Water into Wine - Epiphany 3
“You have kept the good wine until now.” (Jn 2.10)I was down at my sister’s in rural Sussex for a new year party. I helped myself to an open bottle of red wine in the kitchen, only to find after the first memorable mouthful, that it was her neighbour’s pea-pod wine. As I smiled beneficently to the neighbour, I was thinking, ‘what a waste of good pea-pods’. The only advantage of this early petard to the palate was that everything tasted wonderful thereafter.
Professor Eric Mascall, of blessed memory to many of you, preached on this miracle some years ago at St Mary’s. He berated the heretics of the temperance movement for maintaining that there was no real transformation of the water into wine; rather the pure and noble water appeared like best claret when contrasted with the vinegary libation that was being served up towards the end of what may have been a weeklong wedding feast.
This attitude was summed up by one of our evangelical radicals, Gerald Coates: “Jesus’s first miracle was to turn 200 gallons of water into wine and the church has been trying to turn it back into water ever since!”
So what is this rather strange miracle all about? Why does our Lord choose a party where the wine’s run out to reveal his Godship? Well in a way he doesn’t choose to do it. His mother pushes him, all unknowingly, into this first miracle. I’m sure Mary never thought for one moment that he would solve the wine shortage by a dramatic intervention in the space-time continuum.
And there’s another problem with this story. Did it actually happen like this? Barnabas Lindars and others think that it probably didn’t. Many scholars suppose that the story is built around what was originally a parable of Jesus, about the new wine of the kingdom. Water into wine stories abound in Greek mythology and Pliny tells us of a spring that turned to wine on the nones of January, that is, Epiphany time. So perhaps the early church was doing another one of its Christianising pagan festivals routines.
Many other scholars, and I, think it was a miraculous incident. I have never quite seen the point of trying to explain away miracles, unless you want to explain the entire life of Christ in naturalistic terms. If you believe in the miracle of the incarnation, and the resurrection of a dead Christ, then a handful of other miracles hardly produces a stumbling block to faith. When you’ve bought your airline ticket, it seems futile to debate at length whether flight is possible or not. Well, miracle or not, what is John trying to say to us?
We have seen before how the synoptic evangelists Matthew, Mark and Luke use words to describe the miracles of our Lord in terms of portentous acts of power - miracles; while in the Fourth Gospel, John refers to them as ‘signs’. He is not concerned so much with the inbreaking of the kingdom of God; he is more concerned with what these miracles signify about the Son of God. He is not so much concerned with the coming kingdom and the return of Christ; he is more concerned with the mystery of this God made Man.
In theological terms, while the other Gospels connect miracles with eschatology, the last things; John connects miracles with Christology, the nature of Christ himself.
In this first of the seven signs around which John builds his Gospel, the evangelist is already posing the great question of his treatise: “Who is this Jesus of Nazareth?” Is he God or Man? Is he the Messiah?
Clearly this nature miracle of water-into-wine points to a Godlike control of the natural world. Archbishop William Temple puts it with poetic conciseness: “The modest water saw its God and blushed. ”
Now remember that John is writing some years after the Gospel events. He has seen what happened to the hoards who believed because they saw the miracles, and who quickly disappeared when the miracles stopped. John emphasises that Jesus is wary of those whose faith just rests on miracles. So later in this chapter in verse 23 we read: “When he was in Jerusalem during the Passover festival, many believed in his name because they saw the miracles that he was doing. But Jesus on his part would not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people.”
The firmer footing for faith is seen in the symbolism of the water into wine, which contrasted the contemporary practice of religion, with the Christian faith that Christ had come to proclaim. So let’s look at those contrasts that John alludes to.
The stone water jars were used for the many ritual handwashings which accompanied a Jewish feast. (Stone was easier to keep clean than earthenware.) John will be showing in his Gospel how these constant ritual purifications were to be replaced by the one sacrifice of Jesus, which was to cleanse permanently from sin.
Secondly, the law of Moses had power to convict of sin, but little power to free from the grip of sin. Even the prophets looked forward to the time when the law would be written on our hearts; when believers would want to follow the law of love, because of the indwelling Spirit. There are echos here of John the Baptist’s words at our Lord’s baptism – I baptize with water, but he who comes after me will baptize with the Holy Spirit and with fire. This was the rich wine of the Kingdom.
And thirdly, the water represented the insipid nature of a fear based religion - keep the law or else! Christ’s new wine was to build a community based on responsive love. When we have grasped that Christ has loved us and given himself for us, then we will want to show our love by obedience to his teaching.
In John’s account, Mary sets the pattern of Christian response for us. Perhaps she was part of the catering team for what must have been a family wedding. Joseph seems not to be around at this stage, and the guests have drunk more than is polite – we have all hosted those sort of parties. It’s when that waggish definition of hospitality springs to mind:
Hospitality - the art of making people feel at home when you wish they were.So Mary looks in loving dependency to her son. The Hebrew idiom with which he responds “Woman, what have I to do with you?” is both affectionate – ‘Dear Mother’ - and yet also an indication of Christ’s changing role with respect to his family.
Mary gives him one of those knowing motherly looks and turns to the servants and says - “do whatever he says”. Mary has long followed the path of love and obedience to Jesus.
We are sometimes so used to our Christian faith that we forget how staggering it is. We forget the wonder of being alive, conscious humans in a remarkable world; we forget the mystery that, despite all our weaknesses and disappointments, God has drawn near to us in Jesus.
Epiphany is the season of revelation and in today’s Gospel, John invites us to ponder the amazing Christ – God made man for love of us; the bread of life, come down from heaven; ready to take the water of our lives which we offer, and to turn them into the rich wine of life with him.
In a moment we will echo those words read earlier from the book of Revelation. “Blessed are those who are called to the wedding feast of the Lamb.”
And as we come and receive, may we realise afresh the Gospel truth of grace and love; and respond, like Mary, in trust and joyful obedience.
Then, day after day, as we deepen our spiritual life, we will be able to pray in gratefulness to God:
“You have kept the good wine until now.” (Jn 2.10)
