Sermon/Epiphany 2 — St. John 2:1-11

On the third day there was a wedding at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus also was invited to the wedding with his disciples. When the wine ran out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what does this have to do with me? My hour has not yet come.” His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” Now there were six stone water jars there for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to the servants, “Fill the jars with water.” And they filled them up to the brim. And he said to them, “Now draw some out and take it to the master of the feast.” So they took it. When the master of the feast tasted the water now become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the master of the feast called the bridegroom and said to him, “Everyone serves the good wine first, and when people have drunk freely, then the poor wine. But you have kept the good wine until now.” This, the first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested his glory. And his disciples believed in him.

You remember that last week we observed the account of Jesus’ family traveling to Jerusalem for the Passover when He was twelve years old, 

—and Him remaining there as His parents began to travel back home (though they 

thought He had come along in their group), 

—and Jesus signaling to His mother that His being a child in their home was only 

a part of His purpose in this world, and that a time was coming when His identity as Mary’s earthly son would recede behind His identity as the obedient eternal Son of the heavenly Father Who makes atonement for the world’s sins.

In our text for today, we have another account of Jesus with His mother. And in this additional account we have another enlightening exchange between them. Their dialogue is rich with meaning: 

“They have no wine.”

“Woman, what does this have to do with me? My hour has not yet come.”

(Mary to the servants) “Do whatever he tells you.”

They have no wine

Mary mentioning to her son, that they have no wine has the feeling of casual conversation, doesn’t it? It feels like the conversation I've had with my daughter when we have stopped into McDonalds to get sundaes, and I’ve seen a sign on the soft serve machine that says, “not working” (which we’ve determined is about 50% of the time at least; but I digress), and I have leaned back to her and said, “They have no ice cream.” Now, when I’ve said those words I haven’t meant anything more than what I’ve said. I haven’t said them with any expectation that anything’s going to happen (except maybe us going down the road to Dairy Queen to see if we can get a sundae). I haven’t been implying anything. I haven’t been hoping that somehow we will yet get sundaes at McDonald’s. It’s a dead issue. I’ve just passed along some information when I’ve said what I said.

I’m reminded of that from Mary’s comment. But this isn’t that. Mary’s comment isn’t informational like that; it’s supplication. She’s asking Him to do something. She doesn’t want it to be the case that this family will be embarrassed at this failure in their hosting. She’s hoping that somehow there will be additional wine at this wedding.

It’s interesting in that John tells us that Jesus’ miracle in this text is the first of his signs that manifested His glory. We have to assume there hasn’t been any history to demonstrate that Jesus would suddenly use godly power like this. 

Think about that. 

Mary had known who her son would be since before He was born. The angel had said, the child to be born will be called holy—the Son of God (Luke 1:35). The same angel had said to her husband, (speaking of the child): he will save his people from their sins (Matt. 1:21).” Now, Jesus was thirty. For thirty years his mother (we have to presume) had wondered when she might start to see some indication of this happening, right? Now, we’re in that mysterious territory, wondering what Jesus was up to all those years. We know He was perfectly obedient; that’s about it.

But whatever it was, things had started to happen now. Jesus had been baptized by John in the Jordan. He had spent the 40 days and nights in the wilderness, fasting, and being tempted by Satan. He had gathered His disciples (in fact, they had been invited along with Him to this wedding). Might Jesus choose to do something in this situation? Mary was apparently hoping so.

My hour has not yet come

But then we have this surprising response from Jesus: “Woman, what does this have to do with me? My hour has not yet come.” Of course, this is interesting for a couple of reasons: 1) He addresses her as woman and not mother, and 2) If by His hour he means the manifesting of His glory, we know that shortly after he says this, He performs the miracle. So, why this strange response? 

We might look at this as a sort of part 2 of His putting some distance between His identity as Mary’s son and His identity as God’s eternal Son Who now embarks on His ministry in this world that will lead to the cross and grave and empty tomb and ascension to God’s right hand. Throughout the thirty years up to this point, Jesus’ mother has had all of the influence over her son that a mother usually has. He has respectfully done what she has asked of Him in keeping with His duty as a son under His parent (a perfect one in this case). 

It ends here, though. She doesn’t set His agenda when it comes to His calling. It seems like Him calling her woman rather than mother emphasizes this point. It isn’t disrespectful; it just makes the point. She has asked something of her son that crosses over into territory that is beyond their parent/child relationship. Luther writes: “Christ here refuses absolutely to do God’s work when his own mother wants it.”

