The King has come to Cana

OT Reading: (CEB)

11 On that day I will raise up the meeting tent of David that has fallen, and repair its broken places. I will raise up its ruins, and I will rebuild it like a long time ago; 12 so that they may possess what is left of Edom, as well as all the nations who are called by my name, says the Lord who will do this. 13 The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when the one who plows will overtake the one who gathers, when the one who crushes grapes will overtake the one who sows the seed. The mountains will drip wine, and all the hills will flow with it. 14 I will improve the circumstances of my people Israel; they will rebuild the ruined cities and inhabit them. They will plant vineyards and drink their wine; and they will make gardens and eat their fruit. 15 I will plant them upon their land, and they will never again be plucked up out of the land that I have given them, says the Lord your God.

NT Reading: (NTE)

16 The Lord himself will come down from heaven with a shouted order, with the voice of an archangel and the sound of God’s trumpet. The Messiah’s dead will rise first; 17 then we who are alive, who are left, will be snatched up with them among the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air. And in this way we shall always be with the Lord. 18 So comfort each other with these words.

Gospel Reading: (NTE)

1 On the third day there was a wedding at Cana in Galilee. Jesus’ mother was there, 2 and Jesus and his disciples were also invited to the wedding.

3 The wine ran out.

Jesus’ mother came over to him.

‘They haven’t got any wine!’ she said.

4 ‘Oh, Mother!’ replied Jesus. ‘What’s that got do to do with you and me? My time hasn’t come yet.’

5 His mother spoke to the servants.

‘Do whatever he tells you,’ she said.

6 Six stone water-jars were standing there, ready for use in the Jewish purification rites. Each held about twenty or thirty gallons.

7 ‘Fill the jars with water,’ said Jesus to the servants. And they filled them, right up to the brim.

8 ‘Now draw some out’, he said, ‘and take it to the chief steward.’ They did so.

9 When the chief steward tasted the water that had turned into wine (he didn’t know where it had come from, but the servants who had drawn the water knew), he called the bridegroom.

10 ‘What everybody normally does’, he said, ‘is to serve the good wine first, and then the worse stuff when people have had plenty to drink. But you’ve kept the good wine till now!’

11 This event, in Cana of Galilee, was the first of Jesus’ signs. He displayed his glory, and his disciples believed in him.

Preliminaries

Prophetic

Prayer

Honor

Weems

Timberlakes

Tara

Mention of wedding

John: The Old Man on a Mission

Likely one of Jesus’ youngest disciples

Now an old man

Close of first century

Last of the original apostles

Getting ready to hand off the church to the next generation

People like Polycarp, who John installed as pastor over the churches in Smyrna––a church who John had also prophesied around the same time in his Revelation, would undergo tremendous persecution.

People like Paipas, who John placed over the churches in Phrygia

People like Ignatius, who John mentored and who would become the pastor over the churches in Antioch

That place where people first came to, somewhat in jest, call the diverse band of misfits who made up the Jesus sect of Judaism, Christiani or “Messiah People”

Once a young man walking closely with Jesus, he was now an old man on a mission

John sits and takes out parchment and pen and begins to furiously write out the last things he desires the next generation to carry with them.

He writes a few letters, we’ve come to call 1, 2, and 3 John. He records a vision of Jesus the Messiah and a depiction of the unfolding of human history, calling the Messiah’s people to remain steadfast and loyal under trial, that we’ve come to call Revelation.

And he writes his very own testimonial of the life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the Son of God who he describes as, the “Word becoming flesh and coming to set up his tabernacle among us.”

Unlike the three other authoritative accounts––what we have come to call the synoptic gospels, Matthew, Mark, and Luke, John does something a bit different

Seven “Signs”

Not miracles, not wonders–– “signs”

What is a sign? A sign is a symbol––a word, a picture, a metaphor, a fixed point in time––that points to an even greater reality or truth.

It is the first of these signs we’re going to turn to today––where Jesus shows up with part of the group who would become his disciples––and turns 150 gallons of water in ritual purification jars into the greatest vintage of wine for a couple’s wedding in the little village of Cana.

Wine and the Age to Come

At first glance, this seems like an odd sign––what could it possibly point to?

Of what sort of significance could turning water into wine possibly have?

