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| "The Marriage at Cana" G. David (Dutch c. 1500) |
Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee and revealed his glory, and his disciples believed in him. (John 2:11)
As a general rule, I
really like weddings. I don’t do quite as many of them now as I did back in the
early days of my ministry (I’m not sure why—I wonder if it has anything to do
with that freakin’ Universal Life Church popping out “ordinations” for wedding
officiants like a Pez dispenser!), but I always enjoy weddings when they come
along. It seems a wedding is the only occasion which can get a Millennial or a
Gen Z into a suit and tie. That’s cause for jubilation right there.
Putting aside my own nuptials,
I think my favorite wedding was one I officiated back in September of 2023 when
I got to marry Michaela—a brilliant, cheerful, and talented young lady from my
congregation—to Joe, a decent, hard-working paramedic. Joe and Mickey (as I
call her) are a splendid pair of human beings. They’re kind, thoughtful,
intelligent, and absolutely others-centered. They were high school pals who
became sweethearts, dated through their college years, and they fit together
like chocolate on a pretzel. They plighted their troth on a lovely, sunny fall
day in an outdoor ceremony with lots of friends and family looking on and
beaming beatifically with joy in their union. Since I’ve been Mickey’s pastor
ever since she was a tiny little girl, I was pretty gleeful myself.
But then a strange
feeling came over me as she was reciting her vows (Actually, she didn’t so much
recite as extemporize. She’s good at doing things at the last minute). I
suddenly realized that the little girl I’d known for a quarter of a century was
now an adult woman. I was certainly very proud of her, but I also couldn’t help
but feel a certain sadness as if I’d somehow lost something. After the
ceremony, the father of one of the bridesmaids (another kid I’d watched grow to
maturity) came up to me and, as if reading my mind, simply said, “Well, they’re
all grown up now.”
Yes. They’re grown now,
and the place in their lives occupied by parents and grandparents and even
their pastor has shifted. Two have become one, and however close or important
we might’ve felt to the newlywed, we have to accept we have been ever so
slightly demoted. We all have to take one step back in importance. A wedding is
a new start, but it’s also—in a way—an ending.
I guess this is why Jesus
in our Epiphany 2 Gospel lesson (John 2:1-11) is somewhat reluctant to reveal his
glory at the wedding at Cana. When his mother asks him to do what seems to be
impossible, his reaction is to say, “My hour is not yet come[i].” Maybe he just wants to
enjoy a little more time in anonymity. Yes, John has proclaimed him the Lamb of
God, and yes, he has begun to gather disciples, but so far there haven’t been
any extraordinary signs pointing to the fact that he’s the hoped-for Messiah. I
think Jesus knows that when he starts showing such miraculous signs, everything
will change, and his life and the lives of those who love him will never be the
same. Faith will be gained, but something will also be lost.
But here was a need to be
met. If the wine at the wedding ran out too soon, the family could be disgraced[ii]. Jesus had to do
something, so he revealed his glory, and his disciples believed in him. His
hour had come after all—whether he wanted it to or not.
Our evangelist John tells
us this was the first of Jesus’ signs. I think the term “sign” is interesting
if we look at it like it’s a road sign pointing the way somewhere. To get hung
up on the miracle of water turned to wine is to miss the point. It would be
like staring at a road sign but paying no attention to the location to which
that sign directs us. Weddings are moments of transformation. Two become one,
family relationships change, Jesus took the ordinary bath water and turned it
into vin rose. But everyone’s relationship to Jesus changed, too. He
wasn’t just a journeyman rabbi. Now he was possibly the Messiah. Now there was
a mystery to be imagined about what he would do and what could happen because
of him. Now the disciples had to decide what was expected of them, and we have
to decide what is expected of us.
Everything changes. Joe
and Mickey got married and now are wonderful and caring foster parents. Parents
become grandparents. Kids grow up. Workers retire. Times change. New things are
invented, and old, familiar things vanish. But we have brought the world’s
greatest change agent to this wedding party. Jesus is with us.
Faith teaches us that
every moment of transition is an opportunity for blessing. Something is lost,
but something new is being created. Traditional churches may be closing, but I
believe something new and wonderful is emerging. We are yet to taste the good
wine.
[i]
Verse 4 reads: “And Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, what concern is that to you and
to me? My hour is not yet come.’” Just for the record, if I’d ever addressed my
mom or my wife as “Woman,” I think they’d both slap the taste out of my mouth. I
don’t know how Jesus got away with it.
[ii]
Both my Harper Collins Bible Dictionary and Readers Digest Illustrated
Dictionary of Bible Life and Times agree that your basic wedding in Jesus’
day should last about a week. You could go longer if you were able, but seven
days called for a LOT of vino!
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