Against Austerity

"There was some one thing that was too great for God to show us when He walked upon our earth; and I have sometimes fancied that it was His mirth."

This quote, from G.K Chesterton’s book Orthodoxy has been on my mind whilst I have been preparing this sermon. I am sure that Chesterton had a very clever and insightful meaning behind it, but I am not certain that I agree with him.

My view is that the joy of our Lord Jesus is often veiled from our sight when we read the Gospels. This may be because our tired adult eyes have lost the ability to recognise it. Our imaginations are dry. We cannot see the twinkle in Jesus’ eye and we cannot hear the irony in his voice or conceive the humorous gestures he might make.

This has become apparent to me recently as I have been reading the Sermon on the Mount with my children. I’ve never thought of the Sermon on the Mount as funny before but apparently they do. When Jesus talks about salt losing its taste, for example, or buying a lamp only to hide it under a basket, they laugh. Why? Because these are absurd images that Jesus chooses to illustrate how silly we can be at times. And there are many other examples of things that Jesus said and did that we, as adults, probably gloss over, not taking the time to appreciate the subtle satire of human nature or the humorous imagery because we are attempting to get at some kind of deep religious meaning that couldn’t possibly have anything to do with joy or laughter.

And so I come to a basic point about today’s Gospel reading, before I get to the serious theology (and, of course, there is some very deep and very serious theology to talk about):

‘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.’

Consider this: for the first thirty years of his life, Jesus did no ministry that we know of. He probably worked with his hands as a carpenter, in the workshop of his father Joseph. After thirty years of preparation for what would be three years of the most intense, impactful, world-shaking ministry there has been, he made a start. How? By attending a wedding.

And it wasn’t just that he attended. It was that he was invited with his disciples. Immediately this tells us something about Jesus: that he was not some kind of antisocial, austere, religious killjoy who was disliked by ordinary people, that he was not aloof from the ordinary life of folks around him in his social circle, in his family milieu.

Just imagine a Jewish wedding feast of this sort, that goes on and on, perhaps for days: Do you think Jesus would have joined in the dancing? Do you think he sang? Do you think he drank wine? He would have done all of these things and would have had no trouble in manifesting the joy that dwelt within him.

I mention all of this because I want to speak against religious austerity. That is, the notion that religion, if it is to be proper, must be serious and cannot be joyful, mirthful, or involve humour. The fact is that we are made for joy by a God who is in himself infinite joy. We see some of the fact that we were made for joy in Jesus’ decision (in obedience to the will of the Father) to perform his first sign at a social occasion, and at the kind of social occasion most associated with joy and happiness, feasting, song, and wine.

All of this is not to say that we ought not to take seriously our religious obligations or that we ought not to dress smartly at church, or whatever it might be. But it is to say that we mustn’t do these things in a spirit of stuffy self-righteousness and self-importance, or, even worse, in a spirit of judgemental pharisaism that looks down on other people and maybe even other Christians because they are doing things properly. This is a deadly spiritual trap into which it is very, very easy indeed to fall. I have seen it many times. Indeed, sometimes I see it in my own heart.

The Blood of the New Covenant

But there is a richness and a depth here. Let’s think about the role that wine has to play in this story. Firstly, wine is present at the wedding and aids the celebration of the guests. But an organisational disaster occurs when the wine runs out. This would have been a highly embarrassing and stressful moment for the organisers.

After an exchange with his mother Jesus turns his focus to six stone water jars that were there for the Jewish rites of purification. He has the servants fill them with water and then, at some point we are not told when or how, he miraculously transforms that water into wine, which is subsequently tasted by the master of the festivities who compares it favourably to the wine which had been flowing previously: “Everyone serves the good wine first…but you have saved the best wine till now.”

I mentioned earlier that John describes this as the first of Jesus “signs”. The word “sign” here has a theological meaning: it refers to a symbolic and miraculous act that tells us something about Jesus’ true identity. To use a technical term, there is Christological meaning in this sign.

The water, in this context, is symbolic of the ceremonial and sacrificial system given to Moses in the Old Covenant and observed up until that time in the Jewish religion. That system prescribed the sacrifice of animals and other types of food, the washing of the body, and various other things, in order to keep the people in a state of ritual and religious cleanliness before God. This was how, in other words, they made atonement for their sins. This was how they came back into relationship with God when they were separated from him.

But, even in the writings of the Old Covenant (what we call the Old Testament) there were hints that this sacrificial system was a sign that was pointing to something else.

What was it pointing to? A greater and final sacrifice, a sacrifice so great that it has the power to purchase forgiveness for sin and reconciliation with God for all mankind. This is the sacrifice that Jesus would go on to make upon the cross. And this is what is symbolised by the transformation of the water of the sacrificial system into the wine touched by Christ. This is what we learn about Christ: that he would give his life, shed his blood, so that the sacrificial system might find its fulfilment in his sacrifice upon the cross.

The wedding feast is, therefore, a time of joy and singing, laughter and life, but the shadow of the cross is never far away. Jesus will rejoice now, but he will sorrow later. And he will do this to bring us to God.

The Eucharistic Chalice

And this brings me to what we are doing today: Holy Communion, the Eucharist, the Mass. For, in a sense, all the same themes are present here for us today. We rejoice in God’s goodness in our lives and in this world and in his presence to us. In this way, the Holy Eucharist foreshadows the Wedding Feast of the Lamb which we look forward to at the end of history. The moment at which all pain, suffering, evil, death, injustice, is forever banished from God’s creation. God’s people will be gathered to him in Christ and there will be joy and laughter in God’s presence forever. The Bible uses the image of a wedding feast for a reason: union, joy, newness of life, happiness, laughter, bliss. We all know what they are like if we have ever been to one or even been the bride or groom.

But there is something else too: the wine that we drink not only symbolises new creation, life, laughter, and joy. But it symbolises the Blood of Christ. Indeed it is the Blood of Christ. And it poured out for you. “Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him” (John 6:54-56).

The world needs the blood of Christ. You need the blood of Christ. I need the blood of Christ. Why? Because our sins have separated us from God. God desires that we know eternal joy and happiness, that we drink the wine of the Wedding Feast of the Kingdom, but first we must be reconciled to him. And God has provided the means through Jesus: the blood, the sacrifice of the cross, the suffering that Jesus endured that he might purchase forgiveness, and that our sins might be washed out. This is what is on offer to you today. Will you come to him in faith that you will be forgiven, reconciled, strengthened, made joyful even in the midst of sorrow? All of this is promised to us if we will come in faith and receive his broken body, if we will be renewed by his shed blood.

Come in faith. You may not be baptised or in a situation in which you cannot receive the bread and the wine this morning. Come to the altar for a blessing and seek baptism, confirmation, absolution, or whatever it might be in the coming days. But the important thing is that you come. Come in faith that you will receive God’s love, his forgiveness, his joy.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.