St. Thomas Evangelical Lutheran Church
3800 East Third Street
Bloomington, Indiana 47401
(812) 332-5252
Sermon for the Second Sunday after the Epiphany (January 14, 2007)
Liturgical Color: Green
Reverend Doctor Lyle E. McKee
"The Old and the New"
Grace to you and peace from our loving God, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
Bear with me here. I'd like to do a little bible study with you this morning. I've broken the reading into several parts to help you see what's happening:
On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there.
Perhaps you remember hearing the phrase "On the third day" before. These, of course, are the words which introduce the story of the resurrection: "He said, 'The Son of man is destined to suffer grievously, to be rejected by the elders and chief priests and scribes and to be put to death, and to be raised up on the third day." (Luke 9:22) We have here, at the very beginning of Jesus' ministry, a subtle allusion to Easter.
The story continues:
Jesus and his disciples had also been invited. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, "They have no wine." And Jesus said to her, "Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come."
Jesus' hour has not yet come-no doubt the hour already mentioned in the first phrase of the story. Only after Jesus' death, resurrection and return to the Father do the greater possibilities become reality. For then the Spirit is given, the mission expands, the community meet to celebrate the new reality in the meal of Jesus' body and blood. So, after Easter, anticipated here, the full feast of abundant wine is celebrated. That "hour" has not yet arrived, but it is again anticipated here.
Then:
His mother said to the servants, "Do whatever he tells you." Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons.
Six stone jars are standing there, for use in rites of purification—hand washing and such. And they are transformed into vats of wine. Minds sensitive to numbers and their symbolism would have noted the number six, falling short of the perfect, seven. The imperfect, then—both in number and use, is transformed into the perfect. The old is replaced by the new.
Jesus said to them, "Fill the jars with water." And they filled them up to the brim. He said to them, "Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward." So they took it. When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom 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."
Wine was very important in those days. It was the normal beverage at meals—and especially at festivals. Wine was a symbol of joy. One ancient rabbi said, "Without wine there is no joy."
In the Old Testament, an abundance of good wine is a sign of the joyous arrival of God's new age. Isaiah writes: "On this mountain the LORD of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, (25:6a).
The six stone water jars, each holding 20-30 gallons, equals 120-180 gallons of wine! That's a lot of wine. I have already noted that an abundance of wine was an Old Testament symbol. The abundance of God's grace is a theme that can flow out of these huge jars.
Something I hadn't noticed before is the significance of the jars being empty. The servants have to fill them with water before the miracle occurs. So, Jesus isn't transforming the purification water that was in the jars into the wine; but he is transforming new water that has been placed in the old containers. New wine is created in the "old" vessels of the Jewish purification rites, symbolizing that the old forms are given new content.
I might suggest that the "old container" could be our bodies, and that Jesus can transform what is inside the "container"—the sinner becomes a saint, the pagan becomes a child of God, the polluted becomes pure. If I am not mistaken, water in that area in those days was not fit to drink, but wine was. Jesus makes the impure water potable.
This miracle at Cana and the later one of the multiplication of the loaves became for the church symbols of the wine and bread of the Eucharist and the abundance of grace available through the sacrament. At the table too, the old is filled with the new. As we eat and drink, the abundance of God's grace transforms sin into the purity of forgiveness.
Now, seldom do our worship services feel like wedding celebrations—where 180 gallons of wine would be served during a week-long celebration. Still, maybe all this talk about so much wine can encourage us to be more celebrative and joyful in our receiving and sharing of God's grace.
For my purposes this morning, I want you to hear plainly that in this story, what belonged to the past is replaced by a new order of grace. The water of an old rite has become the wine of the new; the old temple is replaced by a new one in the person of Jesus. All that came before is given new meaning; the one sent by the Father is now the way to the Father. Jesus brings new life from the old.
The passage before us ends with these words:
Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.
The primary focus of the story is on Jesus as the One sent by the Father to bring salvation to the world. What shines through is his glory, and the only reaction emphasized is that of his disciples when they believed in him.
E-mail stories can sometimes be useful; I have one that picks up on the theme of the old and new. This one cautions us to be careful with our e-mail addresses:
Consider the case of the Illinois man who left the snow-filled streets of Chicago for a vacation in Florida. His wife was on a business trip and was planning to meet him there the next day. When he reached his hotel, he decided to send his wife a quick e-mail. Unable to find the scrap of paper on which he had written her e-mail address, he did his best to type it in from memory.
Unfortunately, he missed one letter, and his note was directed instead to an elderly preacher's wife, whose husband had passed away only the day before.
When the grieving widow checked her e-mail, she took one look at the monitor, let out a piercing scream, and fell to the floor in a dead faint. At the sound, her family rushed into the room and saw this note on the screen:
Dearest Wife,
Just got checked in.
Everything prepared for your arrival tomorrow.
(Signed,)
Your eternally loving husband.
P.S. Sure is hot down here.
There are times when the way we are seems plenty good enough. Indeed, it is often the case that we would prefer that things stay the way they are. The world floods us with all too much that is new. And this poor widow was overcome with this unexpected-and misdirected-news.
You know, I suspect that is why trying new things is difficult for many people. Perhaps especially in the church, we want things to stay the same. When new worship books come out and new liturgies beckon, stress levels increase. Yes, the words are pretty much the same, but we have to pay close attention to all the new melodies. It's so much easier, for those of us who have been around for a while, just to sing it all from memory.
But, you see, that is exactly the point. Or at least part of the point. When we know everything so well and have done it exactly a certain way for many years, it is all too simple for us merely to say and sing the words by rote memory.
I don't say "by heart" because that, I think, implies that the words still carry meaning-which, of course, they still do for many of us who sing and speak from memory. But we cannot afford to permit the great treasure of our liturgy and the message of salvation that it carries to get lost in affection for a set of tunes or a love of not having to use the book.
Even the creeds have been altered to reflect scholarship and clarity of translation. You may have notices subtle changes that will make confession the Apostles Creed from memory difficult for a while. Still, each such change offers a fresh opportunity to pour new meaning into old texts, much as Jesus brings the new from the old-wine from water jars, the wine of salvation splashing out from waters of purification.
God brings new life out of the old. God is in the business of blessing us beyond our need.
When we are encouraged in the face of worries and difficulties, it is there that we receive God's limitless grace. When we eat and drink the body and blood of Christ, our pain and sorrow are overcome. Our fear is transformed into hope. We are bound again to Christ. We are one with him and with his future.
The wedding at Cana announced a new and universal message emerging from an old and familiar rite. May we find anew the truth of this message today-in our lives, in our communion, and in our liturgy. God's rich and abundant grace is new daily and filled with cause for celebration. Amen.
May the peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep our hearts and minds through faith in Christ Jesus our Lord, unto eternal life. — Amen
