When I left school, I applied for, and got, a job in the lift industry. In one sense I was fortunate to get that job because, at the time, the company concerned had a policy of prioritising job applications from the children of people whom they already employed. Having said that, I wasn’t the only son of a current employee of the company who applied for the job, so my success in getting the job wasn’t simply a case nepotism.

So the fact that my dad worked for the company I’d applied for a job with certainly helped me to get the job. And it certainly helped when I finished my apprenticeship and had to go out on breakdowns myself, to have a dad whom I could ask for advice and help with technical problems. But, as time went by, the fact that my dad did, and then later had, worked for the same company became more of a hinderance than a help. By the time I was in my late 20s, and by then my dad had retired; despite the fact that by that time I’d achieved a good reputation as a lift engineer not only on service and repairs, as my dad had before me, but also on installations, which my dad had never worked on, despite the fact that I’d had a promotion in the company’s service/repair department, that I’d achieved their ‘Gold Standard Award’ for installation work, and  been a Charge Hand on installation sites, to a lot of people I worked with, including the vast majority of the management at the branch office, I was still known as, and usually called, ‘Young Smithy’ and still known to them as ‘Ricky’s Son’. In the end, despite the fact that, on the whole, I enjoyed the job I did, and the company was one of the highest paying in the industry, one of the main reasons I left was that I felt I was never going to get anywhere with a company who, after employing me for 14 years, still saw me primarily as a young kid, and as someone’s son.

I don’t know how many of you have had similar experiences to mine, but any of us who have had that kind of experience will have a very good insight into a problem Jesus had in trying to proclaim the Gospel. It’s the problem we heard about this morning, the problem of making those who know us well, and perhaps especially those who’ve known us as children or young people, from taking us seriously because they find it hard to see us as anything but children and youngsters and who tend to see us less as people in our own right than as someone’s son or daughter.

We know that this is a problem Jesus had in proclaiming the Gospel in his hometown and amongst those who knew him and his family because we read about in the Gospels more than once. This morning we’re told that,

‘…all spoke well of him and marvelled at the gracious words that were coming from his mouth. And they said, “Is not this Joseph’s son?”’

But the Gospel goes on to say that by the time Jesus had finished speaking,

‘…all in the synagogue were filled with wrath.  And they rose up and drove him out of the town and brought him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they could throw him down the cliff.’

In his Gospel, St Matthew tells the same story of Jesus’ rejection at Nazareth, but in a different way. He says,

‘…coming to his hometown he taught them in their synagogue, so that they were astonished, and said, “Where did this man get this wisdom and these mighty works? Is not this the carpenter’s son? Is not his mother called Mary? And are not his brothers James and Joseph and Simon and Judas? And are not all his sisters with us? Where then did this man get all these things?” And they took offence at him.’

And in his Gospel, St John tells of a similar thing that happened at Capernaum:

‘…the Jews grumbled about him, because he said, “I am the bread that came down from heaven.” They said, “Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How does he now say, ‘I have come down from heaven’?”’

The Gospels don’t really leave us in any doubt that one of the reasons some people found it hard to believe in Jesus, is that they knew him and his family. The Gospels don’t put it in these terms, but I think many of these people would have heard Jesus speak and teach and thought, ‘Who does he think he is? We know him, he’s just a carpenters son!’ And the Gospels don’t leave us in any doubt either that this attitude and the lack of faith it caused was a major stumbling block to Jesus’ mission and ministry in his hometown and amongst the people who knew him and his family. And we’re told that Jesus couldn’t do in his hometown and amongst those who knew him, the things he did elsewhere. So it was a problem Jesus wasn’t really able to overcome.

But if it was a problem for Jesus, and one he wasn’t able to overcome, how much more of a problem is it for us to proclaim the Gospel in our hometowns and amongst the people who know us so well? Jesus was sinless and so at least he couldn’t be accused of hypocrisy. But we’re not sinless and we very often are accused of hypocrisy, and most easily by those with and amongst whom we live and who know us and our faults and failings so well. And yet isn’t that exactly what the Church asks us to do? At this very time, the Church is asking us to be a living, witnessing presence in the heart of every community, and what is that other than asking Christians to proclaim the Gospel in the place where they live and to the people who live there and who know them well?