John chose a story about Jesus turning around the disastrous fate of a feast as the “first”—the “chief” sign

Not healing the blind

Not raising the dead

But winemaking?

Much of this confusion is because we’ve lost the rich biblical symbolism of wine.

In order to understand, we have to understand the culture in which this story is set.

Israel’s Scriptures are jammed pack with deep and meaningful symbolism for wine.

Its abundance is a sign of God’s covenantal blessing

Its absence often symptomatic of his judgment

The capacity for Israel to cultivate vineyards that would produce quality wine was, itself, something of a covenantal miracle.

And the presence of good wine

The promised land Israel inherited was a deeply contested land. Armies seemed to be constantly marching through and laying waste to the land.

It was a fertile place at the crossroads of the world.

And vineyards take time to cultivate.

Upwards of decades to produce high quality grapes for winemaking

So wine, the product of long-standing vineyards, became associated with peace and stability in the land.

Thus, for YHWH to promise Israel

The sort of peace only a king—only the Prince of Peace could promise to provide

Echoed in the prophetic word of Amos we heard earlier was the hope that one day YHWH would establish for his people a peace that would be hallmarked by an overflowing abundance of wine.

That he himself would rule over them––that he would be their God and they would be his people.

To the ancient Jews, within the skin of the grape––its juice, its seed was the promise of a future king

In this land of plenty––in this land of beauty––grapes carry promise

Come and See

It is with this promise in the backdrop that Jesus takes the scene

The Word had become flesh and moved into the neighborhood

His royal birth announcement had proceeded him centuries earlier when the prophet Isaiah declared that, “Unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given. And all authority shall rest upon his shoulders. And he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father—Prince of Peace. His authority shall grow continually and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom.”

In the person of Jesus Christ, divinity has taken on flesh.

In the person of Jesus Christ, the peace foretold in the cries of the Hebrew prophets was going to be fulfilled

In the person of Jesus Christ, the king had arrived on the scene, bringing with him the wine of such a refined and distinguished vintage that we all can know creation will never be the same again.

Such a king has broken onto the scene––and yet not in the way we would expect him to.

Rather than with a procession of gold and monkeys and servant girls to display his wealth––like prince Ali’s march into Agraba in Aladdin

the King comes in the form of a seed planted in the womb of a young virgin named Mary

Rather than sending in tanks and missiles and swords and guns, he sends angels to shepherds—a star to some Persian astrologers––

Rather than sending word to Herod that the rightful king was to take the throne

Rather than another powerful army, he sends word of his coming through a crazy monastic sort of man named John the Baptist in the town of Bethany.

And its outside of Bethany that we find this anonymous King of Kings making his way through the world when John the Baptist cries out––look! It’s the Lamb of God!

What an odd sort of statement. And how crazy must he have seemed to onlookers, in particular his own disciples who were trying to learn something from this fellow.

Yet when two of John’s disciples turn to look at Jesus, something catches their eye.

They’re not really sure what he’s all about.

But there’s something about his eyes.

There’s something about his voice.

There’s something about the way he carries his head.

The way that he carries his hands.

There’s something royal––something holy––something loving about him.

There’s something royal––something holy––something loving about him.

It’s not so much that he’s a loving person, or a lovable person––

It’s as though love itself has taken up residence in flesh and blood and has strolled right past them.

And they can’t help but find out what it’s all about.

John describes as Jesus begins to call his first disciples with these two men who follow after him. We see as Jesus invites them to “Come and see”

And so they did

Then one of them, Andrew, finds his brother Peter, and exclaims, “We’ve found the Messiah!”

And so he brings him to come and see––

Then Jesus comes upon Philip and beckons him to come and see

Then, upon finding Nathanael, Philip beckons him to come and see

And when Jesus prophesies of Nathanael, Nathanael exclaims, “You really are the king of Israel!”

At which point Jesus says, You think that was good? Come and see

And so they do.

It’s here that the Prince of Peace models for us that godly power doesn’t derive from hierarchal position

It doesn’t come from brute force

It doesn’t come through tanks and missiles and swords and golden monkeys

It comes through invitation

He doesn’t need credentialed men and women

He doesn’t need our power

He doesn’t need our position

He doesn’t need our privilege

He is the kind of king who can bring peace from a ragtag bunch of roughnecks

he is the kind of king who can bring water out a rock and who can bring greatness out of a band of misfits

he’s the kind of king who turns water into wine.

