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Sermon

Growing a Fig By Your Own Bootstraps

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Luke 13:1-9

We have all been part of the conversation. Sitting on those plastic chairs bolted to the floor at Tim Hortons. Did you hear who is sick? Did you know who lost their job? Have you heard that they are splitting up? Did you know that they have a drinking problem? Community news like this travels fast because we need something to talk about over coffee, and what better to talk about than the misfortunes of others… the struggles and trials of others. We spread the news as a way or caring, or so we think. But along with the news comes judgement. Along with the news, comes interpretation and explanation. Well, maybe they got sick because they didn’t care for themselves. They lost their job because they were uncommitted. They are splitting up because they didn’t work at it. They have that addiction problem because they just can’t get their life together.

Jesus sounds like he is sitting in a Tim Hortons today having coffee talk. Luke doesn’t tell us who, but some people are telling Jesus about the group of Galilean pilgrims who were arbitrarily murdered by Pontius Pilate’s soldiers in a show of force. And then their blood was mixed with the blood of sacrifices… making these poor people unclean in the eyes of the law, even in death. What sin did they commit to earn this kind of fate, some wonder to Jesus.

This group of some people shows us just what the culture of the time thought about the good things and bad things that happened to people. As it is so easy to do, the group of some believed that an individual was to blame for any calamity, any curse, any tragedy that befell them. They must have done something to deserve what they got. Likewise, an individual was to be lauded for any blessing, any good fortune or any good thing that befell them. Clearly they did something to earn their rewards. It is classic pull yourself up by your bootstraps thinking.

And Jesus doesn’t like it one bit. 

And we get what Jesus is talking about. It seems harsh and uncaring to blame the victim. The Galileans were simple pilgrims… why blame them for what the Roman Governor ordered? We know that this is not a compassionate way to see this kind of violence.

And Jesus gives another example. A tragedy that lived deep in the memories of the people of Jerusalem, like a plane crash or terrorist attack. The tower of Siloam, a good building project ended up collapsing on 18 workers. It would’t make sense to blame the victims for such a thing.

We get what Jesus is railing against. Blaming victims of tragedy is cruel way to see the world… even if it can make some surface level sense of complex and difficult situations.

And yet, yet… our world is full of the same kind of thinking. We might not apply the logic the same way, but our world believes that an individual is mostly responsible for the good things or things that happen to them. In our coffee talk, we can be quick to blame someone for their misfortunes or to applaud someone for their luck.

And a part of us, the old sinner part of us, likes the idea. We like the idea that we are in control of our destiny. We like the idea that our lives our dictated solely by the strength of our actions. Whether is good or bad, we like the idea that we are responsible for what happens to us. We hate the idea that there are forces in the world beyond our control, forces bringing us fortune or misfortune completely outside of anything we have done. We would rather be in control, even if our control leads to tragedy and curse. We would rather tragically be God in God’s place, than admit that there might be forces beyond our control.

Like the ideas of the group of some gathered around Jesus, our ideas about our own power to control our lives doesn’t sit well with Jesus either.

As Jesus hears about the murdered he Galileans, instead of sympathetically nodding along and wringing his hands, he jumps down the throats of the messengers.

He challenges the ideas of the this group of some. He warns them. If you don’t repent of this thinking, you too might perish like the Galileans. If you don’t repent you might find yourself under a collapsing tower too.

Repent or die, Jesus seems to be saying.

Or, wait, that’s not what Jesus means. 

Jesus isn’t reinforcing the idea that we are in control, that we are the masters and commanders of our own fate. Jesus trying to challenge that idea. Repent or die isn’t the message.

Instead, Jesus has a parable for this group of some. Jesus has a parable for coffee talk at Tim Horton’s.

barrenfigtreeA landowner goes out to his vineyard. To his vineyard where he has inexplicably planted a fig tree which would have too big a root system, take too much ground water, produce too much shade for grape eating birds. And this landowner is annoyed that this fig tree doesn’t produce fruit. And with classic group of some thinking, coffee talk at Tim Horton’s thinking, he condemns the tree for its failure. The tree hasn’t seized upon its fate. It hasn’t pulled itself up by its boot straps. It is a poor, scraggly, unfruitful tree deserving of what it gets. In fact, it isn’t really the land owner condemning the tree, the tree is condemning itself.

