First Sunday in Lent
“Surprises” — Rev. Brent Gundlah
First Gospel Reading (John 2:1-11/NRSVUE)
Second Gospel Reading (Matthew 13:31-32/NRSVUE)
Not long after I decided to become a minister, both of my daughters made it very clear that they don’t want me to officiate their weddings; they’d prefer I just focus on being their dad that day, whenever it may happen — and that’s totally fine by me. But I do have a niece and five nephews, and I’ve been asked to preside at all of their weddings to date (three so far) — and that’s totally fine by me too. It’s an honor to be a part of these blessed occasions — and since I’m already there as a guest they might as well put me to work.
When my niece Marah got married on a Saturday night in St. Paul, Minnesota almost five years ago, I suited up in my clergy garb and did my part to make it official. And since we needed to be in town a day early for the rehearsal and all of the other pregame festivities I had a lot of free time on my hands so I ended up doing some other work too.
The event space they were using was pretty much a blank slate so they’d brought a bunch of stuff with which to decorate it. One of those items was a kit for a large octagonal wooden trellis that would be decked out with flowers and such; it would be set up at the back of the raised platform at the front where the happy couple, the bridesmaids, the groomsmen and I would be all standing.
I spent a bunch of time with my brother-in-law on the morning of the wedding deciphering the Ikea-like directions for this thing and trying to figure out which bolt went where in order to hold this contraption up. When we got done putting it together, there weren’t any parts left over, which seemed like a good thing, but I do remember thinking that the end product seemed a little wobbly and precarious which was not such a good thing.
When Saturday evening finally rolled around, we assumed our places up on that platform, just like we’d rehearsed it the night before. But with all of those decorations now there, there was a whole lot less room to maneuver in than I remembered — especially since there were about fifty bridesmaids and groomsmen in the wedding party (okay, I’m exaggerating a little but there was a whole lot of them).
After Marah entered, she and her spouse-to-be, Tyler, made their way towards me and I backed up to give them a little space. But as I did, I felt something under my right heel, which, as it turns out, was the base of the aforementioned trellis.
Had I made solid contact when stepped on that wooden block, it’s likely that no one would have noticed but me, but I didn’t, so they did. You see, my heel slipped off the base and crashed down to the floor, which made that eight foot tall trellis oscillate rather violently — you know, like one of those blow up things with arms that you often see outside of used car dealerships.
It didn’t end up falling (thanks be to God), but it was really terrifying for me, as the one person in the whole place who was looking outward at that point, to see a few hundred people’s eyes get as big as saucers as we all waited a few seconds for that trellis to stop shaking as if we were in the middle of an earthquake.
By about eight pm Marah and Tyler were married (though, in a legal sense, it was about midnight because, amidst all of the festivities, I couldn’t manage to track them down to sign their marriage license until then). And by the end of the evening everyone had enjoyed a wonderful evening, so no harm no foul, I suppose (though I still bear the brunt of some much-deserved kidding at family gatherings).
Now, I haven’t done a ton of weddings in my ministerial career, but I’ve done enough of them to know this: Something — be it large or small — inevitably goes wrong. And even though most people know deep down that this is true, there’s a lot of pressure for weddings to be absolutely perfect in every way. The unfortunate result of these two realities existing side by side is that a joyous occasion often ends up being a really stressful one too.
Things sure seem like they’re about to go a little off the rails at this wedding in Cana — you know, the one we heard about in today’s story from John’s Gospel. Jesus and his disciples had been invited to attend, as had Jesus’s mother (for some unknown reason, Mary is never actually referred to by name in John’s Gospel).
Back in those days, you didn’t have a reception after the ceremony and send everyone home a few hours later so you could jet off on your honeymoon; you threw a giant banquet for lots of people that lasted a full week. But there seems to have been a small glitch in the event planning here. Jesus’s mother — let’s just call her Mary even though John doesn’t — notices they’ve run out of wine, which is a big no-no in a culture like this one in which hospitality is unbelievably important.
