I’m reading John chapter 2 today and thinking about the
lavishness of God.
The setting of Jesus’ first miracle is a wedding, which in
first-century Jewish culture was a week-long affair to which nearly the whole
town was invited. Back then, drinking wine was the equivalent of drinking
water: in fact, their wine was mostly (anywhere from 30-90%) water. It was less
to enhance the wine than to improve the water, which by itself was unsanitary
to drink, causing nausea, dysentery, or worse. Lowering the alcohol content
through dilution was probably necessary as everyone from babies to adults drank
the stuff, all day long.
Paul Lukacs writes an intriguing
book called Inventing Wine in which he notes that ancient wine contained
additives such as pitch, lead, lye, ash, resin, gypsum, marble dust and myrrh,
to make the wine more drinkable. They would then add honey, salt, pepper, and
all kinds of spices and oils to improve the flavor. Ancient wine likely tasted
nothing like our wines today. I like his quote from Pliny: “It is a proof that
wine is beginning to go bad if a sheet of lead when dipped in it turns a
different color.”
So when the bridegroom ran out of wine only three days into
the wedding, it was a deep and public embarrassment: more like running out of
water in a culture where hospitality was highly valued, than like not having a
wet bar at the reception. Jesus asks the servants to fill six thirty-gallon
jars with water, which he turns into wine—the best wine.
Now the symbolism here is rife—the emptiness of Judaic
rituals replaced by the poured-out wine-blood sacrifice to come. Our shame
replaced by the restoration and satisfaction wine symbolizes (Amos 9:13-14,
Joel 2:19). The baptism by water John the Baptist proffered replaced by the baptism
into salvation by Jesus’ blood, and the intoxicating Holy Spirit. Jesus as
creator, creating something that brings noticeable joy to the celebration,
blessing the institution of marriage and pointing to the marriage supper of the
Lamb (Rev 19:9).
But look just at the numbers of the thing: six jars holding
20-30 gallons each; let’s say 25 gallons, to average it. Each filled to the
brim. That’s 150 gallons, or 567,750 mL. If an average glass of wine is 175 mL,
then Jesus made just over 3,244 glasses of wine. You could then debate whether
that wine was diluted with water, presumably after being tasted by the master
of the feast but prior to being served to the guests; if three parts of water
were used for one part of wine, then that’s possibly nearly 13,000 glasses of
watered wine. Some commentators suggest this was Jesus’ wedding gift to the
couple, who could sell it afterwards to supply their financial needs.
Jesus gives lavishly. In the areas of our life where we are
empty, when our own efforts to purify ourselves fall short, Jesus fills us up,
to the brim, with lavish grace, with life to the full. He meets our thirsts and
brings us from shame to celebration. When we follow in faith and obedience, we
are witnesses, like the servants drawing the liquid from the jars: privy to the
miracle, beholders of the glory.
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