An invitation to encounter the holy––to encounter love in flesh––to be transformed, not by indoctrination or coercion, but through the power the Spirit of God

It’s in this invitation that we find the heart of the gospel in motion. The gospel isn’t a formula. The gospel isn’t checking off a list of doctrinal affirmations or behavior modification. It isn’t a class or a program…it’s an invitation.

It’s an invitation to encounter. It is an invitation, as we will see, to drink a different kind of vintage––to exchange the water of this present life for the wine of the age to come. It’s an invitation to the wedding feast.

It’s pointing to the God of love and saying, I’m not going to prove a think––but look there’s something about his eyes…something about his voice…something about the way he carries his hands…how he carries his head…how he carries his cross…how he carries me... “come and see”

You see, the love language of Jesus is expressed in this invitation to come and see…and he gives that invitation through us––those of us who are on a journey of following him.

Water to Wine

So Jesus and this group of men come to a wedding in Cana, which John tells us is taking place on the third day.

But John’s not simply giving us meaningless details. In fact, he’s not giving us a historical description at all.

You see, in Jesus’ time virgins were married on the fourth day…widows were married on the fifth day.

So when John tells his readers that a wedding feast took place on the third day, he’s not making a historical observation but a theological one.

Just like we do, John’s readers knew what happened on the third day.

The third day became symbolic in early Christianity for resurrection––it pointed toward the future return of Christ and our own bodily resurrection.

You see, John is making sure we remember that the miracle about to be described is not simple a miracle for the sake of miracles. It’s a sign.

And signs point to something greater.

The water turned into wine at the great wedding feast in Cana was a sign pointing toward that first resurrection Sunday when the water of sorrow turned to the wine of joy as Jesus stepped out of his tomb, victorious over sin, hell, the grave, and death.

We can often miss this in our own lives. We’re hungry for a move. Hungry for a miracle. We want God to reverse a situation, restore something that’s lost, heal something that’s broken.

And while these miracles that God performs in our lives are beautiful and wonderful and magnificent, they are only an appetizer for what is to come.

They are a sign pointing to a greater reality.

You see, friends, God is not the God of second chances––he’s the God of the resurrection.

And every victory he unfolds in your life. Every healing, every deliverance, every restoration, every reversal, every ounce of water turned to fine wine––is only a foretaste of the resurrection of the body and the life of the world to come.

And these signs are placed in your life and mine so we have something we can point to and say, “come and see!” The king is on the move! The revolution of love has begun and you’re all invited!

It is a amuse-bouche to the

Jesus and his growing group of disciples were likely invited both because of the social connection between Jesus’ family and the family of the bridegroom, but also because of Jesus’ rising social standing. To have honorable guests at one’s wedding was a way families in honor/shame cultures enhanced their own standing. From the fact that Mary seems to be the only guest who is aware the wine has run out, we can assume that the family of Jesus may have even helped contribute to the funding of the feast, as honorable families often did.

But John describes how the situation turns south. “And the wine ran out.”

Such a matter of fact sort of statement. And he says it as though this sort of thing happens all the time.

But it didn’t! In this time weddings were a multi-day affair. People came from all over to be a part of the great feast. They would come to the table and celebrate the marriage of the bride to her bridegroom. And the family was expected to supply enough food and wine to last the entire time.

But the wine ran out.

Such a turn of events would have been disastrous in a culture whose primary currency was honor and shame. Such a mistake would open the family to ridicule for generations. It’s likely that at the point at which John tells us the wine had run out, the bride and bridegroom didn’t even know.

But the wine, indeed, had run out.

Have you ever done your due diligence to produce wine from your own life––the fruit of your work, your talent, your passions, your relationships, your finances––only for the wine to run out!?

It seems no matter how much toil, how much striving, how much effort we put into this life, the wine always runs out

There’s more month left than money

There’s more time our kids needs

There’s more attention our spouse needs

There’s more love this world needs

But the wine has run out.

What do you do when the wine runs out?

You follow the example of Mary––you come to Jesus.

In Jewish wedding feasts, the women would typically sit separately from the men, by the kitchen and the area where the wine was kept.