I guess people expected weddings to be perfect way back then too, and this one was about to be far less than perfect. The hosts are about to look inept and inhospitable, and sending all of those guests home several days early wasn’t an option. The poor steward who was responsible for ensuring there was enough wine on hand is certainly going to have some explaining to do.
Mary sees the situation that’s about to unfold, but not wanting to embarrass anyone, she chooses to have quiet word with Jesus about it. Was she expecting him to do something about it or was she just making an observation? It’s hard to say; but, if Jesus’s response here is any indication, he seems to think she was asking him to do something — and he sure doesn’t seem very happy about it.
I say this because his answer to Mary here is a little rude. I mean, it’s bad enough to say “no” when your mom asks you to do something, but to begin your refusal by addressing her as “woman” is a risky choice. I mean, if I did that to my mother, I probably wouldn’t be standing here right now. John doesn’t tell us much about Mary’s reaction, but I bet she gave him one of those mom looks that no one ever wants to be on the receiving end of. All we do know is that Mary turns and says to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”
Despite his initial grumbling, Jesus seems to have a change of heart about helping out; he tells the servants to take the “six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons” and fill them with water. He then orders them to draw a sample off the top and take it to the steward who is surprised to discover that it has turned into wine (for those of you keeping track, those empty jars that Mary discovered are now filled with 120 to 180 gallons of wine, which ought to make for one heck of a party). And this clearly wasn’t the first century equivalent of Two Buck Chuck; indeed, as the shocked steward points out to the groom, this is “the good wine.”
The only people who seem to know what actually happened here — that Jesus somehow turned a whole lot of water into a whole lot of wine — are the servants, Mary, the disciples and, of course, us. Suffice it to say, the disciples are quote impressed by this first of Jesus’s signs (there will be six more of them in John’s Gospel).
Because of what Jesus does here, the disciples start to understand he’s something special; they see his glory revealed and believe in him, which is a pretty big deal. In addition, the newly-married couple, their families and their guests didn’t ever seem to notice there was anything amiss, and the steward, who was about to be in a whole heap of trouble, is off the hook too. And so this wedding ended up working out okay for everyone involved.
This is one of the most familiar stories in the Gospels, and for good reason (though, interestingly, John is the only one of the four who shares it): There’s the tension of the wedding banquet that’s about to go off the rails, there’s Jesus’s cringy treatment of his mother, and there’s the extravagant abundance that Jesus is at first reluctant to provide but then chooses to share though this miracle that not only saves the day, but also inspires the disciples to believe in him.
And yet, amidst all of this drama, we have the chance to observe something important about Jesus that all of that other stuff might cause us to overlook, which is this: He definitely appreciated the value of having a good time.
All of this got me to thinking about the things we do as a church. For example I, as your pastor, would love for everything that happens when we worship in this sanctuary to be perfect. But, like a wedding, it never is perfect; and I must confess that I tend to take that kind of hard.
Amidst of all society’s problems, amidst all of the world’s injustice and oppression and sadness and pain, amidst all the fear about what the future may hold, it always feels like we need to be doing more than we’re doing, to be doing better than we’re doing, to be trying harder than we’re trying in order to help to make things right. Don’t get me wrong, this is essential work — the kind of work that God has always called upon us to do. And it’s obvious that we still have a long way to go before things are made right. That’s a lot of pressure.
Then again, maybe God doesn’t expect us to be perfect. As the saying goes, the perfect is often the enemy of the good; and so maybe part of “the good” is actually allowing ourselves to lighten up and experience some joy both in here and out there, to laugh every once in a while — yes, even at ourselves; yes, even in trouble-filled times like these — and to know that God will always be there with us.
May we always strive to live into all that God is calling us towards;
may we always work for justice and feed the hungry and care for those in need;
may we always be grateful for all that God has shared with us and for all that Jesus gave for us;
and may we always remember to celebrate — with joy — our many blessings.