Sermons from a snowy pulpit
Wedding Crashers
Text: John 2:1-11 (the wedding at Cana)
Text: John 2:1-11 (the wedding at Cana)
A sermon from Woodlawn Chapel Presbyterian Church
Rev. Dr. Christopher W. Keating
Woodlawn Chapel Presbyterian Church
©1/21/2007
As his first miracle, Jesus fills empty vessels with the rich, renewing joyous wine of God’s love. It is a moment of pure transformation. The questions for us is, "How can we open our lives to that sort of transforming possibility?"
Sermon:
Weddings can be such volatile experiences…hormones, anxiety, money…all mixed together and plugged into a live electrical wire! As a pastor, I’ve grown fond of those dedicated individuals in this church who serve as wedding coordinators, helping brides and their mothers, calming fears, and instructing wayward ushers.
We have a long-time friend in Kansas City who was, for more than a quarter of a century, the bridal coordinator at my last church. As a large church with a magnificent organ and facility, the church generally hosted more than 40 weddings a year. In my opinion, Jessie Kirkbride was the quintessential wedding coordinator. She has a warm heart and eyes of steel. To understand this you need to know something about my dear friend Jessie. She has what could be described as “presence.” Loving and kind and deeply loyal to her friends, Jessie was nonetheless a force to be reckoned with when it came to the myriad of details of planning a wedding. I have watched as Jessie single-handedly dealt with nervous brides, over-reactive mothers, pale grooms and intoxicated groomsmen – all the while keeping florists and photographers in check. Woe be the photographer who unwittingly stood on the pews! Watching Jessie respond was a bit like watching Clint Eastwood play “Dirty Harry.” She’d face off with smart-aleck groomsmen or photographers, glaring at them like Dirty Harry, eyeball to eyeball, essentially telling them “You’ve got to ask yourself one question, ‘Do I feel lucky now, punk?”
With her penchant for order, Jessie always informed her wedding parties of the rules she called the “big three plus one:” No smoking, no drinking, no gum chewing, and when in doubt, listen to the pastor. As a 20-something wet behind the ears minister, I learned to love Jessie. She was my great ally in getting a wedding done. One evening, a particularly obstreperous group of ushers and groomsmen had been running in and out of the men’s dressing area, always hiding something under their coats. Jessie knew what was up. Waiting until the bride was safely down the aisle and the wedding was in progress, Jessie snuck into the changing room and immediately spied the culprit: an open bottle of very expensive whiskey. Later, as she was telling me the story, I asked Jessie, ‘What did you do?” Without batting an eye she said, “I put it in my purse and took it home!”
The bridegroom of Cana could have used someone like Jessie, for as John tells us, the party got a tad bit too raucous, and the wine ran out. You may know that in Palestine, weddings were more than mostaccioli and roast beef at the Elk’s Lodge. The miracle at Cana took place in the midst of a large social gathering in which the entire town celebrated. The custom was for these celebrations to go on for days, even a week, with the wedding couple treated as royal heads of state, adorned with crowns and addressed as kings and queens. It was, says William Barclay, a great time of joy in a land where there was much poverty and constant hard work.[1]
A time of great joy, that is, until as John laconically notes, “the wine gave out.”
It is all joy until crisis hits.
Lacking a nearby Trader Joes, everyone begins to whisper. After all, didn’t the rabbis always say, “Without wine, there is no joy?” The band stops playing, the bride’s Uncle Harry stops dancing, and the bride starts to cry. People stare at the groom in disgust. Not enough wine? Unheard of!
Perhaps the crowd looked over at Jesus, the guy who had brought a bunch of those new friends of his along with him. Andrew and Peter and Phillip, Nathanael look at their feet, then look at the red-faced groom. Unsure of what else to do, Jesus’ mother, Mary, comes up to him and announces the obvious: “They have no wine.” In haunting words, Jesus looks at his mother and says, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.”
