The Wedding Guest

Elizabeth M. Hoster
January 14, 2007
2nd Sunday afterEpiphany
John 2:1-11

Note: I am greatly indebted to the Rev. Herbert O’Driscoll for his interpretation of this Gospel as delivered in a November 2005 conference at the College of Preachers in Washington, DC. Also, many thanks to the Rev. Bob Hudak, also a student of O’Driscoll, for his sermon of January 18, 2004 on this Gospel.

I want you to imagine this scene with me: This church is packed. All of you are smooshed together, sharing bulletins, helping the out-of towners find their places in the prayer books. It’s June, and it’s hot–the air conditioner isn’t helping much at all.

It’s a huge wedding! The biggest one this church has ever seen. Everybody on the guest list is there, even though half of you didn’t respond. And yes, the parents of the bride and groom are sweating bullets, as they have no clue how they are going to feed all of you!

After the wedding, all of us are trying to get into Hunter Hall for the reception. The garden is full, the tables inside and out are packed, and the whole party is backed up into the hallway. The crowd is so huge that some choir members have rolled up their sleeves and are helping in the kitchen, because that’s what they do. And some members of the pastoral care team are helping to serve, because that’s what they do.

In the far corner of Hunter Hall, near the opening into the kitchen, Mary, the mother of Jesus, is talking to Janet Morris, Phyllis Atwood, and David Ramkey. "You won’t believe this," Phyllis says. "They’re running out of wine."
"What?" says Mary. "Are you kidding? No way–this is Saint John’s! They NEVER run out of wine! Have you looked around the church?

"I’ve looked everywhere," says Janet. "The kitchen, the sacristy, the safe, everywhere–and there is no more wine."
"Hmmm," says Mary. "Come with me."

So Janet, Phyllis and David all follow Mary down the stairs and out to the garden.

Jesus and the disciples are out in the garden in the corner closest to the door. (Hey, after being in the church for so long, Peter just had to have a cigarette.) They part a little when Mary and her friend come down the stairs. (Peter hastily puts his smoke.)

Mary goes over to Jesus, repeats the problem, and gets an irritated reply.

What happened next is not in the text–that golden glance that only a mother can give her son--and there is a slightly uncomfortable stretch of silence. Finally, Mary turns to David and says, "Do whatever he tells you!"

And they do. There’s some commotion as David and Bob Swartz and Zeb Wright and all of those folks on the garden committee try to fill six big jars with the garden spigot, but they get them filled.

When a sample is delivered to Stan Forrest, he can’t believe it. He goes up to the bridegroom, shaking his head. "Most people would be serving the Winking Owl and two-buck chuck by now. But this–nobody expected this. The wine you were serving was great. But this–this is wonderful, different, even better!"

Why did Jesus do this as his first miracle? And for Pete’s sake, why did he go and do it in our garden? He did it because it is the one miracle that applies to all of us. It is the one miracle we all need!

Because, in all of our lives, at some point, the wine runs out. The wine can run out of a marriage.

The wine can run out of a ministry.

The wine can run out of a friendship.

The wine can run out of a job.

The wine can run out of our health.

The new wine of life: our good looks, our charm, innocence, & youthful energy–we all know that that wine definitely runs out.

It is at that point that we better have invited into our lives the one guest that can do something about it. That guest is Christ.

And Christ has been to the wedding. He’s been to all of the weddings, indeed to all of the celebrations we have had in this church. Every good time, and every sad time, He has been here. He was at Edgewood with us on December 29, when we thanked Karl and Mary, and every table was filled and the party spilled out into the next room. He was here with us last week, when we gathered to celebrate and say one last goodbye to Karl and Mary. The church was full, every table was packed, and the party spilled out into the hallway. And Christ is here this morning, because we have invited Him.

After last Sunday, I am sure some of you thought, "That’s it. It’s gone. The wine has run out." But in this Gospel this morning, Christ says to us "Come here. Come look into these big jars of water with me. You think this is ordinary water–you think that the celebration is done. But look again. Look into the water–look into the ordinary water of your lives. Look into the water of your baptism. See your face reflected in that water--and see my face in the reflection, right beside you. I’m gonna transform this into something you have never tasted before. Don’t be afraid. You’re gonna love it."
We may feel this morning as though we are out of wine.

By my count, the saints of John have sat together on a Sunday much like this one 25 times, not counting interim rectors. And I am willing to bet that on each of those Sundays they too thought they were out of wine. But we’ve always invited Jesus to celebrate with us, and so we’ve never run out.

Let me be clear: the wine is not about the priest. It is about Christ, and it is about you turning over the water of your lives to Christ and trusting Him to transform them. As long as we keep inviting Him into our lives, we won’t run out.. And HE won’t run out. He can’t run out, because, even though we treat Him as the guest, we know He is really the host–the Host who assures that we never run out of what is worth celebrating.

Jesus invites us this morning to look at all the water in our lives–to look at what we think is ordinary, not worth celebrating, and find the gifts that God has given us in ourselves and in each other. The water of our lives is made up of so much: the stuff we think is ordinary, our baptismal waters, our sweat, and our tears.

This morning, Jesus shows that he takes all of that, and blesses it, and turns it into a feast of well-aged wine. He has done it countless times, and He will do it again. By His first miracle this morning, He says to us, "Yes, the wine you had was wonderful. But stick around. The best is yet to come."