But wait, says the Gardener.

Wait, there is more to this story.

Give it another year. Give the tree a second chance. The tree is not an individual living in isolation. The Gardener sees the big picture. The Gardener sees that the tree is not solely a product of its own power to control its own fate. The Gardener knows that the soil, the weather, the pruning, the fertilizer… the circumstances that surround the tree have as much to do with its fruit bearing ability as the tree itself.

The judgement of the landowner is all about power, the power of the tree to bear fruit. But the Gardener sees the big picture and the big picture is about love. Love sees that fruit is born not just by the tree, but by the soil, by the fertilizer, by the gardener. Love sees that fruit is born in community.

The gardener offers another year, the gardener offers grace. Instead of judging whether the tree produces by its own power, the gardener wants to see now if the tree will produce by grace. The grace of love and care, the grace of tending to the big picture.

Jesus the gardener knows that it is the same with us. That we cannot blame the victim for tragedy. The good and the bad things, the curses and the rewards, the tragedy and blessings of life do not happen solely by our own power. Instead, love bears the ups and down of life. And the curses and rewards are born by the community. The blessings and tragedy are carried by the same community that gathers around coffee to talk.

Jesus the gardener says, one more year. One more year, one more chance, one more offer of grace because none of us is solely responsible for the good and bad in our lives. Rather we bear these things together, and we bear these things with God.

This is the grace of seeing the big picture. This is the love of gardening Jesus, the love of a gardening God.

Our logic of power would blame the victim for the tragedies we endure. We would hold the individual accountable for the good and bad. But love that sees the big picture offers grace and mercy, the loving gardening God says one more year.

God the gardener says, let me care for you, let me tend to your roots, nourish your soil and help you grow fruit. Don’t worry about producing fruit on your own power, but together we will grow because of love.

This Lenten season, we have seen again and again how in the relationship between love and power, God comes to meet us. And today, despite our coffee talk that says its our power that matters, it is our power that controls our fate, that rewards us or curses us… God steps back to see the big picture. God steps back to shown us that our power is not in control. But rather, love is at work in our lives. God the Gardener says, one more year, because of love the fruit will grow.

How’s that for Tim Horton’s coffee talk.

Amen

Sermon, Theology & Culture

How Churches Confuse the Method for the Mission

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Who remembers Kodak? Who remembers taking photos with Kodak film? Does anyone know what happened to the Kodak company in 2012? Who still takes photos with film cameras?

In a recent blog post, Pastor and Blogger Carey Nieuwhof compares Kodak and the church. He suggests that Kodak made a fundamental mistake in understanding their company’s mission.

“In many ways,” He writes, “Kodak sabotaged its future by refusing to respond to the massive changes in culture. 

Kodak bet too much of its future on the past (film photography). It lost.”

He goes on:

“Imagine what might have happened if someone at Kodak had asked:

Are we in the film business, or the photography business?

If Kodak was in the film business, the future would be dim.

But if Kodak had decided it was in the photography business, the future could have been very different.

Instead, Facebook decided it was in the photography business when it bought Instagram. And Apple decided it was in the photography business when it developed the iPhone.”

“Too many leaders mix up method and mission. That’s one of the things that happened to Kodak [and that’s happening in journalism].

It’s also an epidemic in the church world.

This mistake is so easy to make in leadership.

A method is a current approach that helps you accomplish the mission. It’s how you do what you do.

The mission is why you exist.

The problem in most churches is people (including leaders) get very fond of their methods.”

When Carey Nieuwhof talks about METHODS, what kind of things do you think he is talking about in the church? – PAUSE –

I suspect that there are a lot of examples he is thinking about, here are a few:

1. When I was is my first congregation, I had a member who was adamant that we have a Sunday School program – even though there were no Sunday School aged children attending the church.

The method of Sunday School had become more important than the mission to help people grow in faith.

2. This past week as pastors and other leaders gathered with our Bishop  to talk about worship, Carey Nieuwhof’s article came up in terms of the methods of worship over the mission of worship.

Churches will devout tremendous resources to particular methods of worship: contemporary or traditional, organs or praise bands, music before 1950 and music after, what’s considered to be more formal, or liturgical, verses what is more casual in worship styles – the list goes on.

