Jesus in the Small Stuff - John 2: 1-11

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

I was having a conversation with an individual the other day and he said, “I know Jesus cares about me and my family. I know He died on the cross for my salvation. I know He provides daily bread for me. But, you know, some days, it would be nice to know Jesus cares about the little stuff.”

You ever feel like that? You know Jesus has cared for you into eternity, but The check engine light came on while driving to work the other day. That’s going to be a couple hundred bucks, and you’re still paying off the Amazon charges from Christmas. The last quarter’s reports weren’t as good as the company hoped for and your department was given a not-so-subtle suggestion that the numbers could be much better. The tickle that you’ve had in your throat and the nagging cough that has been there since Thanksgiving just won’t go away. We’ve got weather coming and you are, shall we say, in a heightened state of curiosity about the pipes freezing like they did in ’21. Your sibling called and bragged about how great the family is doing, practically a 21^st century Brady Bunch Meets the Huxtables, and meanwhile you feel like you’re stuck in a rerun of the Simpsons meets Peg and Al Bundy. It would be nice to know Jesus cares about the little stuff.

In this morning’s Gospel lesson Jesus is invited to a wedding. That always strikes me as interesting. Here He is, the Savior of the world, God who has taken on flesh to dwell among us, who is doing battle with satan and all of his evil minions, who will face both His mortal death as well as our deserved eternal death, and He takes time to attend a wedding.

In the ancient world, weddings were a week-long event, a celebration that involved the community as well as the families of the bride and groom.  Can you imagine the logistics of planning for this? To run out of food or drink at a wedding in our culture is a terrible embarrassment. In the ancient world, with no easy and rapid way of resupplying, it was a faux pax of the highest order. To run out of wine at only day three of the seven-day feast would forevermore brand this groom as incapable and incompetent.

Over and against this personal disaster, Jesus acts. He changes the water into wine – not just any wine, mind you, but the best of the best.

But it’s just a wedding. Why does Jesus care? It’s just some wine. It’s just a moment of embarrassment. This is small potatoes. It’s not like other narratives we know, other times when Jesus steps in, life-and-death moments like the centurion’s servant who was dying, or the demon-possessed boy who threw himself into the fire, or the 5000 who could riot if not fed. It’s surely not as important as Lazarus who was 3-days dead in the tomb.

So, why? Why does Jesus act? Jesus does this to fulfill the Law: Love your neighbor.

The Law is a funny thing. We think of the Law as being bad but, in truth, that’s because we look at the Law through the back-side. We look at the Law through our sinful nature. What I mean is when we get caught, the Law is bad. You get a ticket for speeding, you get caught sneaking out of work early, the teacher discovers you used AI for your paper, and we grumble and grouse about the “stupid rules.” The image we often have of God is like the stern Uncle Sam, pointing his finger at us. Rather, we should have a mental image of a father gently teaching and instructing his children. The law, both man’s law and God’s Law are good. In the case of God’s Law, it is, in fact, holy. The purpose of the Law is to prescribe how God’s people are to live, and to describe what it looks like as a child of God. The Law is good. In fact, if you want to summarize God’s Law, you can do it in one word: Love. Love God and love your neighbor.

 Love your neighbor. Luther explains it this way: you show love by not hurting nor harming our neighbor, but helping and befriending him in his needs. Jesus helps and befriends the unnamed groom.

Jesus is fulfilling the Law by demonstrating what love looks like, even if it is “only” over wine. Jesus demonstrates His love for us, even in what seems to be the small stuff. Jesus doesn’t quantify love as big or small; He simply loves. Yet, His love is anything but simple. It is full, complete, love without boundary or limit. Jesus’ love is perfect in quality; it is unending in quantity.

Imagine it was your best friend’s wedding in crisis. In a pinch, you could hit 7-11, Specs, and Canes Chicken. It might not be high cuisine, at least you keep the party going until the final toast. You would do this for your best friend’s wedding; you would do it for a family member. But, what if it’s just someone you know, and aren’t particularly close to, would you do the same? We qualify our neighborly love to determine who we serve. We quantify our love to figure out how much we will love. Or, we put ourselves first. We'll let others know just how inconvenienced we are by having to run to the store, and had we not rushed in to save the day, this would have been a total disaster. Maybe we'll snap a few photos to post on social media, or share some snide comments: well, what else do you expect from the likes of him.

