WHAT’S IN A FIRKIN?
A sermon preached by
Rev. Dr. Randle R. (Rick) Mixon
First Baptist Church, Palo Alto, CA
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Text: John 2:1-11
When Ruth Owen read this passage in Bible Study last Tuesday, she read from the King James Version. In that version, verse 6 reads, “And there were set there six water pots of stone, after the manner of the purifying of the Jews, containing two or three firkins apiece.” I’m sure I have heard that term read in that version before, but it sounded unfamiliar and funny in my ear. What in the world is a “firkin”? From the context it seems to be some sort of measure but it is definitely not a term we hear these days. So, we looked it up. A firkin is an old English measurement that equals a quarter of a barrel or about 9 liquid gallons. Wikipedia says that, for storing beer and ale, a firkin is equal to half a kilderkin, and that, for wine, it is a third of a tun and is also called a tertian or puncheon, though in the USA that term is sometimes shortened to pon.
TMI…WTMI…I can hear it rattling through your minds. “Do not be afraid,” as an angel once said. That is all I have to say about the technical realm of firkins. (It does sound a little like some small, hairy creature from the imagination of J. R. R. Tolkein of C. S. Lewis, doesn’t it?) Still, there may be some good news about what is in the firkins in today’s text.
Today the lectionary invites us to consider what is commonly known as Jesus’ first miracle, turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana of Galilee. We do not know exactly why Jesus, his mother and disciples were in attendance at this particular wedding. Cana was nine miles north of Nazareth, a good distance to walk, though, of course, these people walked everywhere and apparently thought little of it. Weddings were village festivals and it would not be uncommon for friends and relatives from miles around to come to event. The celebration itself would have stretched out over several days. Maybe one of this couple was a distant relative or related to old friends of Jesus and Mary or one of the newly formed band of disciples.
It seems that everyone was having a fine time, as would be expected at such a festive time, when disaster struck. Now you or I can imagine the embarrassment of running out of wine at a party or not making enough dip or of burning the cookies, but, with convenience stores on every other corner, those problems can be easily remedied. No such luck in a tiny village in first century Galilee. We also need to understand that, in a culture in which issues of shame and honor were immense, running out of wine would have been a catastrophe. Tom Wright says “Running out of wine was not just inconvenient, but a social disaster and a disgrace. The family would have to live with the shame of it for a long time to come; [the] bride and groom might regard it as bringing bad luck on their married life” (Tom Wright, John for Everyone, Part One, p. 22.)
Can you recall a time when you tread the brink of such shame? Have there been times in your own life when you were overcome with embarrassment, when you said something you wish you’d never uttered and couldn’t take back, when you made a fool of yourself in public, when you hurt people you loved? That might give some inkling of what was in store for this young couple just starting out.
So when Mary comes to Jesus to say the hosts are out of wine it is no small thing. Some writers speculate that Mary is being a nosy neighbor in this scenario. They call it “officious interference.” Debbie Blue says of Mary, “She isn’t a naïve young mother gazing adoringly into the eyes of her sweet infant. She’s more like an irritable, menopausal, Jewish lady kvetching to her unmarried, unemployed son, ‘They have no wine’” (Debbie Blue, “Living the Word” in The Christian Century, January 12, 2010, p. 18.) Perhaps there is a little unkind stereotyping going on in this description, but we did observe last Tuesday that Mary is a significant character in this drama.
In the first place, there is no reason to believe that she is not a strong, wise woman who has raised her brood as a single mother. Remember Joseph was already an old man when Jesus was born. True, Jesus is the son of God, but he is also the son of Mary. It is also reasonable to believe that she had some role in shaping who he had become. Remember the words of the “Magnificat” that Luke places on her tongue, “[God] has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty” (Luke 1:51-53.) And remember that, though a peasant girl, she was also one who found favor with God. Some of Jesus’ compassionate heart must have developed at his mother’s feet.
Maybe she overreacts at the bad news of no wine or maybe she just responds in genuine care and compassion for this young couple. This woman who is said to have pondered the wonders of the birth of her first son and kept them in her heart, turns immediately to him, obviously trusting that he will take care of the problem. The interchange between them is theologically thorny. In spite of the argument from many scholars that his use of the word translated “woman” is one of great respect and deference, it sounds patronizing and dismissive to our modern ears. “What has any of this to do with us? Mind your own business, mom.” It is one of those times when Jesus may sound a little bit less than holy to us.
