turn water into wine. Honestly. So, this gospel passage feels more familiar than many.
I love this story. I love the imagery it stirs up; the wedding, Jesus, his mama and disciples, the wine, water jars, and then the first of Jesus’ great signs; the overflowing abundant outpouring of the very best wine, not for any lasting purpose, but simply for pure joy. I love that Jesus’ first sign reveals his glory in this way.
And I love that Jesus didn’t change water into wine because he was a lover of wine, but because he is a lover of people; He cared about the bride and groom; he cared about how they would feel if they became *that* couple – the poor ones – the embarrassed ones – the ones who couldn’t provide for others.
And what demonstrates the abundance of the God we follow more than this; Jesus doesn’t just make a few bottles, until they can buy some more. He makes 180 gallons of wine – around 900 bottles – enough and some to share – enough for this party, and the next – enough to remember forever that lavish gift from the carpenter Jesus (could this be the God-man?).
And here’s what I love the most, the most Jesusy thing about it all.
We’re on day 3 of a 5 day wedding festival; everyone is drinking; Jesus could’ve served something mediocre, but he serves up the equivalent of the best champagne in the land. And that is what God is like – abundant, extravagant, always outdoing us with grace and blessings. We come grovelling, daring to hope for a tiny sip of vaguely fermented grape juice and Jesus pours out bottles of champagne. Always waiting to give us more than we can ever ask or imagine.
Jesus’ actions changed a wedding. It turned stone jars of water into bottles of the finest wine. And it speaks of so much more; an audacious claim from our Lord, that, by doing whatever Jesus tells us, we can be transformed too. Just as Jesus can change water into wine, so He can change us from our broken humanity, into people of holiness, wholeness and beauty. And just as Jesus can change us, so He and we, together, can change the world.
And on this Aboriginal Sunday, we might dare to believe we could partner with Jesus to heal the wounds of history, to rebuild the land and relationships that greed and domination and fear has damaged and destroyed; that the water of this land might be changed to the abundance of the best wine, because that is the whisper of the promise we hear from Christ in this passage.
And that is the real miracle: not that Jesus changed water into wine, but that Jesus can change us, our past, present and future, from broken to whole, from fearful to bold, from hurt to healed, from alone to belonging, and that this happens simply by doing whatever he tells you; handing it all over to Jesus and allowing Him to abundantly do whatever He chooses.
This message of water and wine brings me, every time, back to the altar and the mass. As the priest lays up the table for our meal you might hear us mumble private prayers to God. As the chalice is filled with wine and then dashed with water, so I pray, ‘through the mystery of this water and wine, may we share in the divinity of Christ who humbled himself to share in our humanity’.
May we share in the divinity, just as, or because, Christ shared in our humanity.
Water; the symbol of humanity.
Wine; the symbol of divinity, Godliness.
So in the bringing of the water jars to Jesus we discover we can bring all our humanness – our best and worst bits – and trust Jesus to take them and change them into pure holiness. And all of that is contained at every mass, in the mystery of the chalice.
Within the water and wine, we meet a God, in Christ, who longs to be in relationship with us; who longs to give good things to all people, with nobody excluded. We meet a Christ who takes something and makes abundantly more. And in the outpouring of the chalice we get to encounter Him again and again, every single time.
In this story we see a God who can and will transform the ordinary into something that is the very best, and we hear a God inviting us to be transformed too. And as we approach this altar, we partake in this story too – we become like the water jars; we who are human, place ourselves in God’s hands and, in consuming the Christ, we become more of who we are created to be. We exchange our humanity for divinity and, in turn, become more fully human.
In a way it is crazy; it’s hard to comprehend, which is why we take and eat and drink and do this physical act, because simply trying to figure it out in our minds alone is impossible. But the message is clear really; do whatever he tells you and, in doing so, you will be changed, and changed to change the world.
So, today, as we eat and drink, may we remember that; may we respond to that; and, may we say an enormous yes to these abundant gifts from God – that God’s glory might be further revealed, and that many more may believe in God. Amen.
Holy Adventures 