Homily 22 — John 2, verses 4 to 10

“Woman, what have I to do with you? My hour has not yet come.” [a]

There is some toil in preaching the word, and Paul declares as much when he says, “Let the elders who rule well be counted worthy of double honor, especially those who labor in the word and in teaching” (First Timothy 5, verse 17). Yet it is in your power to make this labor light or heavy. If you reject our words, or if, without actually rejecting them, you do not show them in your actions, our toil will be heavy, because we are laboring uselessly and for nothing. But if you pay attention to them and prove it by your actions, we will not even feel the toil, because the fruit our labor produces will not let the greatness of that labor show. So if you want to rouse our zeal, and not quench or weaken it, show us your fruit, I beg you. Let us see the fields waving with grain; then, held up by hopes of an abundant harvest and counting up your riches, we will not grow slack in carrying on this good trade.

The question put before us today is no small one either. First, when the mother of Jesus says, “They have no wine,” Christ replies, “Woman, what have I to do with you? My hour has not yet come.” And then, having said this, he did what his mother had said — an action that needs looking into no less than the words. So let us call on him who worked the miracle, and then go on to the explanation. [b]

The words are not used in this place only, but in others as well. The same evangelist says, “They could not lay hands on him, because his hour had not yet come” (John 8, verse 20); and again, “No one laid hands on him, because his hour had not yet come” (John 7, verse 30); and again, “The hour has come; glorify your Son” (John 17, verse 1). What, then, do the words mean? I have gathered several instances so that I may give one explanation for them all. And what is that explanation? Christ did not say “My hour has not yet come” as one subject to the necessity of seasons, or bound to keep an “hour.” How could he be, when he is the Maker of the seasons and the Creator of the times and the ages? What else, then, was he pointing to? He wants to show this: that he does everything at its fitting season, not all at once. For a kind of confusion and disorder would have followed if, instead of doing each thing at its proper season, he had mixed everything together — his birth, his resurrection, and his coming to judgment.

Consider this. Creation was to be, but not all at once. Man and woman were to be created, but not even these together. Humankind was to be condemned to death, and there was to be a resurrection, but the interval between the two was to be long. The law was to be given, but not grace along with it; each was to be given out at its proper time. So Christ was not subject to the necessity of seasons; rather, he set their order, since he is their Creator. That is why he says here, “My hour has not yet come.” What he means is that he was not yet known to the many, and did not yet have even his whole band of disciples. Andrew had followed him, and after him Philip, but no one else. What is more, none of these — not even his mother or his brothers — knew him as they should. Even after his many miracles the evangelist says of his brothers, “For not even his brothers believed in him” (John 7, verse 5). And the people at the wedding did not know him either; otherwise, in their need, they would certainly have come to him and begged him.

That is why he says, “My hour has not yet come.” That is to say: “I am not yet known to the guests, and they are not even aware that the wine has run out. Let them first become aware of it. I should not have been told this by you. You are my mother, and you make the miracle open to suspicion. Those who needed the wine should have come and begged me — not that I need this, but so that they might accept the miracle with full conviction. For someone who knows he is in need is very grateful when he gets help; but someone who has no sense of his need will never have a plain and clear sense of the benefit.”

Why, then, after saying “My hour has not yet come” and refusing her, did he do what his mother wanted? Chiefly so that those who opposed him, and thought he was subject to the “hour,” might have ample proof that he was subject to no hour. For if he had been, how could he have done what he did before the proper “hour” had come? Next, he did it to honor his mother, so as not to seem to contradict her flatly and put to shame the one who bore him in front of so many people; and also so that he would not be thought to lack the power, since she had brought the servants to him.

Besides, even when he said to the Canaanite woman, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and give it to the dogs” (Matthew 15, verse 26), he still gave her the bread, out of regard for her persistence. And though after his first reply he said, “I am sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel,” even after saying this he healed the woman’s daughter. From this we learn that even though we are unworthy, we often make ourselves worthy to receive by persistence. That is why his mother stayed by him and openly brought the servants to him, so that the request might be made by more people. And so she added: [c]

Verse 5: “Whatever he tells you, do it.”

