Second Sunday after the Epiphany
[Proper 2], rcl yr c, 2022
1 Corinthians 12:1-11; Psalm 36:5-10; John 2:1-11
Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee,
and revealed his glory
Sometimes the gospel can feel a bit like … I want to say “a punch in the gut” but I’m not sure I like the violence of it? What I mean to say though is that sometimes, as we read the gospel, we experience something disorienting; something that hurts a bit (if we were to pay attention to what’s being said); sometimes it can take the wind out of you, and stop you short.
I felt that this week reading about the wedding at Cana. The wedding at Cana is a revelation of the glory of Christ, and this revelation of glory happens at a wedding: a celebration of life and of new beginnings; this revelation of the glory of Christ happens at a party (a party that would have lasted two or three days), this revelation of the glory of Christ happens … in a world that has no concept of social distancing.
There, in Cana, it’s a time of dancing, a time of singing, a time of partying hard in a gathered crowd of loved ones, friends, and neighbours, all together. Here, in our time, family gatherings get cancelled, carry on with a fractured few in person or over zoom, all of us apart. Even our eucharistic celebrations—deprived as we are of the common cup of wine—feels deprived too of a significant part of the glory of Jesus.
And so it seems a punch in the gut that Jesus did this, the first of his signs, at a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and that that was where he revealed his glory—under conditions that seem so so far away from where we are.
There’s a hint though, in the story, that there’s something more to God’s glory than simply what would happen at a feast of wine, food, family, and friends. When the wine has run out, and the celebration may be coming to an end, Mary comes to Jesus. Jesus is a bit grumpy, like an introvert that doesn’t really seem to be having as good a time as everyone else at the party, and says to his mother, “what concern is that to you and to me?” This is someone else’s problem, says Jesus. Let them deal with it, says Jesus. Besides, he says, “My hour has not yet come.” The hour that Jesus is referring to here is the hour that will make fullest sense of Jesus’s glory, in John: the hour of his death on the cross.
And so what Jesus is saying here is that if he were to reveal his glory in an abundance of wine so the party can carry on, it would be an incomplete revelation of his glory. That is, in the life of God in Christ there is joy, abundance, and new life; and that in the life of God in Christ there is also suffering, pain, and alienation. And that this is the fulness of the revelation of the glory of Jesus.
As grumpy as Jesus appears to be at this whole situation, though, I’d like to point out two things that happen. The first is that we see the kindness, the generosity, and the tender-heartedness of Jesus. He knows that there’s a good chance that everyone that gets a glimpse of his glory as it is revealed in Cana are probably going to misunderstand. (And us too, if we aren’t careful.) Because they’re going to think that the glory of Jesus is revealed only at the party, only in the joyful crowd only in friends and family and neighbours.
There’s a risk here, that they, (and we), would imagine that the glory of Jesus is only seen in such things as parties where the wine never runs out; risking that they, (and we), might imagine that the cross, and suffering and loneliness, are where God’s glory isn’t.
Risking all this, he provides the wine anyway. And in this risk, in this willingness, we see the kindness, the generosity, and the tender-heartedness of Jesus. Even at the risk that we don’t get the full significance of his glory as Christ crucified, he still gives, offers, and provides.
The second thing I would point out, or more accurately as David Ford points out in his commentary on John, is that as important as the setting of the joyous atmosphere is to grasping some sense of the glory of God, the ordinariness of the setting is just as important. As Ford puts it, “It is as if our usual concept of the ordinary simply needs to be enlarged to take account of the reality of God and God’s creativity, freedom, and generosity.”
For Ford, God in Christ is free to act in the ordinary: an ordinary wedding where the ordinary wine runs out. It’s not that the wedding is extraordinary, and it’s in its extraordinariness that we find God; rather, it’s in the ordinariness of family conflict, or of the fear of not having all that we need, or in the ordinariness of trying desperately to prepare a perfect table, that God’s glory is revealed in Christ. That God’s extraordinary glory is to be found in ordinary things.
What I’m trying to get at, is that yes—our present can seem, at its worst, to alternate between a suffering loneliness on the one hand, and a dreary ordinariness on the other. But the glory of God in Christ is not simply revealed in joy and splendour. Even amid the joy and splendour of the wedding at Cana, the ordinary things of life persist, and that’s where Jesus does amazing things for us. So it’s not just in the extraordinary that the glory of God is revealed, there is glory in the ordinary, too—even the ordinariness that is pressed upon us in COVID.
Most importantly though, even amid the joy and splendour of the wedding at Cana, Jesus does want to say, “I am revealed in the glory of the cross, too.” And if Luther is right, and I’m one of the ones who reckons he is, the fulness of God’s glory is found where God at first appears to be most hidden: first on the cross, and then in the messiness of our own lives.
That’s the grace of God: that in exactly those places where we believe God would never show up—in our loneliness, brokenness, distress and trauma, there God is. And even there—in our loneliness, brokenness, distress and trauma—he is as kind, as generous, and as tender-hearted as he is at Cana, where he first revealed his glory.
The Reverend Dr. Preston Parsons
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.
As our parish musician, he provides both support and leadership so that a variety of parish programs can find musical expression and attract participation. When our handbell choir is in season, he is one of our ringers. At parish dinners, he provides popular piano music for the guests to dine by. For both worship services and concerts, he will rehearse and accompany vocal and instrumental soloists from our congregation on piano, organ, or even accordion.
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.