Third Sunday of Epiphany (2021)

24 January 2021 Third Sunday of Epiphany

Lectionary readings Revelation 19:6-10 and John 2:1-11

Our church building is closed at present, in this the third national lockdown. While the building is closed, I shall be livestreaming a weekly Service of the Word at 10.30 a.m. on Sunday mornings, via the church Facebook page. You do not need a Facebook account in order to watch.

The Order of Service can be downloaded and printed from here.

This morning’s recorded service can be found here.

 

Later this year, Jo and I will mark our Silver wedding anniversary. Twenty-five years ago, as we were preparing for married life, we were given some advice for our wedding day: before we went to bed that night, we should sit down together, alone, and each tell the other about the day. Of course, we would have both been there—at least from the start of the service—but we would have noticed different things, would have had different conversations with guests at the reception; and, in any case, the act of rehearsing the day that had been, and listening to it being described from another perspective, would help to fix the memories in our minds. Special occasion though it might be, without taking the time to intentionally reflect on what had taken place, it is amazing how quickly even a wedding can be swept away in the river of time passing.

Not so long ago now, we happened to take our wedding album off the shelf and go through it again. In fact, we have two albums: the one put together by the official wedding photographer; and another put together by a friend, who took lots of informal shots, quite deliberately from different angles: those guests milling around outside the church while particular group shots were being organised and taken. Going through another box, I found a photo someone else had taken, from that morning, of Jo arranging her hair in a full-length mirror propped-up in the living room of the little house we had bought as our first home. And I was transfixed by it; taken back to a moment I had not been present at, and through all the moments since.

Our readings today share a wedding reception theme. John’s Gospel gets going with the account of a wedding at which Jesus, along with some of his family and friends, were guests. This was, more or less, In the Beginning. And Revelation essentially concludes with another wedding, the heavenly banquet marking the consummation of the love between Jesus and the Church. Like any wedding, the Start of a New Chapter in the relationship.

And you will notice, at a wedding in Cana, that different guests notice different things. The wine has run out. We do not know how many guests have noticed yet, but soon enough everyone will. For now, Jesus’ mother notices, and brings it to her son’s attention, in front of his friends, though perhaps most of the guests, caught up in conversations of their own, will be quite unaware of this mother-and-son exchange. [Unlike the other Gospel-writers, John never refers to Jesus’ mother by name, perhaps out of respect; reserving ‘Mary’ for the sister of Martha and Lazarus, chapters 11 & 12, for Mary Magdalene, chapters 19 & 20, and, once, for Mary the wife of Clopas, chapter 19.]

Next, his mother draws Jesus to the attention of the servants; and Jesus notices the six large stone water-jars, and instructs that they be filled to the brim. From these, water is drawn and taken to the chief steward, who is oblivious of what has been going on, above. He only experiences water that had become wine; and he is confused; perhaps even frustrated. Has the bridegroom interfered in his own role, directing the servants to serve inferior wine to the guests when they arrived, wine that should have been kept in reserve until they would not really notice? Why would anyone keep back the good wine until things were winding down and everyone was thinking about going home anyway?

Neither the master of ceremonies, nor the bridegroom, know what has transpired; though the servants do, and so do Jesus’ friends, one of whom is recounting the story. And it is an unusual retelling. John does not tell us that Jesus changed the water into wine, or even that the water turned into wine; but simply, almost in passing, that the water had become wine. John does not speak of Jesus performing miracles, but of his performing signs that reveal his glory, to those who would believe in his name, those empowered to become children of God (John 1:10-14).

Did you notice that the jars were empty, or at least, no longer full? The water in them had been used, for its special purpose, ordinary water used to symbolise being washed clean. Jesus instructs the servants to refill the jars, and they do so to the very brim. Perhaps you feel depleted today. Even if you know that your failings are washed away by God’s forgiveness, perhaps you are aware of being somehow diminished in your capacity, and this might give rise to anxiety or frustration, heart sickness or anger? Such responses would be entirely understandable in the circumstances we are living with. And yet it is precisely in such emptiness that room is made for Jesus’ glory to be revealed, in your life and mine, drawing others to worship God, to experience union with the divine mystery.

I wonder how the conversation went, between the servants, at the end of a long day before they settled down for the night? Or the conversation between Jesus’ disciples, as they made their way home? Or between Jesus’ mother, who, as far as we can tell, was a widow by this point, and Jesus’ younger brothers and sisters? I wonder how the conversation went between the bridegroom and his bride, what they made of this strange disruption of their wedding day, if the bridegroom thought to mention it at all? And I wonder where you have seen Jesus’ glory revealed, in your own life?

His invitation to you today is to be filled again, not by the water of John’s baptism, but by the life-giving Holy Spirit.