I don’t know about your house, but where I live it is not wise to call anyone of the female gender, “woman.” It sounds harsh, and it is--until you realize that here Jesus is standing on the edge of a great moment in the gospel. Here Jesus stands upon the theological threshold of his revelation as God’s Son. It is a moment of epiphany, for him and for Mary, as they both realize that from here on out, he will be revealed as the Son of God. Jesus knows that the time is indeed coming, yet it cannot be forced by humans. Tansformation is about to happen.
And it begins as Jesus orders the servants to fill some empty, dried out vessels. The miracle happens with him restoring joy to the party. It all happens as he fills the wedding party’s cups with the finest, richest wine ever tasted. There at that wedding, Jesus transforms 120 gallons of ordinary water into an over-flowing abundance of the fruit of the vine.
Once more, all are filled with joy. Instantly, these wedding crasher friends of Jesus know that something is different. They understand that the presence of this one wedding guest had made all things new. As they celebrate the covenant of marriage, Jesus comes to offer the promise of God’s new covenant. The rich vines of the harvest have yielded to finest vintage of all…God’s revealed presence in human form. Jesus brings startling newness, filling the empty vessels with the transforming presence of God’s love.
Yes, they laugh. Yes, they rejoice. What else can you do in the face of transformation?
No longer is there crisis. No longer are the vessels empty, and the disciples believe, says John. No longer does anyone say there is not enough. There, at that moment of epiphany, the crowd stares at something new. John tells us the disciples believed. Of course they believed! They believed because here was one who could change their lives; here was one who could fill their emptiness. The otherwise ordinary wedding celebration has been lifted from its dull, lulling boredom, transformed into the party of all time! Transformation reminds us that we belong to God, and that God’s love has been uncorked.
Tom Long tells the story of returning from lunch one day to find an old friend waiting for him in his office. Putting his feet up on his desk, the guy lights a cigarette and tells Tom, “Tom, I’ve been feeling a little blue lately. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got a great life, done a lot of great things, but I think the problem is that I’m not committed to anyone or anything.” Tom looked at the man’s trembling hand, and thought about his response. His first instinct was to tell the man to go out and grab life by the horns, to get involved, join an organization, to really make a difference. But then he looked once more at the man’s trembling hands.
“You tell me that you are committed to no one, I wonder if there is anyone who is committed to you,” Tom said.
The man put his cigarette down and said, “It is hell when you don’t belong to anybody.”[2]
Jesus pours the wine, transforms lives, and fills the empty places of our souls. The message of this miracle reminds us to whom we belong, and John hints that more transformations will soon occur. Those vessels Jesus filled with new wine were standing ready to be used in Jewish rites of purification. Yet, Christ commandeers them for a new and transforming purpose: he fills them with the wonderful new creation of God that tells the world, you belong. You belong to me.
The abundance of that wine will transform us, if we allow it. It will transform us by reminding us of our identity, and what we are called to be. Yesterday, a group of us were working Amy Fowler, who is the associate executive presbyter of our Presbytery for church development. Amy shared with us a story about the First Presbyterian Church Sayre, Pennsylvania. Sadly, like many churches in our denomination, the church was struggling to remain open, to find a mission. The church had dwindled down to only a handful of members, about 70. Members began talking about what they could do to serve Christ in the community, and they discovered that over half of the children in their neighborhood school district received reduced or free lunches. Of course that took care of the kid’s lunch needs during the weekdays, but what happened on weekends? Many of the children were hungry. The church discovered that about 68 children from a Head Start program were going hungry all weekend long. Being good Presbyterians, the church took action…they formed a committee! They began filling those empty stomachs with two meals every weekend. Soon other organizations heard about their work, and began helping the church meet the needs of those children. It wasn’t water into wine, but the transformation of that church was just as dramatic.
If God can turn ordinary water into fine wine, if Christ fills empty vessels with new wine, and if elderly Presbyterians from a small church in Pennsylvania can fill the stomachs of needy children, tell me this: what do you think God will do with the emptiness in your life? What can God do with the emptiness in our church? In our world? Amen.