This is nothing new, of course, it’s something the Church has always expected its members to do. The Church has always asked and expected its members to live out in their daily lives the faith they proclaim in church on Sunday. The Church has also expected its members to be open about their faith, to let those they meet during their daily lives know that they’re Christians, rather than to hide it. And that Church has expected its members to do all these things because it’s what Jesus himself said his disciples should do. So how do we do something that Jesus himself found to be such a problem?

Well, in one sense, proclaiming the Gospel isn’t such a hard thing to do because it’s easy to say that we’re Christians and that we come to church. It’s also easy to tell people what Jesus taught, to tell people the kind of lives Jesus said we should live. The only difficult thing about doing that is putting up with the abuse we might get for doing it, whether that’s from the secular atheists, who argue that science has all the answers and religion is for stupid people who don’t understand the science, or from those who simply want to rant about the hypocrisy of the Church, or organised religion generally. (Actually, for the vast majority of people, science itself is a religion because the vast majority don’t understand the science but simply put their trust, their faith, in what scientists tell them. And whilst organised religion may well be hypocritical, that has nothing to do with faith itself. That some people who call themselves Christians, for example, don’t follow the teachings of Jesus doesn’t mean that Jesus’ teaching is wrong, that it isn’t to be trusted or believed in. It just means that the people concerned are not really Christians, or at least, not very good Christians.)

So, if we can put up with that kind of abuse, and better still are able to counter it with arguments of our own, proclaiming the Gospel isn’t hard, at least in general terms. What is hard is proclaiming the Gospel to those who know us well because if they accuse us of hypocrisy, it will probably be because we have been hypocritical, and they know we have because they know us. And there’s really only one way to counter that; don’t be a hypocrite. And if we are being one, stop, and don’t be one anymore.

Whoever we proclaim the Gospel to, there’s no guarantee that they’ll listen to us and even if they do, there’s no guarantee that they’ll take what we say to heart and become Christians themselves. But we shouldn’t feel as though we’ve failed if they don’t because even Jesus couldn’t convince everyone to become his disciple. What we’re called to do is to proclaim the Gospel, to sow the seed as the parable says. Whether the seed takes root or not, whether it produces fruit in the form of a new disciple of Christ depends on many other things apart from the sower. Where we, as sowers of the Word can, and will, have more of an influence on the outcome is when we proclaim the Gospel to those with and amongst whom we live and amongst those who know us best because those people will look at us to see how well we live up to the Gospel we proclaim.

That is a hard thing to do because none of us ever live out the faith we proclaim as well as we should. But perhaps more importantly, we don’t live out our faith as well as we could. If we did live out the Gospel as well as we could, if we lived out the Gospel to the very best of our ability, then we’ll be doing all we could do to be the living witnesses to the Gospel in our own communities the Church is asking us to be. There’s still no guarantee that we’ll make new disciples for Christ because even Jesus couldn’t do that in his hometown and amongst those who knew him. But the Gospels tell us that wasn’t seen as a failure on Jesus’ part but was because of their lack of faith.

We’re called to be like Jesus, not to be better than him, if that were actually possible, so if Jesus couldn’t make new disciples in his hometown and amongst those who knew him, there’s no reason to think we’ll fare any better. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try, as hard as it is, because Jesus tried. And if we can do as he did, we’ll have done all we can, we’ll have done our best and I’m sure the Lord doesn’t ask us to do more than that.

Amen.

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The Propers for the 4th Sunday of Ordinary Time (Epiphany 4) can be viewed here.

Entrance Antiphon

Sing a new song to the Lord!
Sing to the Lord, all the earth.
Truth and beauty surround him, he lives in holiness and glory.

The Collect

Almighty God,
whose Son revealed in signs and miracles the wonder of your saving presence:
renew your people with your heavenly grace,
and in all our weakness,
sustain us by your mighty power;
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,
who is alive and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.
Amen.

