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Today we have the story of Jesus picking up the tab at a wedding reception.

We’re in the season of Epiphany. Epiphany is when we think about Jesus, the Christ, being made known, or manifested, to the world. The first Sunday was from Matthew and had the Magi from the East; last week was his baptism as told by Luke and being acknowledged by God as his beloved Son; next week is Jesus’ first sermon in his home synagogue, where he reads part of Isaiah. And, of course, we’re hard on the heels of Christmas and the manifestation of God as a vulnerable baby, completely reliant on human care.

But today we have the very familiar account from the Gospel of John of the first miracle of Jesus, which was performed at the wedding at Cana. And, on the face of it, helping with the catering seems a rather low-key introduction.

Publicity

Because if you were to announce yourself on the world’s stage as the incarnated God, what wonderful act would you do first? Would you publicly heal a celebrity who had been very obviously unwell? Would you bring rain to a land suffering from long-term drought? Or would you bring world peace?

And what would your publicity be like to make sure everyone knew about it? You’d probably hire a media manager and announce it in advance to build up some expectation. Perhaps you’d go to a large arena, with a good sound system, so that you could be seen and heard by everyone? To spread the word more widely you might not need a TV crew now, just someone with a phone and a savvy approach to social media – but you would do something to make sure people heard about it and not least think carefully about the location.

Anything good?

But, for Jesus’ first miracle, here we are in Cana, of all places. We’re not centre stage in Rome or Jerusalem but Cana in Galilee. The back end of the empire. Scholars aren’t even exactly sure where Cana was, but the most likely candidate makes it a small village a few miles from Nazareth. Far enough away for Nathaniel, who was from Cana, in a bit of local village rivalry, to say “does anything good come from Nazareth?” Like someone from Bury might say: “does anything good come from Bolton”.

But it’s close enough for Mary and Jesus to be known and invited to the wedding. Perhaps Mary and Jesus were related to the couple in some way. And maybe that’s why Mary is so concerned. It was the responsibility of the extended family to provide for the wedding, it didn’t just fall on the couple. Any shortfall or failure, and the shame which went with it, would have reflected on all of the family for their communal lack of provision.

But our reading says that the disciples were invited too – though, according to John, Jesus had only just called the disciples in the two days before the wedding. Let’s assume local lad Nathaniel was going anyway. But for the rest, this must have been a very last-minute invitation. Perhaps the disciples created the problem of the wine running out by being there! Were they eleven extra and very thirsty guests who hadn’t been catered for?…

Cajoled

And Jesus has to be cajoled into doing this first miracle. Does Mary give him a ‘mother’s look’ at his initial negative reply, a reply which she refused to take as being a ‘no’? What made her so confident that he could do something? Had there been signs in private of what he was capable of?

Or indeed – 30 years on from the words of the angels, and Elizabeth, and the events in Bethlehem and Simeon’s song in Jerusalem – was Mary getting impatient and wondering whether something would actually ever happen? Had it all been a dreadful mistake or did Jesus show enough promise to just need a mother’s nudge – and now seemed as good a time as any.

It may not be a coincidence but, in Judaism, 30 is a moment of truth when you if you are ever to be ready for leadership then it’s now. It’s when, in the OT, Joseph went from prisoner to prime minister in a matter of hours (Genesis 41:46). It’s when Ezekiel first encountered the Divine. So, was this Jesus’ time?

Wine merchant

And for his first miracle, Jesus doesn’t heal anyone, or do an exorcism or feed a hungry crowd. Instead, he picks up the tab and makes sure that everyone has enough wine! It’s not life or death. Sure, there would be shame and embarrassment for the family if they ran out – but making wine seems frivolous somehow… Doesn’t it?

And he does it in industrial quantities. 6 jars of up to 30 gallons each. That’s 180 gallons or 820 litres or 1100 bottles of wine. And the good stuff too! We’ve no idea how many guests there were or how many days to go, in a celebration that could last a week, but you have to guess that this was way more wine than was needed.

And if you’re not paying attention, then you might actually miss the miracle itself. Jesus quietly says to the servants, “Fill the jars with water”; so, they filled them to the brim. Then he tells them, “Now draw some out and take it to the master of the banquet.”