Rev. Dr. Christopher W. Keating
Woodlawn Chapel Presbyterian Church
©1/21/2007
As his first miracle, Jesus fills empty vessels with the rich, renewing joyous wine of God’s love. It is a moment of pure transformation. The questions for us is, "How can we open our lives to that sort of transforming possibility?"
Sermon:
Weddings can be such volatile experiences…hormones, anxiety, money…all mixed together and plugged into a live electrical wire! As a pastor, I’ve grown fond of those dedicated individuals in this church who serve as wedding coordinators, helping brides and their mothers, calming fears, and instructing wayward ushers.
We have a long-time friend in Kansas City who was, for more than a quarter of a century, the bridal coordinator at my last church. As a large church with a magnificent organ and facility, the church generally hosted more than 40 weddings a year. In my opinion, Jessie Kirkbride was the quintessential wedding coordinator. She has a warm heart and eyes of steel. To understand this you need to know something about my dear friend Jessie. She has what could be described as “presence.” Loving and kind and deeply loyal to her friends, Jessie was nonetheless a force to be reckoned with when it came to the myriad of details of planning a wedding. I have watched as Jessie single-handedly dealt with nervous brides, over-reactive mothers, pale grooms and intoxicated groomsmen – all the while keeping florists and photographers in check. Woe be the photographer who unwittingly stood on the pews! Watching Jessie respond was a bit like watching Clint Eastwood play “Dirty Harry.” She’d face off with smart-aleck groomsmen or photographers, glaring at them like Dirty Harry, eyeball to eyeball, essentially telling them “You’ve got to ask yourself one question, ‘Do I feel lucky now, punk?”
With her penchant for order, Jessie always informed her wedding parties of the rules she called the “big three plus one:” No smoking, no drinking, no gum chewing, and when in doubt, listen to the pastor. As a 20-something wet behind the ears minister, I learned to love Jessie. She was my great ally in getting a wedding done. One evening, a particularly obstreperous group of ushers and groomsmen had been running in and out of the men’s dressing area, always hiding something under their coats. Jessie knew what was up. Waiting until the bride was safely down the aisle and the wedding was in progress, Jessie snuck into the changing room and immediately spied the culprit: an open bottle of very expensive whiskey. Later, as she was telling me the story, I asked Jessie, ‘What did you do?” Without batting an eye she said, “I put it in my purse and took it home!”
The bridegroom of Cana could have used someone like Jessie, for as John tells us, the party got a tad bit too raucous, and the wine ran out. You may know that in Palestine, weddings were more than mostaccioli and roast beef at the Elk’s Lodge. The miracle at Cana took place in the midst of a large social gathering in which the entire town celebrated. The custom was for these celebrations to go on for days, even a week, with the wedding couple treated as royal heads of state, adorned with crowns and addressed as kings and queens. It was, says William Barclay, a great time of joy in a land where there was much poverty and constant hard work.[1]
A time of great joy, that is, until as John laconically notes, “the wine gave out.”
It is all joy until crisis hits.
Lacking a nearby Trader Joes, everyone begins to whisper. After all, didn’t the rabbis always say, “Without wine, there is no joy?” The band stops playing, the bride’s Uncle Harry stops dancing, and the bride starts to cry. People stare at the groom in disgust. Not enough wine? Unheard of!
Perhaps the crowd looked over at Jesus, the guy who had brought a bunch of those new friends of his along with him. Andrew and Peter and Phillip, Nathanael look at their feet, then look at the red-faced groom. Unsure of what else to do, Jesus’ mother, Mary, comes up to him and announces the obvious: “They have no wine.” In haunting words, Jesus looks at his mother and says, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.”
I don’t know about your house, but where I live it is not wise to call anyone of the female gender, “woman.” It sounds harsh, and it is--until you realize that here Jesus is standing on the edge of a great moment in the gospel. Here Jesus stands upon the theological threshold of his revelation as God’s Son. It is a moment of epiphany, for him and for Mary, as they both realize that from here on out, he will be revealed as the Son of God. Jesus knows that the time is indeed coming, yet it cannot be forced by humans. Tansformation is about to happen.