For she knew that his refusal came not from lack of power but from humility, and so that he would not seem to rush to the miracle without cause; that is why she brought the servants.

Verses 6 and 7: “And there were set there six stone water jars, after the manner of the purification of the Jews, holding twelve to eighteen gallons each. Jesus said to them, ‘Fill the water jars with water.’ And they filled them to the brim.”

It is not without reason that the evangelist says “after the manner of the purification of the Jews.” He says it so that none of the unbelievers might suspect that dregs had been left in the jars, and that water had been poured in on top and mixed with them to make a very weak wine. So he says “after the manner of the purification of the Jews” to show that those vessels had never held wine. Palestine is a country with little water, and streams and springs were not to be found everywhere. So they always kept water jars filled with water, so that if at any time they became unclean they would not have to hurry off to the rivers, but would have the means of purification at hand.

“And why did he not do the miracle before they filled them? That would have been far more marvelous. For it is one thing to change existing matter into a different quality, and another to create matter out of nothing.” The second would indeed have been more wonderful, but it would not have seemed as believable to the many. That is why he often deliberately lessens the greatness of his miracles, so that they may be more readily accepted.

“But why,” someone says, “did he not produce the water himself — the water he afterward showed to be wine — instead of telling the servants to bring it?” For the very same reason; and also so that he might have those who drew it out as witnesses that what had been done was no illusion. If anyone had been inclined to brazen it out, those who served could have said to them: “We drew the water; we filled the jars.” [e]

Besides what we have mentioned, in this way he overthrows the teachings that spring up against the church. There are some who say that the Creator of the world is someone else, and that the things we see are not his works but those of some other, opposing god. To curb these men’s madness, he does most of his miracles on material found at hand. For if the creator of these things had been opposed to him, he would not have used what belonged to another to display his own power. But as it is, to show that he is the one who transforms the water in the vines, and who turns the rain into wine as it passes through the root, he did in a moment at the wedding what in the plant takes a long time. When they had filled the water jars, he said:

Verses 8 to 10: “Draw some out now, and take it to the master of the feast.” And they took it. When the master of the feast had tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (but the servants who had drawn the water knew), the master of the feast called the bridegroom and said to him, “Everyone serves the good wine first, and when people have drunk a great deal, then the poorer wine. But you have kept the good wine until now.”

Here again some people mock, saying: “This was a gathering of drunken men. The judges’ senses were spoiled; they could not taste what had been made or judge what had been done, so they did not know whether what was made was water or wine. That they were drunk, they claim, “the master of the feast himself has shown by what he said.” [g]

Now this is utterly ridiculous; yet the evangelist has removed even this suspicion. He does not say that the guests gave their opinion on the matter, but “the master of the feast,” who was sober and had not yet tasted anything. You know, of course, that those entrusted with managing such banquets are the most sober of all, since they have this one business: to arrange everything in good order and proper form. That is why the Lord called on such a man’s sober senses to bear witness to what was done. He did not say, “Pour it out for those at the table,” but, “Take it to the master of the feast.”

“And when the master of the feast had tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (but the servants knew), the master of the feast called the bridegroom.” “And why did he not call the servants? That way the miracle would have come out.” Because Jesus himself had not revealed what had been done, but wanted the power of his miracles to become known gently, little by little. And suppose it had been told then: the servants who told it would never have been believed, but would have been thought mad for bearing such witness to one who at that time seemed to most people a mere man. Even though they knew the certainty of the thing by experience — for they were hardly likely to disbelieve their own hands — they were not enough to convince others. So he did not reveal it to everyone, but to the man best able to understand what had been done, and kept the clearer knowledge of it for a later time, since once other miracles had been made known, this one too would be believed.

So when he was about to heal the nobleman’s son, the evangelist has shown that the miracle had by then become more widely known. For it was chiefly because the nobleman had learned of it that he called on him, as John shows in passing when he says, “Jesus came into Cana of Galilee, where he had made the water wine” (John 4, verse 46). And not simply wine, but the best wine.

For such are Christ’s miraculous works: they are far more perfect and better than the workings of nature. This can be seen in other cases too. When he restored any disabled part of the body, he made it better than a sound one.

