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.” And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what concern is that to me and to you? My hour has not yet come.” 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. 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 person in charge of the banquet.” So they took it. When the person in charge tasted the water that had become wine and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), that person 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.” Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee and revealed his glory, and his disciples believed in him.
Dave and I were married in January in Old Town Alexandria. I remember the days leading up to the wedding like they were yesterday… There was so much we couldn’t control, like the chance of a freak blizzard in the DC area or the swirling unpredictability of family and friends to say nothing of what life would do to make us earn those vows. And there so much I fiercely tried to control anyway … seating charts, playlists for the band, the 34-page wedding policy from the Old Presbyterian Meeting House… it was all bundled into a three-ring binder with highlights and sticky notes.
The day of the wedding, I gave the binder over to my most responsible friend, and Dave and I gave ourselves over to each other and to God, making our promises and then being
surrounded by toasts and glasses spilling over in hope. But of course, as with every wedding, there were quiet dramas and tons of little binder-busters that we only heard about later. The overserved guest who nearly knocked over the cake, and how someone started playing “Yeah” by Usher way too early in the night, like while people were still eating their salads.
I wonder, given all the unpredictability, why Jesus would choose a wedding for his first miracle. There’s the symbolism of course: Sacred promises, every form of love in full view, and the cup of abundance and sacrifice. But I think this particular story reminds us that in the midst of all we think is too little and too late, Jesus still moves. Jesus still changes the not-enough it’s- too-late story we keep telling into unexpected goodness. And I love that even when Jesus didn’t think the timing was good, the alchemy of Holy Spirit still happened. Bad timing is no obstacle.
The short-hand of this story: never underestimate the Jesus of it all. I am drinking deeply of that this year.
It’s also important to note that it took more that divine power acting alone to bring about the miracle at Cana. It took human participation. In this story, someone had to push for the miracle, someone had to carry the weight of it, and someone had to taste the miracle when it happened and spread the word.
This weekend, we remember the life of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., a man who knew the
life of faith was no cocktail party. He often faced situations that seemed hopeless, and yet, he believed in a God who could transform hearts, structures, and entire societies. He said, “Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.”
When the wine ran out, it was Mary, the mother of Jesus, who noticed. She recognized a need and acted decisively, going to her son and saying, “They have no wine.” Her words were not a mere observation—they were a nudge, a push for action. Jesus’ initial response seemed hesitant: “My hour has not yet come.” But Mary didn’t back down. She told the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”
Someone had to push for the miracle, and Mary took on the role of prophets and leaders
who speak up when the world needs change. Dr. King was a voice that pushed America—pushed the church, pushed the government, and pushed everyday people—to confront the sin of racism. He did not wait for the “right time.” In fact, he said, “justice delayed is justice denied.” “The time is always right to do what’s right.” And “there is no power greater than an idea whose time has come.” King pushed for the miracle, and like Mary, he called on those around him to trust and do what Jesus said, believing God could do what seemed impossible.
In our lives, who are the ones who notice what needs to change, those who step away from the dance floor of denial and speak up about what is unsustainable? Miracles need Marys
and Martins who are willing to push and trust at the same time. I think of Pastor Vernon Walton whom you all know from our joint Maundy Thursday services. When the homeless encampment in Reston sprawled out of control, he tugged repeatedly on the sleeves of county leaders to act. I think of so many of you who wear t-shirts, send letters, fundraise and organize so that people know we are running out of housing, running out of time to heal the planet, people who tug the stubborn arc of the moral universe so that it still bends toward justice.
Next, notice the role of the servants. When Jesus finally acted, he didn’t wave his hand to create wine out of nothing. Instead, he instructed servants to fill six large stone jars with water. Each jar holds 20 to 30 gallons—a heavy load to carry. Those weren’t just any old water jugs; they were purification jars used in Jewish rituals.
This miracle required obedience and a ton of effort. It required institutional heft and the
tools of faith. These servants didn’t know what would happen, but they trusted and carried the weight. In the civil rights movement, ordinary people carried the weight of justice—marching, organizing, singing, praying, boycotting, and risking their lives. The work of change was and remains heavy. The burdens of racism, poverty, and injustice are still real, and lifting them requires communities willing to follow God’s lead and put in the work.
Last year, I was able to meet Willie Pearl. She was the secretary who transcribed Dr. King’s Letter from the Birmingham Jail. It wasn’t just handed to her in an envelop. It was shocked to learn that it was smuggled out of his cell scrawled on sandwich bags, greasy napkins and newspaper pages, and Willie Pearl pieced it together over many nights so that the message could get out. She shouldered the weight of the miracle.
In our own lives, what weight do we need to carry for the sake of God’s kingdom? Maybe you shoulder admin work to serve those who are struggling. Maybe you drive the FACETS van to dole out the food to the hungry. Whether it’s another Costco run, or late night meeting, or 30 gallons of emails, or bruising your knees in prayer, miracles often require muscle—hands willing to fill jars even when it seems futile. And unwilling to become sour in the process.
Finally, let’s consider the role of the master of the banquet. He didn’t draw the water, and he didn’t know where it had come from. But he tasted the wine and recognized its goodness. He declared, “You have saved the best till now!” And like him, the disciples saw the whole scene and believed. Someone had to notice what God had done and proclaim it.
Throughout his ministry, Dr. King recognized the power of testimony—the importance of
telling the truth about what God was doing in the struggle for justice. He shared stories of
transformation and victory to inspire others to believe that change was possible. Likewise, in our faith communities, we need people who will pay attention to God’s work and share the good news, otherwise people lose hope. When lives are transformed, when prayers are answered, when justice prevails—someone must declare, “Thanks be to God.”
What miracles have you tasted lately? How have you recognized and proclaimed them? God’s best is often before us, but we need eyes to see and voices to proclaim, “You have saved the best for now!'”
I’ll embarrass her but I can’t help but think of Marie Grassman. She has survived not one but two fires. She has skirted the cliff’s edge of many catastrophes and come out with a colorful hat and a hug for every person who comes through these doors. Most of you know this but her ministry along with Anne Marlow is hosting a tea party for people who have tasted more than their fair share of tears and deserve a cup of joy in their lives. For the bereaved person or the person who lost their job or the person whose marriage vows were broken, she raises a cup and saves the best scones for last. Her faith is a special varietal, oaky with what she’s been through and buttery with contagious joy.
So, friends, we push for the miracles. We shoulder the weight and celebrate. But the Good News of our faith is that regardless of all we can’t control, all the binders of what we think should be happening, what is most important is that we are bound forever to a loving God who keeps promises. The wine of grace of Christ is poured out and even when this life is over, the best is yet to come. Amen.