And it begins as Jesus orders the servants to fill some empty, dried out vessels. The miracle happens with him restoring joy to the party. It all happens as he fills the wedding party’s cups with the finest, richest wine ever tasted. There at that wedding, Jesus transforms 120 gallons of ordinary water into an over-flowing abundance of the fruit of the vine.
Once more, all are filled with joy. Instantly, these wedding crasher friends of Jesus know that something is different. They understand that the presence of this one wedding guest had made all things new. As they celebrate the covenant of marriage, Jesus comes to offer the promise of God’s new covenant. The rich vines of the harvest have yielded to finest vintage of all…God’s revealed presence in human form. Jesus brings startling newness, filling the empty vessels with the transforming presence of God’s love.
Yes, they laugh. Yes, they rejoice. What else can you do in the face of transformation?
No longer is there crisis. No longer are the vessels empty, and the disciples believe, says John. No longer does anyone say there is not enough. There, at that moment of epiphany, the crowd stares at something new. John tells us the disciples believed. Of course they believed! They believed because here was one who could change their lives; here was one who could fill their emptiness. The otherwise ordinary wedding celebration has been lifted from its dull, lulling boredom, transformed into the party of all time! Transformation reminds us that we belong to God, and that God’s love has been uncorked.
Tom Long tells the story of returning from lunch one day to find an old friend waiting for him in his office. Putting his feet up on his desk, the guy lights a cigarette and tells Tom, “Tom, I’ve been feeling a little blue lately. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got a great life, done a lot of great things, but I think the problem is that I’m not committed to anyone or anything.” Tom looked at the man’s trembling hand, and thought about his response. His first instinct was to tell the man to go out and grab life by the horns, to get involved, join an organization, to really make a difference. But then he looked once more at the man’s trembling hands.
“You tell me that you are committed to no one, I wonder if there is anyone who is committed to you,” Tom said.
The man put his cigarette down and said, “It is hell when you don’t belong to anybody.”[2]
Jesus pours the wine, transforms lives, and fills the empty places of our souls. The message of this miracle reminds us to whom we belong, and John hints that more transformations will soon occur. Those vessels Jesus filled with new wine were standing ready to be used in Jewish rites of purification. Yet, Christ commandeers them for a new and transforming purpose: he fills them with the wonderful new creation of God that tells the world, you belong. You belong to me.
The abundance of that wine will transform us, if we allow it. It will transform us by reminding us of our identity, and what we are called to be. Yesterday, a group of us were working Amy Fowler, who is the associate executive presbyter of our Presbytery for church development. Amy shared with us a story about the First Presbyterian Church Sayre, Pennsylvania. Sadly, like many churches in our denomination, the church was struggling to remain open, to find a mission. The church had dwindled down to only a handful of members, about 70. Members began talking about what they could do to serve Christ in the community, and they discovered that over half of the children in their neighborhood school district received reduced or free lunches. Of course that took care of the kid’s lunch needs during the weekdays, but what happened on weekends? Many of the children were hungry. The church discovered that about 68 children from a Head Start program were going hungry all weekend long. Being good Presbyterians, the church took action…they formed a committee! They began filling those empty stomachs with two meals every weekend. Soon other organizations heard about their work, and began helping the church meet the needs of those children. It wasn’t water into wine, but the transformation of that church was just as dramatic.
If God can turn ordinary water into fine wine, if Christ fills empty vessels with new wine, and if elderly Presbyterians from a small church in Pennsylvania can fill the stomachs of needy children, tell me this: what do you think God will do with the emptiness in your life? What can God do with the emptiness in our church? In our world? Amen.
References:
[1] William Barclay, John - The Daily Study Bible, vol. 1, p.97. (Louisville, KY: Westminster/John Knox Press.
[2]Thomas G. Long, recorded lecture at Princeton Theological Seminary, (Princeton, NJ: 1987).
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