That what had been made was wine, and the best of wine, not only the servants but also the bridegroom and the master of the feast would testify; and that Christ had made it, those who drew the water would testify. So even though the miracle was not revealed at the time, it could not in the end be passed over in silence, so many compelling testimonies had he provided for the future. That he had made the water wine, he had the servants as witnesses; that the wine he made was good, he had the master of the feast and the bridegroom.

One might have expected the bridegroom to answer this remark of the master of the feast and say something. But the evangelist, hurrying on to more pressing matters, has only touched on this miracle and passed on. What we needed to learn was that Christ made the water wine, and good wine at that; what the bridegroom said to the master of the feast he did not think it necessary to add. And many miracles that were somewhat obscure at first have become plainer over time, when they were reported more exactly by those who knew them from the beginning.

At that time, then, Jesus made wine out of water; and both then and now he does not stop changing our weak and unstable wills. For there are — yes, there are — people who are no different from water, so cold and weak and unsettled are they. But let us bring those of this disposition to the Lord, so that he may change their will into the quality of wine, so that they are no longer watery but have body, and become a cause of gladness to themselves and to others. [h]

But who can these cold people be? They are those who give their minds to the fleeting things of this present life, who do not despise this world’s luxury, who love glory and power. For all these things are flowing waters, never stable, always rushing violently down the slope. The rich man today is poor tomorrow. The man who one day appears with a herald and a belt and a chariot and many attendants is often, the next day, living in a dungeon, having left all that display against his will to make room for someone else. Again, the glutton and the man given to dissipation, when he has stuffed himself to bursting, cannot keep even for a single day the supply his delicacies brought in. When that is used up, he has to put in more to renew it, and he is no different from a torrent. For as in a torrent, when the first body of water has gone, others succeed it in turn, so in gluttony, when one meal has gone, we need another again.

Such is the nature and the lot of earthly things: never to be stable, but always pouring and hurrying by. But with luxury it is not only the flowing and hurrying by; many other things trouble us besides. By the violence of its course it wears away the body’s strength and strips the soul of its manly vigor. The strongest river currents do not eat away their banks and make them cave in as easily as luxury and loose living sweep away all the defenses of our health. If you go into a physician’s house and ask him, you will find that almost all the causes of disease arise from this.

For frugality and a plain table are the mother of health, and that is why physicians have named them so. They have called not eating one’s fill “health” — for not to be filled with food is health — and they have spoken of a sparing diet as “the mother of health.” Now if going without is the mother of health, it is clear that being stuffed full is the mother of sickness and weakness, and brings on attacks that are beyond even the physicians’ skill. Gout in the feet, strokes, dimness of sight, pains in the hands, trembling, paralysis, jaundice, lingering and burning fevers, and many other diseases besides these — for we do not have time to go through them all — are the natural offspring not of self-denial and a moderate diet, but of gluttony and overeating.

And if you look at the diseases of the soul that arise from them, you will see that greed, sloth, gloom, dullness, impurity, and folly of every kind have their origin here. For after such banquets the souls of those who live in luxury become no better than donkeys, torn to pieces by such wild beasts as these passions. Shall I tell you also how many pains and annoyances those who serve luxury suffer? I could not list them all, but I will make the whole thing clear by one main point. At a table such as I am speaking of — a lavish one, that is — people never eat with pleasure. For self-denial is the mother of pleasure as well as of health, while being stuffed full is the source and root not only of diseases but of discomfort. Where there is satiety, there can be no desire; and where there is no desire, how can there be pleasure? That is why we would find that the poor are not only more sensible and healthier than the rich, but also enjoy more pleasure.

When we reflect on this, let us flee drunkenness and luxury — not only that of the table, but every other kind found in the things of this life — and take in exchange for it the pleasure that comes from spiritual things. As the prophet says, let us delight ourselves in the Lord: “Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart” (Psalm 37, verse 4). So may we enjoy the good things both here and hereafter, through the grace and love for humankind of our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom and with whom be glory to the Father and the Holy Spirit, forever and ever. Amen.