The Readings

Missal (St Mark’s)          Nehemiah 8:1-6, 8-10
                                    Psalm: 19:8-10, 15
                                    1 Corinthians 12:12-30
                                    Luke 1:1-4, 4:14-21

RCL (St Gabriel’s)          Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10
                                    Psalm: 19
                                    1 Corinthians 12:12-31
                                    Luke 4:14-21

I’m going to start my sermon this morning with a warning: please be advised that some may find the content offensive. To be specific, I’m going to start my sermon with a joke which some people may not find funny. But if this applies to you, please listen on because there is a very good point to it.

I came across the joke in a cartoon that someone showed me just a couple of days ago and which, just by chance as far as they were concerned, is about our Gospel reading this morning, the Wedding in Cana. The cartoon showed Jesus stood next to a man lying in the street, face down with his head resting in the inner elbow joint of one arm, whilst clinging to Jesus clothes with his other. Jesus says, “No, I’m not going to cure your hangover!” To which the prostrate figure on the ground replies, “But Lord, you’re the one who changed the water into wine!”

Some of you may find that funny, some of you may not, but if we put humour to one side, I think that joke, that cartoon, does tell us something about the strangeness of this Gospel story. St John tells us that this was the first ‘sign’ through which Jesus ‘manifested his glory’. He also says at the end of this story that ‘his disciples believed in him’ which leads us to believe that it was through this rather strange sign that they came to faith. But what is this sign, what’s it all about? It’s a miracle story, but it’s a strange sort of miracle, isn’t it? It’s not a healing such as many other miracles that Jesus performed. It’s not like the stilling of the storm when Jesus saved his disciples from danger. It’s not like Jesus’ miracles of raising people from the dead. It’s not even like the miraculous feeding of thousands of people, because on those occasions, those who were fed were following Jesus and had no food. At the wedding in Cana, the guests had already had plenty to drink, as the wedding steward said,

“Everyone serves the good wine first, and when people have drunk freely, then the poor wine. But you have kept the good wine until now.” 

Some translations suggest that the guests were already drunk when Jesus turned the water into wine, so this sign, this miracle, doesn’t seem to be about helping anyone in need but rather about catering to people’s excesses, to provide the means for people who’d already had enough, and perhaps more than enough to drink, to drink even more. No doubt some of the guests would have been hung over and Jesus had provided the means for them to get in that condition, hence the joke cartoon that I mentioned at the start of my sermon.

So it’s a strange story from that point of view but also because it’s a story that contains what appears to be an argument between Jesus and his mother, Mary. When Mary tells Jesus that the wine has run out, he seems to answer her in a harsh and disrespectful way;

“Woman, what does this have to do with me and you? My hour has not yet come.” 

To which Mary seems to respond by simply ignoring what Jesus has said. 

So this Gospel story of Jesus’ first sign, the changing of water into wine at a wedding feast does seem to be a strange sort of miracle set in a strange story. It’s a story full of symbolism too, about old wine and new wine. But, at a human level, what was going on at that wedding in Cana?

To begin to understand that we have to go back to the beginning of the story where we’re told,

‘On the third day there was a wedding at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus also was invited to the wedding with his disciples.’ 

We notice that Jesus’ mother, Mary, is mentioned before Jesus so it would seem that, of the two, Mary was considered to be the more important guest at the wedding. Some people have suggested that, as she knew the wine had run out, Mary may have perhaps had some kind of official role at the wedding, perhaps as a family member of either the bride or groom. That’s speculation, but as the story begins, we’re left in no doubt that Mary was a more important person at the wedding than her son.

Then, when Mary finds out that there’s no more wine left and tells Jesus, we have this strange discussion between them. Mary tells Jesus the wine’s run out. Jesus responds by calling his mother, ‘Woman’ and asking her what that’s got to do with him, or her. His hour, the time for him to reveal his true identity, hasn’t come yet. But Mary seems to completely ignore Jesus’ words and in response to them, she simply tells the servants at the feast to,

“Do whatever he tells you.” 

Sometimes Mary’s response is taken to mean that, in ignoring his words, she forced Jesus’ hand by putting him in a situation in which he had to do something. He had to act and reveal, at least something of his glory. For that reason, Mary is sometimes credited as being the catalyst for Jesus’ ministry. But there is another way to look at this conversation between Mary and Jesus which turns that idea on its head.

