A River of Wine and a Mountain of Bread

Juan de Flandes – The Marriage Feast at Cana (1496) – from the Polyptych of Isabella the Catholic’ photo (c) 2012, Playing Futures:

Here is a sermon from my archives for the second Sunday after Epiphany that pairs the wine of John 2 with the bread of John 6.

A Stunning Abundance
A Sermon on John 2:1-12 and John 6:1-15, 48-59

When Jesus responded, “Ma’am, is this really our business?  My hour hasn’t come yet,” his mind was on the hour and the wedding feast that was yet to come.   But Mary his mother was not in the least put off by Jesus’ comment. She saw a need: the wedding wine ran out.  Whether it was a major or minor problem was beside the point.  Mary was sure Jesus could do something about it, and she was sure Jesus would do something about it.  Straightaway she turned to the servants and said, “Do whatever he tells you.”

For the people of the little village of Cana, wedding feasts were a joyful respite from the daily grind of hardship.  Wedding celebrations took place at the home of the bridegroom.  The partying lasted an entire week.  Wine was the beverage of choice because it symbolized joy, blessing, and even life itself.  It was also used for medicine, for healing and restoring life.  Indeed, the Old Testament prophets said that when the Messiah comes, the mountains are going to drip with wine!  Wine is going to flow like a river!

The groom’s family planned carefully and purchased the best wine they could afford.  To run out in the middle of the festivities was a painful embarrassment.  Mary and Jesus and their family may have been related to this particular groom.  In any event, she was close enough to the family and to the servants to see what had gone wrong, and to want to help.  Surely Jesus and his disciples could at least pool their resources and discreetly purchase enough wine to tide this family over.  “They have no wine,” she told him.  Matter of fact.

Some time later, Jesus saw a huge, hungry crowd approaching.  This time, Jesus pointed out the need.  “Where are we going to buy bread for all these people to eat?” he remarked to his disciple Philip.  Immediately Philip went to calculating the costs and considering the logistics.  It would cost more than six months’ wages to buy enough to give everyone even a tiny piece of bread.  Andrew added, “There’s a boy here who has five loaves of bread and two fish, but that’s nothing among so many.”  That’s not enough to even begin to go around.  It would feed one or two.  Now only 4998 or 9 to go.

Not enough wine.  Not enough bread.  It sounds familiar.  Who doesn’t know what it’s like not to have enough of something needed?  Not enough time.  Not enough energy.  Not enough money.  Running out of patience, running out of strength, running out of hope.

And even if there is enough for the moment, people are often afraid that there might not be enough later.  What if I lose my job, and especially what if I lose my job before all the children are through college?  What if my money runs out before my life runs out?  What if the church can’t come up with enough money to do all that needs to be done around here?  What if we run out?

Sometimes the shortages are critical and painful, and we take those right on to the Lord in prayer.  But what about the little problems? Is the Lord really concerned about them?  Or does he have his mind on more important things?  Some people decide not to bother God with such things.

Maybe the wedding wine shortage wasn’t an earthshaking problem, and maybe the hungry crowd could survive with low blood sugar levels until they got home.  But Mary, for one, lost no time debating whether or not to take the problem to Jesus.  She was sure Jesus could act in some way, and she was sure Jesus would act in some way.  She trusted him.

And act he did.  In both cases Jesus acted with stunning, outlandish generosity.  Picture the bread piling up among the hungry crowd!  Jesus took the bread, gave thanks to God, and started handing it out. And on and on he went, piece after piece after piece.

Consider the wine.  John tells us that there were six stone jars at the bridegroom’s house, and each could hold twenty to thirty gallons of water.  A great deal of water was needed for all the washing of hands and feet as the sacred law required.

Now think of the time it would take to haul 180 gallons of water from a well to fill up the jars to the brim.  That’s enough water to completely fill three bathtubs.  Would you blame the servants if they were reluctant?  Yet they went on and did it.  This took some time.

Now I calculated—if my arithmetic is correct—180 gallons of wine yields 3,840 six-ounce servings—about the size of my water glass here.  It is a stunning abundance, a fountain of wine, every bit as astounding as 5000 servings of bread.