The method – or preferred style – of worship has become more important than mission of proclaiming the gospel in the worshipping assembly.

3. Or the ultimate example, congregations focussing on attendance and budgets in order to keep their doors open – and failing to see that buildings and budgets are just methods.

The mission is – and has always been – helping others grow in their relationship to Jesus.

Churches, along with Kodak, are not immune from mistaking the method for the mission.

So at this point, you might be wondering what does all this method and mission talk have to do with the temptation of Jesus?

The devil, like Kodak and many congregations, has mistaken Jesus’ methods for Jesus’ mission. As the devil happens along Jesus wandering and fasting in the wilderness, he forgets what he has likely just heard and witnessed as Jesus was baptized and what we heard repeated again on Transfiguration Sunday. The devil has forgotten that the Father has just declared Jesus the Son, the devil has forgotten that the Father and Son are one God.

And having forgotten that, the devil tries to tempt Jesus with power and its misuse. The devil mistakes God’s mission to be one of power. The devil sees only the method of the incarnation – God becoming flesh. And the only purpose for God coming into the world that the devil can imagine is power.

Turn rocks into bread the devil urges – show God-like power over creation.

The devil tries again and offers that Jesus could rule over nations and peoples – show God-like power over humanity.

And the most desperate temptation, the devil dares Jesus to jump from the pinnacle of the temple – as if forcing God to act and save Jesus shows God-like power.

With each successive temptation, the devil is trying to get Jesus to use his power, the power of an incarnate God. And the devil gets more desperate with each offer, trying to get Jesus to do something with all that power. The devil has mistaken the method – God coming to creation in flesh – for the mission.

The mission that Jesus reminds the devil, that Jesus reminds us of, each time he responds:

One does not live by bread alone… but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.

Worship the Lord your God and serve only Him.

Do not put the Lord your God to test.

These are not the responses of a noble pious man resisting temptation in front of the devil. Jesus isn’t reciting bible verses for his own benefit.  We cannot split apart the trinity, split apart Father and Son when it feels convenient. When Jesus speaks, it is God speaking.

One does not live by bread alone, Jesus says, for it is I who gives you life.

Worship the Lord your God, Jesus says, for it is I who will gives you a place in this world.

Do not put the Lord your God to the test, Jesus says, for I have not come to show my power, but to show my love for all creation.

The method, God becoming flesh, is only to serve the mission.

And the mission is God’s deep and abiding love for the world. For each and everyone of us. 

And it is not just the devil who needs this reminder. We need it too. As individuals, and as communities. We need to be reminded that we exist in service of God’s mission. That all the things we do are in service of God’s mission. Whether it is Sunday School, or bible study or individual study and prayer, we serve God’s mission of growing in faith. Whether it is with organs or rock bands, old hymns or new songs, formal reverent liturgies or casual intimate gatherings we serve the mission of announcing God’s love.  Whether it is with grand buildings and large staffs, or rented space and volunteers, we serve God’s mission by being the places where forgiveness and mercy are offered. Where sinners are washed with Holy Baths. Where the hungry are fed with bread and wine. Where the dying are given words that breathe into us new, and eternal, life.

God’s mission is front and center today on this first Sunday in Lent, as Jesus refocuses us back to the heart of the issue.  And it’s no mistake that the story of the temptation of Jesus is always told on the first Sunday of Lent. It focuses us on the heart of the issue between God and us. And from now until Easter we are headed towards the core of the conflict, between method and mission, a conflict between power and love. Our desire for power, and God’s desire for love.

And as the devil tries to tempt Jesus, he doesn’t know where Jesus is headed. But we know how the conflict ends. We know the end of the story. Humanity’s desire for power leads to death on a cross on Good Friday. God’s desire for love leads to life and an empty tomb.

And the same story plays out here among us. Our desire might be to control the methods, to make how we do church the most important, but God’s desire is for the mission, to make the “why” the most important. Lest we forget that the mission comes before the method, God has a habit of stripping us of our methods. This Lent, God is calling us to look at whether our focus is on the methods we use, or on God’s mission for the church and us. God is leading us into the wilderness, calling us to leave our attachment to our favourite methods behind, challenging our assumptions  about power and then God is reminding of us what is most important.