Do whatever he tells you

That said: if she has crossed the line as the mother of a son, also, she has demonstrated great faith in the one she knows her son to be. Having just been put in her place in this way, she has immediately turned to the servants, and has alerted them to stand by for instructions for the solving of their problem. The instructions won’t come from her; they will come from the One Who for the next few years will demonstrate His bringing of God’s grace by relieving the various burdens of needy people (including especially, the burden of their consciences).

Imagine the strain Jesus’ words might have put on His poor mother’s faith. She has been involved in a crisis in a person’s life—not life or death, but a crisis nonetheless. You have real crises in your life that aren’t life or death, don’t you? I know, when I think back to my grandmother, how troubling it was to her to think her relatives might think of her as a poor hostess. It wasn’t the stuff of Shakespearian drama, but to that one person it was enough to bring tears to the eyes. There were all sorts of reasons it was important to her. You have your own things in life that you just hope beyond all hope will turn out one way or the other. Mary (on behalf of someone) has presented just such a scenario to Jesus, and asked for His help.

And what does He do? It’s as if He shows her the face of someone who’s wearing a mask. The mask is of someone who doesn’t care, doesn’t have time, doesn’t have any interest in helping her in her little crisis. The whole thing takes place in a moment. 

And here’s the thing: her great faith is demonstrated in the fact that she’s not buying it. In this moment when He hasn’t given her anything to rely on, when He has given her no reason to see Him as kind and caring and loving, when it makes no reasonable sense for her to tell the servants to stand by for His helpful instructions, she does just that; and she does it immediately—as if He never said what He said. It’s because she knows Him. Her trust in Him isn’t based in how she feels from moment to moment; it’s in what she knows. It’s based in the promises of Scripture pertaining to this one who brings God’s grace to this sinful world, to sinners like Mary, and like you and me. 

When you have times in your life when it seems like God is million miles away, like He isn’t listening, like He doesn’t care, think about this text. Think about how it is that you know that God loves you. It isn’t because you feel that way at all times. Sometimes God will allow you to struggle for a time. He’ll allow you to endure an illness, or an unkindness from someone, or a financial setback, or some other painful experience. And it might be that He will allow this struggle to remain with you for so long that you would be tempted to think He doesn’t love you, doesn’t care about you, that He isn’t your friend. Maybe you’ve even thought sinful thoughts about Him when you’ve had moments like this. Mary knew that Jesus loved her because she knew the Scriptures. She knew Who Jesus is, and that even if He is exercising her faith like this, asking her to push past the urge to trust her feelings instead of what she knows, He is Who He is; He can’t be anything else. When you have feelings like this, think about that question: How do I know that God loves me? Answer it like one of the young school children did in chapel the other day when I asked: How do you know that God’s loves you? Her answer was: “The Bible tells me so.”

Yes, the Bible tells you that Jesus is the One Who has brought God’s grace—His forgiveness to you. He’s the one about Whom Paul writes: God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8). Let those words about Jesus ring in your ears when you find yourself in Mary’s place in our text, when you’re wondering, Does Jesus care about my little crisis in this life? Does He care about the bigger crisis of my sins; will He really forgive them? Does He care about me? He does. You already know it because you know what the Bible says about Him. Put your faith in the one you know Mary’s son to be. Having seen Jesus’ mask, His challenge that Luther says, entices and allures [you] to believe confidently in him, though he delay, say to yourself and to the world in Mary’s words about this Savior Whom you know, do whatever He tells you. Say it because you know that in Him, everything for your good has already been done. Amen.

Deuteronomy 18:15-19

The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, from your brothers—it is to him you shall listen— just as you desired of the Lord your God at Horeb on the day of the assembly, when you said, ‘Let me not hear again the voice of the Lord my God or see this great fire any more, lest I die.’ And the Lord said to me, ‘They are right in what they have spoken. I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their brothers. And I will put my words in his mouth, and he shall speak to them all that I command him. And whoever will not listen to my words that he shall speak in my name, I myself will require it of him.

Romans 12:6-16

Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them: if prophecy, in proportion to our faith; if service, in our serving; the one who teaches, in his teaching; the one who exhorts, in his exhortation; the one who contributes, in generosity; the one who leads, with zeal; the one who does acts of mercy, with cheerfulness. Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight.