Filled to the Brim
“Filled to the Brim”
Second Sunday of Epiphany, Year C, January 20, 2019
Psalm 36 Isaiah 62:1-5 John 2:1-11
First Presbyterian Church of Sandpoint, Idaho
Pastor Andy Kennaly
Today we read about change as one situation or quality transforms into another through the power of God. In Isaiah, the Hebrew people, who have suffered at the hands of aggressors, shall be restored to wholeness and peace. The people shall no more be termed “Forsaken,” but rather called “My Delight Is In Her.” The land won’t be described as “Desolate,” but is given the term, “Married” as it moves from bleak abandonment to intimate relationship of steadfast trust. A new beginning is released, filled with promise, potential, and presence.
In John we also see transformation. We hear the story of the first sign given to indicate the power of God revealed in the life, death, and glorification of Jesus; the first act of ministry as he changes water into wine. Yet that’s just one aspect of what changes in this story. Through John’s symbolism, cultural assumptions, and foreshadowing, layer upon layer reveal deeper truths as we ask questions about culture, salvation, and service.
This story assumes the reader knows cultural norms surrounding Jewish weddings in the time of Jesus. Most of us are not experts on that subject, but the details give us some hints, such as Mary, the mother of Jesus, at this wedding and Jesus and his disciples have also been invited to the wedding. But the wine gives out, it runs out; this wedding is out of wine.
This wedding is likely a multi-day experience in which hospitality is central. Hospitality is a cultural value that can’t be underestimated, and sharing drinks is symbolic of unity. They are invited to the wedding, and the people have lingered together, spending time nurturing relationship. They are there because they’ve received invitations; connection exists as people share support, recognition, and the celebration of deep bonds which unite.
But just as intensely as hospitality is valued in that culture, the flip side of failed hospitality, of social obligations not met, is shame. Near eastern culture has shame woven into the social fabric. To run out of wine can be detrimental to this newlywed couple and their families. To not share drinks shows you’re not interested, really, in unity, and you’re insulting your guests. It’s not just logistics, it’s a cultural failure threatening a stigma of shame for years to come. Not a good way to start your marriage.
“When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, ‘They have no wine.’ And Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.’ His mother said to the servants, ‘Do whatever he tells you.’”
Mary notices. She wants something done to avoid the shame. Simply pointing out that “they have run out of wine” shows how powerfully this shame cycle traps people into guilt and despair.
What does religion look like when it’s based on shame? What does Christianity look like when it’s based on shame? What is life like when you’re trapped by guilt? Are guilt and shame worthy values to guide us? Negative influence from shame include fear, worry, angst. Mary is taking action to help this couple, this family, to avoid shame, so shame as a dynamic does lead to action, and maybe there’s some value there, or power to motivate. Yet Mary seems to be playing by the rules. Jesus breaks the rules.
That Jesus replies he’s not concerned about them running out of wine shows that he’s not caught by shame cycles, not insulted by a failure of hospitality. As he replies, “What concern is that to you and me? My hour has not yet come.” Jesus is recognizing that he and Mary don’t have that value system, that shame is not what directs or defines them.
Another value this text is exploring involves purity. Notice it’s six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Six jars, not seven. Seven is a number indicating wholeness or being complete; but six, while close, is just shy of seven. They are used in rites, rituals to symbolize something, in this case purity, being washed clean.
What does our world, or the church, look like when they focus on purity? What does that value lead toward? Morality? Proper behavior? Perhaps, but the flip side involves judgment, of morality police out there enforcing. Purity, though it’s based on good intentions and has beneficial aspects, ultimately leads to exclusion and break of relationship. If you don’t measure up, you are written off. Invited guests coming to celebrate unity and covenant are now having to deal with judgment, stigma, and shame. Jesus turns to the purity jars, has them filled to the brim, and yet this approach in itself is lacking and will not lead to wholeness. So far, everything in this story within the grasp of our experience has come up short.