Like Kodak who thought they were a film company rather than a photography company, the church too has a habit of mixing up the method for mission.

But unlike Kodak, God does not let us stay mixed up for long. Instead, God comes into our world and reminds us that isn’t about methods, not about the programs we have nor music or worship styles, nor buildings nor budgets.

The mission is God’s love. Everything else comes second. 

(*Thanks to my wife, Courtenay, for co-writing this sermon with me)

Sermon, Theology & Culture

On Ash Wednesday, we confess our sins of Mardi Gras.

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Last night parades marched down streets all over the world. Dancers in elaborate costumes danced. Partiers around the globe partied. Musicians played beats and sounds that kept party going. The crowds took in Mardi Gras or Carnival. Maybe some of us ate pancakes and maple syrup. Maybe we cut off or shrived the fat of ham and sausages for Shrove Tuesday.

Tuesday was the last day of normal. They last day of full flavoured enjoyment. The day to use up the fat and the sugar in the house. It was almost like the day to finish the Christmas baking, to leave the last of the holidays behind.

Because today the fasting begins. Today we begin towards a different part of the story. The wondrous births, the visits from foreign kings, the dramatic baptisms, the mountain top wonders are done.

Today, we descend into the valley of Ashes. Today we hear the words:

Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.

When God reached down into the dirt of creation, when God grabbed the dirt in God’s hands, felt the dust and clay between God’s fingers, do you supposed God knew that the Adam, the first human of creation, the dirtling, was what would be made. Or did it take a while for Adam to take shape? Did God need to work the dirt before Adam appeared?

Adam was created from dust and ash, from dirt. He was formed and moulded with God’s very hands, and Eve too was formed in the dirt, for she was split from Adam.

Did God know then, as God worked the dirt into torso and arms and legs that Adam and Eve would eat the fruit? Did God know as hands and feet were formed, as finger nails and hair, eyes and teeth took shape that the human beings would choose power and temptation? Did God know as God breathed breath into their lungs and brought them to life that the Adam and the Eve, the dirt creatures would choose the fat, the wild abandon, the risk of death? Did God know that they would choose Mardi Gras without knowing it would lead them to Ash Wednesday?

Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return. 

On Ash Wednesday, we confess. We confess our sins of Mardi Gras. We confess our original sin. We confess that we choose ourselves, our own pleasure, our own comfort, our own security, our own fears, our own neurosis ahead of others. We confess that we cannot see beyond ourselves, we cannot escape our selfishness, we cannot stop getting in our own way.

Today, we confess our sins and we mark ourselves with Ash.

Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. 

Today, we cannot escape that the consequences of our choices mean death. Adam and Eve ate the fruit and they died. Abraham and Sarah laughed at God and they died. Moses lashed out in rage, and he died. King David lusted for Bathsheba and he died. Peter denied Christ and he too was crucified. Paul murdered Christians and he rotted in prison.

Their choices meant death.

And our choices mean death.

We let the weak and vulnerable fend for themselves. We make our world sick for the sake of stuff. We allow a few to hoard much and call greed “good business”. We call for war because we are more afraid of people on the other side of the earth than we are of the injustices and tragedies that are killing us here.

We keep choosing the fruit. The fat. Mardi Gras.

As if we forget that our choices lead to Ashes.

And so today, God says

Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

But God doesn’t leave us in the dust. God doesn’t let our Mardi Gras choice be the end of us.

On Ash Wednesday God reminds who we are, but also who God is.

God says Remember that you are dust because I became dust with you.

To dust you shall return because I returned from the dust as well.

Remember that you are my dust and I am your dust.

Remember that I became dust on the cross, and returned from the dust as I walked from the empty tomb.

Remember that I returned your fruit. I returned your fat. I turned Mardi Gras into Ash Wednesday. And Ash Wednesday into Good Friday. And Good Friday into the 3rd day, the First Day of the Week.

Today, the choices of yesterday, our Mardi Gras choices, our choices of self before others, our choices of now before the future, our choice of consumption and destruction over conservation and reconciliation. Our choices lead us to ashes and to death.

Remember, that you are dust and to dust you shall return, says the Lord.

But remember also, says the Lord, that I am the one who formed you from the dust and dirt. I am the one who held you in my hands, who first loved you. I am the one who breathed life into you.

