Readings: Psalm 36:5-10, John 2:1-11
Let us pray: May all that we hear in heart and mind
challenge, assure and encourage us to respond in faith in Jesus name. Amen
On Friday night we
hosted a pot luck for some of our friends from the folk club to welcome other friends
who had just moved to Dunedin. And I was
getting worried that there wouldn’t be enough meat for the main – so I whipped
out a bag of sausages and quickly cooked them.
Heaven forbid that in our house we might not have enough food on the
table. I suspect many of us have had
just that same conundrum – worried about our hospitality – that it be
sufficient for everyone to relax and enjoy themselves.
The hosts of the
wedding at Cana were about to have a major hospitality melt down. The wine, yes the wine had run out. And Mary, mother of Jesus, was concerned for
them – she was only a guest – she didn’t have to be involved – she could have
simply joined probably all the other guests who would have gone away grumbling,
indignant at the lack of hospitality and not going there again.
But she
didn’t. She intervened, wanting to save
the celebration from disaster.
This story of the
turning of the water into wine is known as the first of the miracles – in
John’s Gospel set just after Jesus’ baptism and just before his clearing of the
outrages in the temple. And yet is seems
it so nearly didn’t happen. His response
to his mother’s nudging to act was reluctant to say the least – ‘Why do you ask
this of me? My time has not yet
come.’ Our natural reaction to this apparently throw
away, disrespectful by our standards, response to his mother can sidetrack our
reaction to this passage – it has for me.
But this time I think that it doesn’t throw Mary at all. I can almost see he eyebrow going up just a
smidgeon – and she immediately turns to the servants and says ‘Do as he
says’. She doesn’t harangue or plead –
it is as if she simply expects that he will do what is needed without further
prodding.
You see I think
that Mary absolutely understands Jesus response – ‘my time is not yet come’. She get that the cross is in front of Jesus –
that all will be revealed, that the Messianic promise will be fulfilled – but
not yet. But it doesn’t stop her from
doing something now. She, a disciple as
well as mother, lives into the now and not yet with absolute composure. She awaits, but she also does as she waits.
And there is a
sense where she won’t let Jesus stand on the sideline either – she has told him
of the need – and she most confidently expects him to deal with it.
This Mary is a bit
of a revelation – not just in her seemingly secure relationship with her adult son,
but also in her living out just what discipleship is about.
She recognised
that she was part of the fulfilment of the promise that God had made – that
standing on the sidelines waiting was of no use to anybody, that we each of us
need to demonstrate and live out God with us now.
And in insisting
that something could be done – just think about the impact on the others in
this story.
There were the
servants – they knew Jesus had done something but didn’t really understand what
it was until they saw the reaction of the steward and then of the
bridegroom. The steward and the
bridegroom in their turn, unknowingly benefitted from the act of Jesus and the
advocacy that Mary brought to the situation.
And we tend to forget about the third group – those who were already
committed to following Jesus, now further impressed by this sign of power and
miracle.
Mary’s attentiveness
and her instinctive response to people in need had a wide and powerful impact
on many people. You could say that in
her act of intercession, Mary, mother of God, reminded God of who God is.
And it lays that
same challenge before us today. To not be standing on the sidelines, secure in
our faith and waiting for the fulfilment of God’s kingdom. Rather we are the people of the promise in
the now, acting into the hurts and deprivations and injustices that we not just
bump into but that we are alert for all around us.
I suspect that the
problem for us in not that we will act, because I think that we do that well,
but that we will actually see the need in the first place. Our care for each other can sometimes be
stymied by a culture that has encouraged privacy to a degree where we are not
sure we have a right to be involved, that has dumbed down our people skills so
that we expect all people to think or respond as we do and we are allowed to be
miffed at the first sign of difficulty.
A culture that has long put self above community and problems as ours to
deal with doesn’t, to my way of thinking, encourage community care and
interaction in any meaningful way. And
let’s face it we have the other extreme too – people who refuse to understand
that there are any boundaries at all or alternatively don’t know how to listen
for what is actually required of them. I
saw an example a little while ago of someone getting quite cross with people
who were genuinely wanting to help them but were not reading the need nor
hearing the response which was not what they thought was best. So we really do have to be light on our feet
when we seek to engage and be of service and help to others. If it was just turning water into wine – no
problems – but in reality we need eyes to not only see the need but also to be
the help that people need rather than the answer we think they need.
But there is another
part to this story too. And that is what
happened when the wine – far better than that which had already been served –
was put on the table. Let’s not get
sidelined by our current concerns with too much alcohol being served and
explore the act in its context.
Within this rather
spare narrative is a gesture of great extravagance – not just wine of moderate
vintage but superior wine, not just feasting for a limited time but for as long
as was needed. Celebration,
togetherness, God’s generosity in which we rest.
Are we forever aware
of the words of the psalmist?
How precious is your steadfast love, O God!
All people may take refuge in the shadow of your wings.
They feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights.
For with you is the fountain of life;[1]
All people may take refuge in the shadow of your wings.
They feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights.
For with you is the fountain of life;[1]
Do we hold a
balance in our faith of, on the one hand, the seriousness and responsibility of
being the active people of Christ in the world and, on the other hand, the joy
and celebration of simply being held secure in the arms of God, under the wing
of God or whatever that image might be for you.
What does that
gathering of the people of God look like for us when the metaphorical wine is
flowing and we can enjoy simply being in the presence of God, together? When we gather on Sundays I think we
celebrate well being together – and that is not just in laughter and joy and
praise but also in silence and those moments that come upon us where we are
deeply aware of the sense of God in us and with us.
When we gather
does the oneness of whose we are celebrate the diversity that we bring to this
community of faith? I believe so – most
of the time anyway. And does it shine
out to those who might come as strangers, first timers to this place? Do we move so that there is room for all who
seek to shelter under God’s wing or make sure that there are more chairs added
to the table for all who wish to join the celebration?
To finish, the
small trouble with metaphor is that they each need to be held in tension with others
or we find ourselves unbalanced in our life of faith. Being secure under the wing, together at the
table celebrating our faith and ensuring that we act into the need we
meet, where the water is turned into wine for all people are not meant to be exclusive
either/ors (although they might be at some stages in our lives) – they are both
who we are to be, the now and the not yet, the action in the midst of the
waiting.
Living constantly
in only one of these outpourings of faith will, in the end, diminish our perception
of the needs of both ourselves and of the community we live in.
Living into both
the celebration of being the people of God and the grace filled acts of love
and compassion to all whom we encounter is living the life of the disciple of
Christ Jesus. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Margaret Garland
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