EPIPHANY III

January 24, 2010

St. Augustine Anglican Church

“Woman, what have I to do with thee?”

The Rev. Gerald Parks +

          Today’s Gospel (John 2: 1-11), concerning the Wedding at Cana, contains a curious phrase spoken by our Lord to His mother, which, given the circumstances, seems less than polite, almost rude.  The narrative relates, “And the mother of Jesus was there: and both Jesus was called, and his disciples, to the marriage.” (John 2: 1-2)  Weddings then as now were a chance for relatives and friends to come together for celebrations of feasting and dancing; and food and drink (in this case wine) were very much a part of the festivities.  It would be now, and it was then, a serious break of custom and etiquette to run out of either one; but at the Wedding at Cana, that is exactly what happened: and when she saw it, “the mother of Jesus saith unto him, They have no wine. Jesus saith unto her, Woman, what have I to do with thee? my hour has not yet come.” (John 2: 3-4)

          Because of an over-enthusiastic translation of a (then) common Hebrew turn of phrase, it seems by the text that Jesus is reproaching His mother.  The common phrase that He uses is, “What to me or to thee,” which can imply rebuke but in this case means that she not only does not understand that He is well aware of the embarrassing situation, but that He is preparing to remedy it at the proper moment.  Then Jesus discreetly tells the servants to fill the six stone water-pots with water: “And they filled them up to the brim. And he saith unto them, Draw out now, and bear to the governor of the feast.” (John 2: 7-8)  No one knew (except the servants) where this “new” wine came from, and the party continued, one supposes, without embarrassment to the hosts, until its end.

          The fact that Jesus participated in a wedding feast and contributed wine to it, says a lot about both our Lord’s humanity and His loving nature.  Too often, I think, people see Jesus as an almost other-worldly apparition, rather than a real person, when in fact He was very much a man such as we all are – without sin, of course – but otherwise participating in the life we all enjoy.  One of the greatest heresies of the early centuries of Christianity, as well as our own time, is that which suggests that Jesus only seemed to be a man but really wasn’t, and that He existed so far above the rest of humanity that He rejected the simple pleasures of mankind, such as food and drink.  What a humorless and sterile savior that would be, surely not one capable of the love and compassion evident in Jesus’ life!  The story of the Wedding at Cana shows us another kind of savior, one who enjoyed life and took part in it, all the while being quite aware of His mission and obedient to whom He was and to the task He was sent to do.

          There is little doubt that the very thing that endeared our Lord to the hearts of the poor and downtrodden in His society was the very thing that made it impossible for those of higher station to feel the same.  He didn’t act very much like a king, didn’t take on an air of superiority and seemed no more than a simple country rabbi.  Yet, He taught with authority: “And when he was come into his own country, he taught them in their synagogue, insomuch that they were astonished, and said, whence hath this man this wisdom and these mighty works? Is not this the carpenter’s son? Is not his mother called Mary? and his brethren, James, and Joses, and Simon, and Judas? And his sisters, are they not all with us? Whence then hath this man all these things.” (Matt. 13: 54-56)  Such a common man, this man of the people, couldn’t be the Messiah, they thought: but He was – and is.

          Human beings tend at times to live in a world of fantasy: We dream of things that aren’t, but we wish were.  In my own fantasy I have a luxuriant head of hair, and a body somewhere between Super Man and Brad Pitt: I am witty and charming, and oh so very smart.  I know that my fantasy isn’t true, or at least that most of it isn’t; but it pleases me, and I do it.  And as far as I can tell, there isn’t anything wrong with it.  But when we do that in matters of religion, changing facts into fantasy, we run the great risk of losing sight of what is real and what is not.  At some point, fantasy can become faith, and we lose touch with the reality of God.  Such a fantasy faith is able to conjure up all sorts of fantastic imaginings, and call them holy and inspired.  But in truth, they have nothing of truth or of God in them.

          We cannot add to, or subtract from, a single thing of the truth of God, as revealed to us in Jesus Christ.  God sent “the only begotten Son” to live among us for a time, as one of us.  He was a real person, not an apparition or some kind of “heavenly hologram.”  And, until His crucifixion at an early age, He lived His life much the same as we all do, with the added burden of taking our sins upon Him, and bringing the light of God into our hearts and minds.  He lives still, of course, as God has no beginning and no ending; and He is present with us in His Holy Spirit today, as we celebrate the Eucharist, and present too with us every day, in everything we do.

          There is nothing greater we can do than to worship God as He has been revealed to us, and as He is, and to bring others to do the same.  Let us celebrate the life of the “carpenter’s son from Nazareth” today, then, and let us remember the sacrifice He made for us at the cost of His own very real human life.  His love for us was so great, and His compassion was so strong for us, that He came among us to die for our sins, that we might be saved from all our fantasies, and come at last to dwell with Him among the Saints in Light.