I did it once, says the Lord… and I will do it again.

Amen. 

Sermon, Theology & Culture

Afflicting the Comfortable Nazareth Synagogue

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Luke 4:21-30

And he said, “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown. But the truth is, there were many widows in Israel in the time of Elijah, when the heaven was shut up three years and six months, and there was a severe famine over all the land; yet Elijah was sent to none of them except to a widow at Zarephath in Sidon. There were also many lepers in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed except Naaman the Syrian.” (Read the whole lesson)

Sermon

We are challenged today, our comfort is afflicted. Good News is meant to comfort the afflicted, but today the comfortable are challenged to change… and this is Good News. It is hard to hear, it unsettling and even rises up our anger, but it is still Good News. As we work and strive to find our place in the world, as well as our place in the pews here… all that is overturned right in front of our eyes.

For us it was last week, but for Jesus and the people of the Nazareth Synagogue, it was only moments ago that he stood before them and boldly proclaimed that the Spirit of God had anointed Jesus to preach good news to the poor, release to the captives, sight to the blind, freedom to the oppressed and forgiveness of debts in the Jubilee year. And then Jesus sat down and preached that “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing”. And today, we get to see and hear the response he gets – and its not nice.

After hearing Jesus’ nice sermon, the people are amazed, they are comforted in the midst of their cushy seats in the Nazareth synagogue. They marvel that here, Joseph the carpenter’s son has such beautiful words. They imagine beautiful scenes of their lives being eased, of the burdens laid down and their bumps and bruises soothed. But this is NOT the sermon that Jesus is preaching… he has not come back to his home town to sooth his friends and family. Jesus has come to preach about real suffering, about real change and about real people.

(Pause)

Grace was working her job waitressing job, about to take payment from a customer. The woman was frantically digging through her purse trying to find her wallet and money. Her child was tugging on her sleeve begging to leave. Grace gestured to the side and asked her if she wanted to take a minute while others paid, but the woman didn’t seem to understand and only got more agitated. The scarf that covered nearly all of the woman’s head but her face was beginning to come loose as she looked for something to pay her bill with. The woman looked up at Grace and started explaining, but doesn’t realize she was speaking Arabic.

Behind the woman, Grace could hear other customers complaining,

“These immigrants expect a free handout when they come here”

“Why does she wear that thing on her head? Nobody in this country cares if you see a woman’s head!”

“You should have to learn English to be allowed into Canada!”.

(Pause)

Jesus comes down on the people of the Nazareth Synagogue and he comes down hard. He has come to preach the good news to them also, but they cannot see past the energetic 10 year old running around town playing with the other boys and helping out with his father’s carpentry. They cannot see that Jesus is not Joseph’s son at all. And this is why Jesus comes down hard, Jesus is confronting their complacency, confronting their understanding of the world, and using strong and bold words to do it.

God provides food for Elijah and the widow. God heals Naaman in the Jordan river from his leprosy, just as Elisha said would happen. Jesus reminds the people of their own history, of the prophets who had already come to bring good news and Jesus reminds them of a condemning fact… Elijah was sent to a gentile woman, to a pagan widow and her son. Elisha healed a Syrian with leprosy, a solider and a conqueror. Jesus reminds the comfortable folks of Nazareth that God send prophets to heal outcasts and sinners, gentiles and the unclean… the Messiah is not just coming to make the lives of the righteous and chosen people easier.

Jesus would get us jumping out of our seats too if he were preaching here today. He would remind us that his own body and blood, that the bread and wine we share today, is not just to feed 5th generation prairie German, Icelandic or Norwegian Lutherans, but that Christ has come to feed the poor, the outcast, children, the old, the mentally ill and the sick. He would tell us that healing and reconciliation is also for immigrants, Muslims, Jews, Hindus, women, visible minorities.

But when Jesus afflicts the comfortable he doesn’t go halfway. Jesus challenges the people of the Nazareth and challenges us to see where, in our hearing, God is at work. Jesus is saying that God’s work happens with more kinds of people than imagine, AND also happens with us, amongst us, through us. Jesus demands our participation in God’s work. Jesus dares us see how we fit into the work of God right her and now. This pokes us in our comfort zone and makes defensive. We are the ones already here, what more does God want from us? But for Jesus being here is only the first step. Jesus sees the gospel working through us for the poor, the blind, the imprisoned, oppressed and indebted.