At this point, the servants have noticed that the wine is gone and, likely a family member of the groom’s family approached Mary to ask her to beseech Jesus, who was now the head of her family, to intervene.

So Mary comes to the main feast and, with exasperation in her voice tells Jesus, “they haven’t got any wine!”

Mary happily accepts––both out of a sincere desire to help the family and because, by doing so, it would enhance the honor of Jesus as well as their family. Such a rescue would undoubtedly make the family of the bridegroom beholden to Jesus, perhaps even being expected to financially support Jesus’ budding ministry.

This is the cultural backdrop against which Jesus is beseeched by his mother to fix the wine situation. His reply is perplexing, and many of us have read some sort of rude, angry Jesus in the reply “Woman--what does that have to do with us?”

I mean, calling a woman, “woman?!”

Just try---the next time your mother or your wife asks you to do something....just try calling them woman…see what happens.

But Jesus isn’t being rude. He’s not being cold. He’s not being uncaring.

Instead, he recognizes the honor games at play here. And he’s not about to get roped into them. And his final statement about his hour having not come isn’t even a statement…it’s a question.

Another way to phrase Jesus’ reply to Mary is this: “Mother, what good are these social games to us? Hasn’t the time for me to be about the Father’s business come? I’ve got work to do!”

But Mary isn’t dissuaded.

She calls the servants over and says, “Come…come and see---he’s going to do something…I have no idea what…but come and see. The king has come to Cana…come and see what he might do today.”

I often ask myself, do I have that sort of trust in Jesus.

Do you?

That when you don’t get the answer you’re looking for. When the answer you get is even a bit perplexing---you still trust Jesus to do what he does best?

What helpless abandon Mary has in her trust of her son, the King…that she doesn’t know how it’s going to turn out but she trusts him anyway. And by doing so she gives us the prescription for perfect obedience----do whatever he tells you.

Lacking faith? Do whatever he tells you

Finances in shambles? Do whatever he tells you

Bound by fear? Do whatever he tells you

Don’t know what to do with your life? Do whatever he tells you

So while the guests of the feast are still unaware of what’s going on––while the bride and bridegroom themselves are drinking the last of the old wine without even knowing it...

Jesus has six purification jars filled with water.

Six, the number of the human condition. A number symbolizing a shortage of perfection. Filled with water up to the brim––signifying that the very best of our human intention––the best sacrifice we can offer to purify ourselves––still falls short.

The human condition can only contain water. We need Jesus for the wine.

So they’re filled to the brim. And a servant takes a chalice, dips it in the water and, upon the instruction of Jesus, takes the chalice to the chief steward.

Yet somewhere between that ritual purification water pouring into that chalice and the chalice being lifted up by the steward of the feast––the unthinkable happened.

The grapes of heaven released the promised held inside of them. The molecular structure of the water changed in an instant. Generations of viticulture produced in a miraculous instant the royal announcement that the Prince of Peace had arrived onto the scene

The waters of ritual purification had turned to the wine of redemption

Fragmentation would turn to wholeness

Defeat would turn into triumph

And isn’t it just like Jesus to make such a royal proclamation in such a way that

Death would turn into life!

And isn’t it just like Jesus to meet Mary’s request in a way that covered the shame of the family, yet didn’t draw attention to himself. He actually left the wedding with only a handful of servants, Mary, and his disciples knowing what had even happened!

The King of Kings, the Lord of Lords, the Lion of the Tribe of Judah, had borrowed the wedding feast of a family in a remote Galilean village to announce to the world that God had become flesh and was setting into motion a chain of events that all the powers of hell and the empires of this world could not derail....and only like six people noticed!

But the disciples noticed.

They came and they, indeed saw.

They saw what manner of man is it that had the power to turn water into wine––to preserve the honor of a newlywed couple and have no desire to take any of that honor for himself. What manner of man is it that is like this? Who, like the chief steward, would one day lift the cup of redemption at the passover feast and say “This is the blood of my new covenant which is poured out for the removal of sin.” That through the shedding of his blood would make public the pouring out of heavenly wine upon the earth that all of creation might benefit from its love and be overcome by power.

The story concludes by simply saying that his disciples believed into him. The inference here is that