Jesus does nothing of the sort. Jesus’ love is extraordinary, demonstrated in His own time and in His own way to his neighbor. It’s also demonstrated without qualification or quantification. What else can Jesus do, but bring the best in caring for His neighbor? This isn’t Two Buck Chuck or Mad Dog 20-20; it’s not even the twenty-dollar twist-off from the grocery store. This is the kind of wine spoken of with reverence, kept in locked, climate-controlled cellars, described as having rich, complex flavors and nuances that most palates cannot discern, the kind of wine reserved for only the most intimate of friends and family.

That’s who these people are for Jesus: the groom’s guests are Jesus’ neighbors, all of them recipients – even unknowingly, but still recipients – of His loving action. And, it’s not just a little bit of the good stuff. This is somewhere around 150 gallons, which would be around 700 bottles of excellent, magnificent wine. Jesus has saved the best – both in quality and quantity – for last.

Jesus loves His neighbors perfectly. There is no joyful laughter at the groom’s poor planning; no social media posts to shame his lack of preparation. There isn’t complaining about how the guests are being mistreated. There isn’t gossip questioning where the money for the wine has gone, or why there seems to be missing wine. There’s no trying to manipulate the crowd. There’s no with-holding the best wine for his own private after-party. Instead, Jesus loves; Jesus gives. He gives the best – even in the small stuff, the seemingly insignificant stuff. He gives the best.

In the text, only the master of ceremonies recognizes the gift, but he misses out on the giver, mistakenly giving credit to the groom. St. John makes sure we know: the giver is Jesus; He saves the best for last.  He saves the best - Himself - for the last - the sins of the world. While the sign does show Jesus’ glory as the Son of God, it is not yet His hour. His hour is yet to come. There is much foreshadowing here: the water to wine foreshadows when Christ takes the cup with His disciples and says “This is my blood, shed for you.” The sign of water to wine is also reversed at the cross when blood and water are separated and flow from His pierced side. And, to make sure you know that this is all pointing to the cross, at Cana, Jesus hour had not yet come. In the Garden of Gethsemane, with His disciples resting nearby, Jesus prays, “Now the hour has come,” (17:1). The cross is – literally and figuratively – on the horizon. Mary, Jesus’ mother, is present here, at the wedding. The only other time Mary appears in John’s Gospel is when she stands at the foot of the cross when her Son shows His perfect love for a sinful world.

John tells us this is the first of Jesus’ signs – you’ll note, he doesn’t call it a miracle. It’s a sign. That’s John’s way of illustrating Jesus isn’t just a miracle worker; He is God in flesh. He is Messiah. Remember, Jesus means “Savior.” John names seven signs in His Gospel, the 7^th being Lazarus’ resurrection. Seven is a number of completion; eight is a number of a new beginning. There is an eighth sign, but it isn’t named because it’s so obvious: Jesus own resurrection.

Now, take that truth and go back to the beginning when I shared this person’s desire to know Jesus cares about the small stuff. What does that look like? Your child is acting up in church and it’s a struggle to even be here, let alone listen. A friendly face and gentle hands offer to help, giving you just a moment’s respite. That’s Jesus caring about the small stuff. You’re wrestling with what the doctor has just told you, trying to figure out how the treatment plan is going to work and how you’ll manage the deductible. A friend calls and after the polite back and forth, she says, “Now, how are you really doing?” and then she gives you space to tell your concerns and fears. That’s Jesus caring about the small stuff. You didn’t do so well on that homework assignment and test last week, and you’re feeling pretty bad. The teacher says, “You know, I had a bad week, too, but I think we’ll both be OK” and suddenly you don’t feel so alone. That’s Jesus in the small stuff. 

You open your Bible tonight, looking for a word – just a word – of hope and encouragement before you fall asleep. He is there, in those words on the page. That’s Jesus in the small stuff. In a moment, you’ll come to the altar and you will receive what appears to be a flat piece of bread and a sip of wine, but combined with His Word of promise, it is also His body and blood. That’s Jesus in the small stuff. And, when you leave here shortly, you do so under the Lord’s three-fold blessing. That’s Jesus in the small stuff.

He's in the small stuff because of His perfect love for you.

In the name of Jesus.
Amen.