But this is not what the people of Nazareth came to hear, Jesus is challenging their comfort and they get enraged and they decide to hurl Jesus off a cliff. But he escapes. Yet, the rage of the people will catch up with him. From today onward, Good Friday is in our horizon as Jesus barely escapes execution by a mob. The rage of the Nazarites is the same rage that will shout “crucify him”, the same rage that will nail his wrists and feet to a cross. But that time is not yet. Resurrection is still coming and the people of Nazareth haven’t seen the fulfillment of God’s promises yet…God’s promises that include more than Ancient Hebrews and Prairie Lutherans. God’s promises that transform us, and we become less comfortable the more we hear them.

But the rage of righteous entitlement, the rage that believes it deserves God’s love and that is willing to put God to death for changing the rules… Today, this rage loses its power, and God’s power to free, to release, to heal, to feed, and to forgive steps out of the shadows and stands in our midst, it defies our attitudes, escapes being hurled into oblivion and continues on with its mission.

(Pause)

As the poor woman standing at the counter, realized that she had forgotten her wallet, the tears began streaming down her face. Voices behind continued to mutter and complain. And then all of a sudden two 20 dollar bills appeared on the counter, and a smiling face was standing next to her. Grace recognized Marlena from church at St.David’s

“Here take this, and pay for your meal.” Marlena said. “You don’t know me, but I have seen your family walking down the street, you are my neighbour”.

With tears still streaming down her cheeks, the grateful muslim woman reached out and took the hand of this kind stranger, thanking her profusely in arabic.

(Pause)

Today, the Good News hurts us, as we see ourselves in the folks of the Nazareth Synagogue. But its still Good News anyways, as we discover again that God’s love is not based in our comfort, in what pew bears the shape of our behind, but rather its based in God’s openness to a world full of imperfect variety. And God’s love is happening right here and now.

Jesus takes two stories of God’s great compassion and uses them in a new way. Jesus reminds the comfortable folks of Nazareth and comfortable Lutherans of the prairies that God’s love is so much broader than we can imagine. Jesus pushes our comfort zones and enrages us. And still despite our attitudes, despite our rage at being challenged, Jesus promises reconciliation and healing, for which we are given front row seats. For today Jesus has proclaimed that along with God’s chosen people, lepers and gentiles, widows and pagans, and immigrants to a foreign land…  we all are the beloved of God. Even if that makes us uncomfortable.

Amen. 

Sermon

They Couldn’t Afford the Wine in Cana

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John 2:1-11

On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” (Read the whole passage)

Sermon

On the 3rd day of the wedding in Cana, they ran out of wine. It might seem strange to be talking about a party running out of wine today. Last week we heard the story of Jesus’ baptism, God spoke to the crowds and us. It was a big deal. And then between Sundays, the dollar and oil continued to drop in value prompting lots of economic talk in the news. And as if to bring the point closer to home, as we prepare for our Annual Meeting next week, economic talks have been taking place here as a budget is prepared and challenges are contended with much like the rest of the country.

This week also brought what has come to be routine terrorist attacks around the world, politicians behaving badly at home and abroad. Daily life has become serious business, stress filled and difficult business. So talking about a miracle where Jesus turns some water into wine at a wedding sounds almost trivial.

Yet, despite being known mostly for its poor party planning, Cana is a place where life is serious, stress filled and difficult too. Cana knows the dangers of the world. They too worry if there will be enough on the table, worry about bills and taxes, work and family. Cana was a small town in the middle of nowhere. They lived under and paid taxes to the Romans, to Herod, to the Temple, to the Synagogue, to the local authorities and soldiers.

And here they were, trying to have a nice celebration for the community. To set a couple off on the right start for their marriage. To celebrate a bit in an otherwise dark, serious, and difficult world.

But on the 3rd day of the wedding they run out of wine.

Mary and Jesus and the disciples are in Cana for a wedding. They are probably at the wedding of a distant relative, but for Cana this would have been a whole community affair. Like weddings today, the weddings of ancient Israel were big celebrations. It was expected that a fortune would be spent on the party. Wine and food was to flow for a week – literally 7 days – the Bridegroom was meant to be broke by the end of the party. The hospitality and celebration, the extravagance were meant to be sign of blessing. If it was a good party, it would be blessed marriage.

