God of surprises
Epiphany 4
29 January 2017
The Revd Jenny Wilkens
1 Kings 17:8-16
1 Corinthians 1:18-31
John 2:1-11
http://www.stlukesinthecity.org.nz/sermons_pid_22.html
My nephew Elijah, or Eli as we call him, has just started his first paying afterschool job at the local supermarket. He’s excited about the pay, of course, but
really it’s the lowest of the low at this stage, the delights of shelf-stacking!
I’m reminded of the supermarket employee who got it wrong – where the sign
said water, there they stacked wine bottles, and someone cheekily put another
sign up, saying simply “Jesus was here”!
And then of course there is the wedding party who were a bit choosy – we see
the wine steward coming back to Jesus, saying, um, Jesus, actually the guests
would prefer a Merlot – could you just do that miracle all over again?
Today our Gospel account of Jesus turning water into wine is chosen as part of
our Epiphany revelation of Christ; as John concludes: Jesus did this, the first of
his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed
in him (2:11).
But too both the Gospel and our reading from the Hebrew Scriptures well
illustrate the truths Paul is trying to get across to the Corinthians who held
rather too high an estimation of themselves, their wisdom, gifts and spirituality.
In the face of this, Paul affirms that God takes those who are weak and foolish
in this world’s eyes and uses them in ways that raise them up in the sight of
those who think they can use their strength and worldly wisdom to wield power
and control over others. And there is no greater illustration of this than the
powerlessness and seeming foolishness of the crucified Christ, at the mercy of
the powers of empire and religious authority, who yet in absorbing all that is
thrown at him, in one great act of self-giving love, becomes for us ‘wisdom from
God, righteousness, sanctification and redemption’ (1 Cor. 1:30).
Paul uses words of many syllables to describe deep mysteries, and yet I love the
way our other two readings tell two such homely domestic stories. True they are
stories of great contrast – one, a story of near tragedy in time of drought and
famine; the other a village celebration, with almost tragi-comic elements as we
see the anxious family members trying to avert the shame of their over-thirsty
guests –perhaps Jesus created the problem by bringing all his disciples along to
the party? In both stories, there is a lack to be addressed, a risk to be taken, of
acting foolishly, acting out of trust and belief.
You have to admire the widow of Zarephath, vulnerable and powerless in her
culture, solely responsible for the welfare of her child, and yet willing to offer
hospitality to this strange prophet from Israel. Elijah is to her a foreigner,
Zarephath is between Tyre and Sidon in present day Lebanon. He demands
hospitality from her, seeming to have heard from God that she will feed him,
and yet she doesn’t seem aware of the deal, this is news to her! She responds
with honesty but also fatalism – she is preparing for death, hers and her child’s.
Elijah offers both reassurance – ‘Do not be afraid’ – but also challenge: to take
the risk to do what seems foolish in the world’s eyes, to put this visitor before
her own child in offering him ‘a little cake’ or as the Jerusalem Bible puts it, ‘a
little scone’. She is being asked to trust this prophet and the prophet’s God who
promises provision for the future, and more than that the promise of life.
In our Gospel it is another older woman, Mary, Jesus’ mother, perhaps also a
widow by this time, who serves as a catalyst for risk-taking action, and for faith.
She comes to Jesus to avert the crisis of this social disaster of the wine running
out. But now we hear what sounds to us a rude and almost brutal riposte from
Jesus: ‘Woman, what concern is that to you and to me?’ We know that
‘Woman’ was a term of respect, but it still sounds to us like a brush-off, how we
might say, “Mother!” with a roll of the eyes and desperate attempt to shut her
up! But perhaps we can see a deeper tussle is going on inside Jesus: ‘my hour
has not yet come’ – we will hear this sense of God’s hour, God’s timing referred
to throughout John’s gospel until the hour comes at last of Jesus’ glorification,
at the cross (John 12:23, 27, 16:32, 17:1).
Like any good Jewish momma though, Mary will not be diverted from
supporting her son: Do whatever he tells you. And now it is for Jesus to take the
risk, to do something which could end up looking foolish – and he implicates
others! Imagine how the servants felt taking what they were sure was the water
they’d laboriously filled the jars with, to the wine steward for tasting!
Well, all’s well that ends well – the best wine is kept till last. But for the gospel
writer, this is more than just a good story with a happy ending. Through this,
Jesus revealed his glory, and the result? The disciples believed in him.
And this is but the first of Jesus’ signs, as John calls Jesus’ miracles – this is
literally a foretaste of the wonders Jesus will yet perform, but not just for
sensationalism, rather to inspire faith and belief.
There are hints here too of what will be revealed of Jesus through the gospel.
Jesus takes water-jars used for the Jewish rites of purification, for washing or
cleansing, and transforms this into the wine of celebration. Jesus makes of ritual
water, gospel wine (NZPB p.477). And of course wine is a rich image in the
Hebrew Scriptures of the promised abundance of the Messianic kingdom;
in Advent we heard Isaiah 25:6 On this mountain the LORD of hosts will make
for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wine.
We know how much of Jesus’ earthly ministry will involve situations of lack of
health or food or justice or wholeness or wisdom, where he will bring plenty and
abundance. “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (John 10:10).
And yet for all these glimpses of glory, we know the truth of the paradox that
Jesus’ hour of greatest glory will be in the foolishness and the powerlessness of
the cross. The King of glory glorified through being revealed as the King of Love.
As we face this year there is much that can perhaps make us feel powerless and
weak, as we wonder about the future of our world, of our church, of our own
lives with their challenges. We are acutely aware of the frailty of human
wisdom, of the Domesday clock at 2.5 minutes to midnight, of the seemingly
intractable problems faced by our world, right down to the individual challenges
facing our own loved ones and friends and ourselves.
Epiphany encourages us to look and see where are the pockets of God’s light
shining among our friends, family, community. Where is ‘God-with-us, who, in
the person of Jesus, came to tangle himself up with us in the messy miracle of
this shared life’1?
Jean Vanier puts it well: ‘When the weak and the strong come together in
mutual friendship, they bridge the gap and become bonded together in a
common humanity’2. How much his prophetic words are needed today.
A question or two. How are we keeping our eyes open for Jesus’ signs in these
days? What sustains us when the signs are hard to see? As we pray and yearn
and ache for miracles needed in our lives or in the life of another we care for,
what is God already doing? Might the miracle be coming in a different way
than we expect, and are we open to see that? How might God be inviting us to
share in the working out of a miracle in the life of another? Will we risk
looking foolish as we act in faith? How do we keep ourselves open to God’s
surprising gifts—the new wine of the reign of God in our midst?
I want to end with a poem written by Jan Richardson, called ‘Blessing the
Water, the Wine’ (2013) : ‘You thought you had learned to live with the empty,
the hollow. You could place your ear against the rim of the vessel of your life
and hear its ringing echo with equanimity, not expecting any more, not even
bothered (almost) to be a bystander at the feast - if not delighting in the
celebration, at least not despairing in it. When the water rushed into the
emptiness, you were surprised that you were surprised, that you could even feel
the sudden wellspring, when you thought all had been poured out. And then
suddenly the sweetness that stuns you, that tells you this was not all,
this was not the end, that this blessing was saving the best for last’.
1
2
Jan Richardson, http://paintedprayerbook.com/2010/01/12/epiphany-2-marriage-and-miracles/ accessed 28/1/17
Jean Vanier, Drawn into the Mystery of Jesus through the Gospel of John. (London: Darton, Longman &Todd, 2004), 106.