Jesus was lavish.  This wasn’t the cheap “thunderbird” type wine, either.  This last wine was choice.  It made the groom and his family look good in everyone’s eyes.  “I declare!” exclaimed the master of ceremonies to the groom.  “Everybody serves the good wine first, and then the lesser quality after folks can’t tell the difference any more.  But you have saved the best wine until last!”  The groom must have felt confused.  Where did this exquisite vintage come from?  The servants and disciples and Mary and Jesus in the background knew.

Still more than 5000 people could have shared the bread that day on the mountainside.  The disciples gathered up twelve baskets of leftovers, one for each of the twelve tribes of Israel.

It’s clear.  Through Jesus Christ, God’s generosity overflows.  Christ is pleased to give.  He is pleased to share.  He wants to feed the hungry and give drink to the thirsty.  He wants to respond to human need.  He wants to respond to our needs.  He wants to respond to your needs.  Christ is not at all stingy with his mercy and kindness and love.

But as marvelous as the mountain of bread and the river of wine are, they are only signs.  They pale in comparison to the even greater miracle they point to.  The wine and the bread point to the Lord’s most outrageous, stunning act of generosity of all, to the hour of hours, the hour of the cross, and to the third day, beyond the tomb.  Jesus’ flesh becomes the bread of life, and his blood becomes the wine of salvation.  Jesus Christ is the bread of gladness, and he is the wine of joy, and God’s wedding party, the great marriage feast of the Lamb, is now in progress.  Christ is the host, the bridegroom, the food and the drink, the very life of the feast.  The party is getting in swing; the party is getting started!  But just wait until it’s in full gear!

Then everybody will be at the table he has prepared for us.  Our cups will be running over with the wine of life.  He will wipe away every single tear that eases down our cheeks, and there won’t be any more crying or pain or evil or death.

Christ Jesus is the bread and wine we need for abundant life here, and into all eternity.  This is the medicine that overcomes sin, and the strength that sustains us in suffering.  This is the nourishment that satisfies the deepest hungers of our hearts.  Christ Jesus graces our weddings and all the big moments of our lives with his generous presence, and he also graces all the small moments.  He graces our tables every time we sit down to break bread.  He graces us with his presence as we struggle to be his people, and do his will.  Why do we not expect him to be generous?  Consider this congregation: has he ever not provided what this church needs?  Christ Jesus loves us more completely and generously than we can even comprehend.  This is his glory.  His disciples glimpsed it that day in Cana.  They saw who the true life of the party was.  They saw it even more clearly in what he did for us all on the cross.  And they trusted him.

Some people missed the meaning of the signs, though.  The well-fed crowd’s stomachs started growling again the next day.  “Just think of it,” they said to one another, “how much easier Jesus could make our lives, giving us bread every day!”  They wanted to make him king.  They wanted him to be a bread machine.

The religious leaders, so certain they had God figured out, were scandalized when Jesus tried to teach them that he himself is the bread of heaven and the wine of salvation, and that this is what they need for life.  This is the way to connect to God, and abide in God.  “This can’t be,” they complained.  “This is Joseph’s son.  We know his family.  He hasn’t come from heaven.  How can he give us his flesh to eat?”

They themselves ended up making that happen when they condemned him, handed his body over to be broken and made his blood flow on the cross.

The bride and groom and all the wedding guests were unaware of what Jesus had so quietly done in the kitchen.  But I am sure they later learned of the great gift he gave them on their wedding day.  I hope they received the even greater gift he wanted to give them, his very own life.

Mary and the servants had the right idea.  The way to respond is to do whatever he tells you.  Mary trusted Jesus all along.  She probably couldn’t predict what he would do.  She probably wasn’t expecting so lavish and wonderful a response.  She just loved Jesus and trusted him to help.  Her heart was open and expectant.  Indeed one beautiful painting of this story shows her with open, relaxed hands, and loving, expectant eyes.  Her word:  “Do whatever he tells you.”

Friends, Jesus Christ wants to help us with all our needs great and small.  He can, and he will.  He loves us with all his heart, and soul, and mind and strength.  He wants to give us his own life as food and drink, that we might feast at his table forever.  Thanks be to God!  This is the way to respond: do whatever he tells us.

Advertisement