Except it is only day 3 in Cana, and they have no wine.

Mary points this out to Jesus in only the way a mother could. And Jesus responds in only the way a son could, “Woman, what concern is that to you and me? My hour has not yet come”. Jesus has different idea of timing than his mother. But, she doesn’t care. She tells the servants, “Do whatever he tells you”.

Jesus seems to only to see a party that has been poorly planned. A party that has run out. But Mary sees something different. Mary knows that the wine has run out on day 3, not even half way through. The wine might run out on a poorly planned part on day 6, but not day 3. The family is probably too poor to throw a proper wedding.

Maybe they didn’t know about wedding socials in Cana. Maybe they didn’t come together as people do here, knowing that if everyone contributes a little to everyone else, when the time comes to host your own, the burden won’t be so great. But the people of Cana almost certainly did know this, and probably had all already chipped in to the party.

And Mary sees that this community is too poor, they don’t even have enough reserves to have one party for some newlyweds.

Mary and Jesus embody the moments of scarcity that we face every day. We know what it is like to need for more, to fear running out, to know that the time isn’t right, to hope for something different and to long for change. We know this feeling and how it weighs on us at home, at work, at the grocery store, at school, at church, on the road, in the world. But this is just how our world operates, these are the reasons we toil away, the reasons that keep us up at night and stress us out. We know that we are closer to running out than we like to admit. Running out of time, of energy, of money, of love, of life.

Running out is something we all fret about, and yet it is connected to a much deeper fear. At the core of our being, within all of us is that fearful sense that if there is not enough for us, that if we run out, that we will suffer, we will lose, we will be alone, we will die. We fear not having enough so much that it can make us crazy. It is the fear of running out that makes fight with each other, that makes stubborn and unable to see the needs of those people around us, that makes us hold on with all our might, even when holding on is what is killing us.

So when Mary pushes Jesus to act, even though he resists… it is because she must see that it isn’t really about the wine or the party ending 4 days early. It is about a community without much else to hold on to, a people without hope. If there is not enough wine, than there is not enough to eat or drink. There isn’t enough to live on. The world will have overcome them. There is no future, no hope, only death.

Mary sees this deep connection between running out of wine, and how Cana is not that far away from death. She sees a community that needs some hope, that needs a future. And she knowns the only person who can truly provide.

And so Mary presses the issue, not with Jesus, but with us.

“Do whatever he tells you.”

Easy instructions for the servants… but words that should take our breath away.

As we face our economic news, as we face challenges and struggles making ends meet and just keeping it together day to day. As we wonder if there is any hope for us, if there is a future here… if all we have to look forward to is death. “Do whatever Jesus tells you.” is a word that demands faith from us. Faith that we really don’t know how to give.

But God does.

Even when it doesn’t seem like Jesus’ hour, it is. And it isn’t just an abundance of wine that Jesus provides. Instead, God breaks into the world. God comes to a small community that is forgotten by everyone else. And God blesses the wedding, blesses the whole community.

It is not about the wine. It is about the blessing. About God’s presence there in that moment. Mary seemed to know that with God present at that wedding in Cana, running out of wine was something Jesus needed to do something about.

And all of a sudden on the 3rd day of the wedding, when hope was lost, when there was no future… God breaks into the world and provided wine. God meet that community and gives them hope. God creates a new future.

Today, God breaks into our world here and now. God provides us with hope. God creates us a future.

And it is no mistake that the wine ran out on the 3rd of wedding at Cana. It is no mistake that we meet on Sunday, the 3rd day too. We are meant to be reminded of that other 3rd day miracle when life seemed to have run out of world, God turned it into delicious abundant life. When all hope was lost, God found us at the empty tomb. When we didn’t seem to have a future, God gave all creation new life in the resurrection.

Here on this 3rd day, here in our world, here in our community, it might feel like our wine has run out. It might feel like there is no hope and no future. But God is revealing to us the Christ who brings delicious and abundant wine, who fill the jars of our hope, who makes sure that there is future – because Jesus has saved good wine until now, he has saved it for us.

Amen.