In many of the miracle stories we read in the Gospels, when people come to Jesus for help, his immediate response is to take a step back. He seems to want to put some distance between himself and the one who’s asked him for help. And there’s a delay before Jesus acts. If we think about the story of the Raising of Lazarus, for example, Jesus is told that Lazarus is ill, and he’s asked to go quickly to Lazarus’ aid. But Jesus waits; he waits for 2 days; until Lazarus has died, before he even sets off for Lazarus’ home in Bethany. And in the story of Bartimaeus, the blind beggar who asked Jesus to restore his sight, Jesus’ initial response was to ask Bartimaeus,

“What do you want me to do for you?” 

Which is very similar to his response to Mary at the wedding feast isn’t it? We could very easily rephrase Jesus’ words on that occasion, “What is that to me and you?” as “What do you want me to do for you?”

And Jesus response to his mother isn’t so harsh and abrupt as it seems. Calling her ‘Woman’ is simply a way of putting a distance between himself and her request. Mary was Jesus’ mother but in coming to him with a request to do something about wine having run out, was Mary coming to Jesus as her son, or as God’s? And if it was as God’s Son, there could be no favouritism shown to Mary; her request would have to be treated like anyone else’s request for Jesus to use his divine power. And as we know from the Gospels, Jesus never acted, never performed any miracles without a confession of faith from the one making the request.

If we put all these things together, we can interpret this miracle at the Wedding in Cana as story about faith, and discipleship. Jesus’ response to Mary,

 “Woman, what does this have to do with me and you?

can be seen as Jesus putting a distance between himself and his mother until she has clarified their relationship in faith; her own faith in him. Mary may very well have been his mother but on this occasion, she was making a request of him to act as God’s Son, to use his divine power and so Mary had to make a confession of faith in Jesus as God’s Son. And she did. Far from ignoring Jesus’ response and forcing his hand, Mary’s instruction to the servants to do whatever Jesus told them to, was the answer to his question. It was Mary’s confession of faith that she not only believed Jesus could provide more wine but that he would. And her instruction to the servants was also a proclamation of her faith in Jesus to them, and an exhortation that they should have faith too and show it by doing whatever he told them to do.

We also find in this story an image of the right relationship between a disciple and their master. Later in John’s Gospel, Jesus tells his disciples that

 “A servant is not greater than his master.”

The story of the Wedding in Cana begins with an identification of Mary as a more important guest than Jesus but, by the time Jesus tells the servants to fill the jars with water, those roles have been reversed. In her confession of faith and instruction to the servants, Mary submits to the authority of her son who, although he is her son is also God’s Son and her Lord and Saviour. Just like John the Baptist before her, Mary who had such a great part to play in the story of our Salvation prior to Jesus’ earthly ministry, has to become a lesser figure as Jesus’ ministry begins and he becomes greater.

And these are all things that we need to do in our lives as disciples of Christ today. We need to have faith that Jesus not only can but will act in our lives. But we need to remember that, during his earthly ministry, Jesus distanced himself from requests for help until those who asked for his help had confessed their faith. So we need to confess our faith today, to proclaim it openly and not hide it for fear of what the world may say. We need to encourage others to have faith too, to encourage them to do whatever Jesus told us to do and one of the best ways to do that is to make sure that we do whatever Jesus told us to do. And we need to get our relationship with Jesus right. We need to remember that we are the disciples, the servants, and he is the Master, and to show it by thinking less of ourselves than we do of him, to make sure that we do whatever he told us to do rather than doing what we want to do and yet still calling ourselves his disciples. In other words we need to submit to his authority and not vice versa.

If we can do these things, then Jesus can and will act in our lives today. He may act in ways we expect, perhaps by opening our minds and hearts to understand the Scriptures as we read them. But he may also act in ways we don’t expect, in ways we might find very strange. Changing water into wine at a wedding feast, giving people who’d already had enough wine, even more, does seem a strange way for Jesus to bring people to faith, but is it really? I was persuaded to return to the Church through my friendship with the parish curate, so we could say that the catalyst of my coming to faith was meeting him. And where did we meet? In a pub where we chatted together over a few pints of beer. So perhaps, bringing people to faith by changing water into wine isn’t so strange after all.

Amen.

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The Propers for the 2nd Sunday of Ordinary Time (Epiphany 2) can be viewed here.