That’s it. A few whispered words away from the main celebration. There was no big announcement. Jesus didn’t interrupt the wedding reception DJ, or the dad-dancing, tap on the microphone, and tell everyone what he was about to do. The only ones that knew, at least beforehand, were his mother and the servants. I imagine afterwards that the servants would have gossiped about it – or that the bride and groom would have come asking questions – and word would have got out soon enough. Enough, certainly, for the disciples to believe.

A sign

But John doesn’t even call it a miracle. He calls it a sign. And except for one, all of the other signs in John are rather understated too. He heals the officials’ son from a distance; he makes the lame to walk by simply saying “get up”; he feeds thousands by pronouncing a simple blessing over the meal; he walks on water at night just to get the other side of the lake – and he heals a blind man by putting mud on his eyes and asking him to go and wash. The only exception is Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead with a loud shout.

So, what do we take from all this? If this is how God is made manifest, how God is made known to the world, then what on earth do we learn?

Well, it’s thought that John’s Gospel was initially written to the people of Ephesus. One of the principal gods in Ephesus was the Greek god, Dionysius. Known to the Romans as Bacchus. There’s more than one legend of Dionysius turning water into wine. So, maybe John was saying that Dionysius was only a myth – but Jesus was flesh and blood and really did have the power of transformation, rather than just the illusion of it.

The very best

And at the time, communal meals were not served indiscriminately to guests. They were strictly based on social status. Some would just get the cheapest food and drink. The wine would be mixed with water and vinegar, such as was offered to Jesus on the cross. Whilst others would get the fine wine, the grand cru. Like the top table having the best champagne and everyone else got the cheap stuff. The good news, the Gospel, is that the wine of Jesus is the same for everyone – and for everyone it’s the very best that you can get.

Historians tell us that there was real hardship and shortage in the rural communities in Israel at that time due to the tithes, tributes and taxes that were expected. The physical nature of this miracle, that could be shared amongst all those present, shouldn’t be underestimated.

And maybe John was thinking of the Hebrew Scriptures where wine is used as a symbol of the joy and celebration which comes from salvation. The prophet Amos speaks of a time when ‘mountains shall drip sweet wine and all the hills shall flow with it’ (9:13). Isaiah tells of the feast which God prepares for all peoples, ‘a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines’ (25:6).

So, the extravagant abundance of wine at Cana is a sign of the abundance of joy that awaits all peoples on the day of God’s salvation. Then, later in John, Jesus says: “I have come that they might have life and have it abundantly” (10:10). Abundant life is to have a relationship with the God who loves us so much that he doesn’t know how or when to stop giving.

A parable

But I wonder too if we can read this story like a parable, or a number of parables, to which you can make your own interpretations:

• The Kingdom of God is where small rural villages are put on the map.
• The Kingdom of God is like a wedding where the servants, and not those who think they’re in charge, know what’s really going on.
• The Kingdom of God is where most people don’t even know that a miracle is happening right at this very moment.
• The Kingdom of God is where mother knows best…

Or maybe it’s simpler than that. Perhaps we learn that God is someone who comes to weddings, who mingles with us and enjoys our company, who expects our time together to be well, joyful – and who gives more than can ever be asked or expected.

Or is it that God sometimes comes and does his work quietly. No claps of thunder. No fanfares or earthquakes. That the glory of God is not what we expect it to be – but that God responds to our human needs in ways that are hidden and mysterious and generous… He might just need a mother’s nudge.

But maybe it’s more complicated. That we feel like we’re an earthenware pot that’s largely empty. And we have few expectations now. Perhaps we learn from this that at any moment, water may come rushing in – and that, unexpectedly, within us there may then be an astonishing sweetness and depth and colour that tells us this isn’t the end, but that there is much, much more to come. Amen.

‘The wedding at Cana – Jesus picks up the tab’ was delivered by Ian Banks at St John with St Mark, Bury on 19th January 2025. It was based on John 2:1-11.

References:

• Card, M. (2014). John – The Gospel of Wisdom. IVP.
• Horsley, R. (2012). The Prophet Jesus and the Renewal of Israel. Eerdmans.
• https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/second-sunday-after-epiphany-3/commentary-on-john-21-11-8