Water into Wine - The Rev. Dr. Elise Feyerherm, Jan. 19th, 2025

For centuries, Christians have associated Jesus’ miracle with some kind of divine endorsement of the sacrament of marriage. In the 1979 Book of Common Prayer the priest introduces the ceremony by saying that “our Lord Jesus Christ adorned this manner of life by his presence and first miracle at a wedding in Cana of Galilee.” This reference goes back all the way to the first Book of Common Prayer in 1549.

But in the past decade, as the Episcopal Church has continued to revise our rite of marriage, we eliminated this reference. Why? Because we think Jesus didn’t approve of weddings? Of course not – but as we consider this pivotal story in John’s gospel, we need to ask ourselves, what is this story really about? In the gospel writer’s mind, was this a story about the importance of marriage, or something else? And if it isn’t about marriage, then should we be using it to shore up our theology of marriage? And so, from generation to generation, we keep reading scripture, and we remain open to challenging or at least revising our old interpretations and uses.

So if this story isn’t really about weddings, what is it about? And there’s not just one answer to that question, by the way – remember, because this is divine scripture, it is deep and wide and complex in its variegated beauty. There is no end to what we might find.

But one thing we have learned is that as we explore the many meanings of a scripture passage, we need to understand the many historical and cultural contexts of these stories. What they meant for its original authors and audience guides us in understanding what they mean for us.

The shift I mentioned at the beginning of this sermon is an example of this, the way we are becoming more cautious about taking secondary aspects of the story and making them foundations for our primary theology. Another is this – what do we make of the fact that Jesus turns water into wine? What did that mean for first century people?

Scholar and priest Andrew McGowan reminds us that while we may think of wine as a luxury, in the first century, “Wine in this world is not a symbol, or even a treat, but a foodstuff.” “Wine,” McGowan asserts, “was food,” and nothing less than that. It was a vital way of preserving a crop that otherwise would have spoiled – and people needed the calories it provided. Jesus is not interested in making sure the wedding guests have a good time – he is making sure they are fed, and fed abundantly. This miracle is about providing what is needed for people’s very life.

Just as later in the gospel Jesus will multiply loaves and fishes on a mountainside, the very first sign of Jesus’ identity is a sign of sustenance, of giving the people all that they need, and more. It is also a sign of community preserved, of dignity restored. For the hosts at this wedding banquet to have run out of wine would have been a deep embarrassment, one that others could easily have ridiculed and scorned. What we humans miscalculate, Jesus corrects and fills to the brim, and does it with food of the finest quality.

One of my favorite references to the miracle at Cana comes from Dante’s Divine Comedy, in the middle section called “Purgatory,” where those destined for salvation are cleansed of their sin and prepared for heaven. On the level where those suffering from the sin of envy are being purged, Dante hears voices of unseen flying spirits, and the first one is heard to say, “Vinum non habent” – “they have no wine.” They are voicing the words of Jesus’ mother Mary, words that are more than just a statement of fact, but an expression of charitable concern.

Rather than laugh at the hapless hosts or take pleasure in them being taken down a peg, Mary exhibits the opposite of those whose envy leads them to resent another’s good fortune or delight in others’ misfortune. She could have let the situation devolve; she could have said, it’s someone else’s problem. But she didn’t. And when her Son seems not to grasp the seriousness of the situation, she persists, saying to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” Jesus may be the Incarnate Word, but Mary is the first in this situation to see what people need, and press for a solution.

It may seem like another circumstantial detail, like the fact that this miracle takes place at a wedding.   But it isn’t. What begins to emerge is a vision of what Martin Luther King Jr. and now we in his stead have called “The Beloved Community.” A community where there is plenty of what people really need, where no one is shamed or left to starve. Where generosity, not envy, prevails.

The movement that King spearheaded was something we have not seen the likes of since, and we are poorer for having lost sight of what held that movement together. It was not just about fighting against racism and poverty and for justice; it was rooted in deep practices of generosity and nonviolence, both physical and spiritual. The spirit of King’s civil rights movement rejected any idea of rejoicing in the sufferings of the perceived enemy, recognized the opponent’s poverty of spirit, and invited those opponents to share in the banquet.

Those who participated in that movement were schooled in the ways of bible study, prayer, and spiritual and emotional discipline. And although that aspect of the movement has sometimes been forgotten, we have not. I rejoice to see us at St. Paul’s diving more deeply into practices of praying and reading the bible together, in our outreach discernment meetings, in Saturday prayer retreats, in Education for Ministry, scripture group, and other groups. Lenten House Church is coming up in March, with a chance to gather for prayer, a simple meal, and holy conversation. After Lent we are hoping to plant other small groups in various neighborhoods, for the same purpose – read the bible, pray with and for each other, and invite others to join.

We need these deep and intentional practices in the days to come, as we come face to face with what it means to be Christian in a world that does not value care and humility. When we are feeling anxious, and all around us are fear and scorn of the opponent, when political movements on all sides assume that only violence, both spiritual and physical, will achieve the goals of justice, we need the wine that Jesus offers. We need these practices of Beloved Community as Martin Luther King and others taught.

Blessed be God, who in Jesus is giving us the sustenance we need to live and grow, inviting us to drink from the river of delights. Blessed be God, who with our mother Mary is turning our watery envy into rich, nourishing generosity. Blessed be God, whose wine is even now making of us the Beloved Community the world needs.