This past week I heard someone sharing about a conversation they had with a Christian regarding climate change. The Christian, through devout faith and trust, declared that the earth will not be harmed because God promises through a rainbow after the flood that life will not be destroyed. Their main point is that we don’t have to worry about global warming because God will save us. Yet also implied is that this person doesn’t have to change; and their approach is passive, that God acts for us.
John’s story of the wedding is more than drama; it’s an invitation to examine our assumptions of who we think Jesus is, how the salvation of God works, and what our role involves as people in relationship with God and one another in our own contexts.
While Jesus may be saying, “My time has not yet come” as John’s way of foreshadowing the cross, the grave, and the resurrection, it may also echo our desire to not get involved. Don’t rock the boat. Don’t question society. Don’t challenge or question authority. Just behave. Have the right beliefs and act on them. “My time has not yet come.” Is this Jesus’ way of saying, “God will fix it?” Mary, the mother of Jesus, seems to know something as she tells the servants to do whatever Jesus tells them.
John summarizes this whole story by calling this change from water into wine, “The first of his signs.” Jesus reveals God’s glory, yet sometimes the first step is the hardest. This story is at the very beginning, just as Jesus is calling people to discipleship, to action, to following, to a faith that recognizes God’s saving action, but also knows the Biblical witness has always shown God acts through human agency, works through God’s people; people who take courageous steps even in the midst of contexts that would discourage those steps. The biblical narrative has stories like Noah building the ark while others ridicule, Moses in the safe land Midian called to go back to Egypt, Rahab risking her life providing protection to Hebrew spies, the Hebrew people entering the Promised Land by crossing through the Jordan River at flood stage and confronting the walls of Jericho, a fortified city, and the angels waiting on baited breath as Mary says YES to the Spirit. All of these are in contradiction to social norms of their day, in opposition to the powers that be, and they all depend on the power of transformation not thought possible by our normal standards or rules. They all illustrate the saving, transforming power and centrality of God’s loving grace, and the call to act from a foundation, not of guilt, shame, and exclusion, but of humility and service.
In what ways in our own story are we called to make visible signs of the Christ living in and through us? What social patterns and assumptions are we called to bring into question because, as helpful as those patterns have been for some, the flip side consequences are no longer acceptable for the greater good? Are you willing to find your center in Christ, where fullness dwells through loving relationship, covenant promise, and a release from egocentric control and struggle? Do you hear God calling to a discipleship that doesn’t wait for God to do for you, but empowers to work through you toward unconditional love, justice for all, and a deep, abiding peace; toward transformation of the world beginning with a change in your own heart?
Notice that when Jesus is going about this sign it’s the servants he’s working with, as he directs them to fill the jars, to take the wine to the steward. The steward, one who should know all about the wine, is filled with questions, but the servants know. They know because they experience behind the scenes the living presence of Jesus working in their midst, not caught in the values of our world, not needing credit for this work but the credit goes to the bridegroom as his dignity is restored. Jesus directs the servants through love to bring wholeness and fulfilment. The servants don’t passively wait, but they participate, humbly, and that’s how the glory of God is revealed in Christ.
As we invite God to use the ordinary aspects of our life to proclaim God’s goodness and grace, here is a poem by Pastor and poet, Steve Garnaas-Holmes of St. Matthew’s United Methodist Church in Acton, Massachusetts, which talks about God’s love changing our hearts.
God of Love, take our hearts and change them.
Take what is rough in us and let it become gentle.
Take our fear and let it become wonder.
Take our anger and let it become sorrow.
Take our grief and let it become compassion.
Take our discouragement and let it become acceptance.
Take our doubt and let it become courage.
Take our hurt and let it become forgiveness.
Take our not knowing and let it become faith.
Take our self-centeredness and let it become love.
Take our broken hearts and let them become our strength.
Take our lives and let them become yours.
(Fr. Max, frmaxolivasj@yahoo.com, Spirituality and Ethics: January 2019, Blessed are the Peacemakers).
May God be glorified, NOW, even as forever. Amen.