In John’s gospel, though, it is important to remember that timing is significant. It seems the unfolding of Jesus’ life and ministry is carefully crafted for maximum effect in announcing the in-breaking realm of God. It is not surprising that Mary would not have known all the details of Jesus’ agenda as it was unfolding in his relationship to God. When he says, “My hour is not yet come,” he is speaking of what the Greeks called kairos time rather than cronos time. Cronos time measures ordinary time. It is the time we often convince ourselves we can manipulate and control, that we can schedule in our date books and enter into our Iphones, that we can deal with on our own terms. Jack Good says that “Kairos time, by contrast, represents discontinuity when an unexpected barrier forces one to move off a planned course and adjust to new realities.” This is God’s time breaking into our carefully ordered lives when we least expect and least want the interruption. Good goes on, “Jesus had one schedule in mind. Circumstances pushed him in another direction. His hour, his kairos moment, appeared before he wanted or expected it” (Jack Good, “Defining Moment” in The Christian Century, January 13, 2004, p. 16.)
Some combination of Mary’s trust in him to do the right thing and his own compassion for the situation moved him to act off schedule. And, lo, there were 150 gallons of fine wine where there had only been firkins of water a moment before. I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, but, on first hearing, one might think, “Well, this young man still has some things to learn about performing miracles. I mean, really, so much wine and of such quality, when they’ve already been partying for a good while. Who is going to appreciate all this?”
Of course, we’re not to take all this so literally that we miss the significance of the story – and it is a story about significance. John does not call Jesus’ transformation of the water to wine a miracle. He calls it a sign, the first of series of signs that will point his followers to the realm of God. It is interesting that the second sign John lifts up also occurs in Cana, sometime later. In this second sign, Jesus heals the sick child of a royal official (John 4:46-54,) another unexpected and compassionate act. Surely these signs are meant to stir belief in some sense, but, more than that, John says these signs are to reveal his glory and the glory of God who sent him. These are signs of kairos time, of God breaking in and transforming life. This is the heart of John’s gospel, the signs all point back to this: “…the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14.) Jesus walked the earth, a living signpost for God and to God.
But where do we see such signs today? Where are modern miracles that transform life and save folk from shame and disgrace? Where is mother Mary still at work, chiding her children to compassionate action? Where does Christ still walk the earth hearing and healing, teaching and restoring, calling and leading? When something like the Haitian disaster strikes we wonder where are the signs that point to God’s compassionate reign? When we’re confronted with the horrors of war, when we encounter the homeless and the hungry, when we consider the underinsured and uninsured, when we face the consequences of abuse, we ask where and what are the signs of hope?
The good news in today’s text is that we can still take heart, we can still trust, like Mary, that Jesus will make a difference in lives in which there is great need, including our own. Her words are still significant. “Do whatever he tells you.” Isn’t that a word for us as well? “Do whatever he tells you. Follow his signs, walk his way, do his will.” This is the meaning of discipleship. The heart of compassion is there for us to embrace. Yes, the work of compassion will probably draws out of our cronos time, will disrupt our carefully planned agendas, challenge our arduously crafted life styles. Maybe we will dig a little deeper into our pockets to support the church and its ministries. Maybe we’ll give up some long-held expectation that we thought would define us and make us whole. Maybe we’ll help Greg Mortenson build a school in Afghanistan. Maybe we’ll find ourselves working in Haiti when the time comes. Maybe we’ll find time to visit someone in the hospital or hang with a kid who is despondent and considering suicide. Maybe we’ll write a letter to our legislators demanding justice and equity for all on any number of issues from health care to marriage equality. Maybe we’ll spend more time in prayer. Maybe we’ll find a little unspent energy to support our own faith community.
You see miracles still do happen – miracles of our making. What’s in a firkin? Once Jesus has touched it, it is filled with the abundance of God…God’s love, God’s grace, God’s compassion, God’s healing, God’s power. There it is, one with your name on it, filled to overflowing, way more than you can ever use, and there it sits unless you find some way to ladle it out, the finest wine for you and me and all the world. It’s time to share, to celebrate, party. Come join the feast.
1On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. 2Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. 3When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” 4And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” 5His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” 6Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. 7Jesus said to them, “Fill the jars with water.” And they filled them up to the brim. 8He said to them, “Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward.” So they took it. 9When 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 10and 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.” 11Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.