Water Into Wine

John 2:1-11, NRSVUE

On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. ² Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. ³ When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” ⁴ And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what concern is that to me and to you? My hour has not yet come.”⁵ His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” ⁶ Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. ⁷ Jesus said to them, “Fill the jars with water.” And they filled them up to the brim. ⁸ He said to them, “Now draw some out, and take it to the person in charge of the banquet.” So they took it. ⁹ When the person in charge tasted the water that had become wine and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), that person called the bridegroom ¹⁰ and said to him, “Everyone serves the good wine first and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now.” ¹¹ Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee and revealed his glory, and his disciples believed in him.

I will never get over the fact that Jesus' first miracle recorded in the Gospel of John is turning water into wine at a wedding party.

And not just a little wine—somewhere around 180 gallons of the finest wine. Not the kind you save for last when everyone's already had too much to drink and wouldn't notice the difference anyway. But Jesus makes the best wine at the end of the party.

This tells me everything about who Jesus is. He's not stingy. He's not a killjoy. His first sign isn't removal of something bad, but the addition of something great. It's making sure a wedding party doesn't run out of booze. He cares about joy, about celebration, about people not being embarrassed. The Kingdom of God shows up at a party.

Even if John made this story up or exaggerated it (which, to be clear, I don't think he did, but even if!) I want to have such a view of Jesus that I too would make up just as outrageous and beautiful stories about him. I want to know Jesus in such a way that when someone tells me he made 180 gallons of wine at a party, my response is, "Yeah, that sounds like him."

I want to be surprised by his goodness. Not surprised because it seems out of character, but in the way you're surprised when someone you love does something even more generous than you expected from them.

I think it's hilarious that the bridegroom takes the credit for the wine in verse 10. And Jesus doesn't correct him. He doesn't need the recognition. He's fine letting someone else get the credit for his work. In fact, all good deeds are actually empowered by Jesus and he's perfectly happy to let us take the credit.

John layers meaning into this story from the very first line. "On the third day" is resurrection language. There's something here about water-to-wine as a metaphor for resurrection itself—transformation from one state of being to another, from death to life. As Paul puts it in 1 Corinthians 15, physical bodies into spiritual bodies. Brian Zahnd wrote a whole book called Water to Wine about his journey out of fundamentalism and back to Jesus, using this passage as the organizing metaphor.

The stone water jars were for Jewish purification rites. Jesus takes the containers meant for religious ritual and fills them with wine for a party. He's not abolishing the old ways—he's transforming them, fulfilling them into something that brings joy. The law pointed to life; Jesus brings the life itself.

And that's the invitation. Jesus wants to transform our watery religion into that drunk-on-the-Spirit kind of wine. He wants to take our fundamentalism and legalism—all those rules we thought would save us—and turn them into joy. He wants to take our cynicism and materialism—the way we've given up on transcendence and settled for what we can see and buy—and transform that too.

Whatever version of thin, unsatisfying religion we've been drinking, Jesus offers the good stuff. Stuff that actually makes you glad to be alive. The stuff you'd serve at a party that lasts forever.

So what needs to be transformed in my life from water into wine? Where am I living in religious duty instead of joyful abundance? Where have I settled for ritual when Jesus is offering a feast?