The Presence of Joy

Ordinary Time II; January 14, 2007

John 2:1-11

The highway patrolman noticed that a car ahead was doing some weaving on the highway, so he suspected either a drunk driver or a driver with a crisis. So he turned on his lights and pulled the car over. He walked to the driver’s window and was surprised to see that the driver was wearing a clerical collar; it was Pastor Larsen. “Are you all right, Pastor?” the patrolman answered. “Certainly; thank you for asking,” Larsen replied, slurring his words slightly. “Pastor, have you been drinking?” “No!” The patrolman pointed to a bottle on the passenger seat; it had been opened, but was stoppered. “That looks like a bottle of wine,” he said, and the Pastor responded that it was a wine bottle, but was filled with water. “I always take water with me when I drive.” The patrolman asked for the bottle and Pastor Larsen handed it to him; the officer opened the bottle, sniffed, and said, “This smells like wine to me.” The Pastor slapped his head and said, “My God, he’s done it again!”

The story of Jesus, his mother and his disciples at the marriage feast of Cana is a wonderful, multi-faceted story. Sometimes I get to read it at weddings, and so focus on the event which is the occasion for the miracle. Sometimes, especially in Bible studies, I get on the rational-apologetic track, trying to make sense of the miracle (which of course misses the point). There are times when I focus on the point of the story, which John makes perfectly clear: “Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.” (v. 11)

Then there are times when, after reading this story, I feel as though I have savored something beautiful and I think about it more poetically. This is one of those times; I am under the influence of today’s Old Testament reading (Isaiah 62:1-5), with its magnificent picture of God’s joy in his New Jerusalem. The Prophet has a vision of God as a young man – not the geezer we normally picture – a young man just married to the woman with whom he is passionately in love: the New Jerusalem.

Imagine yourselves at the wedding feast in Cana, one of the disciples who went to the party with Jesus and his Mother. You overhear what Mary says to her Son and you wonder what she has in mind. Does she think that the fact that they’ve run out of wine means the party is over and it’s time to leave? Or does she want Jesus to say something to the crowd before they start to get upset about the shortage – perhaps to save the groom’s honor and to soothe people’s feelings? (This is what John Calvin suggests in his commentary on John.) Or does she have in mind something along the lines of what happens – that Jesus should do something about the shortage?

Whatever Mary is thinking, Jesus first figures it’s not time to play his hand in public, but then takes her cue and does something about the shortage of wine. And he goes overboard. Jesus not only produces wine, but he produces a lot of wine! According to the steward of the feast, it’s not the sort of wine you might buy in quantity – Vino Fino, vintage Thursday, what I like to call “utility wine” – but it’s the best wine at the party. The gifts Jesus gives are abundant and good. Furthermore, when the steward of the feast commends the bridegroom for serving such good wine late in the party, 1 Jesus does not pop up and say, “Yoo-hoo! That was my doing! I get the credit!” He is content to remain anonymous, so that only his disciples (including his Mother) and the servants know who really is the source of their good time.

Moments like these – and there are lots of moments like these in the Bible – get me thinking of the song, “The Joy of the Lord is my Strength.” That line, incidentally, is taken from the Book of Nehemiah (8:10), from an event that will be our Old Testament reading next week. The law of God is read to the people and they begin to weep and wail for their sins, but the leaders say, “Don’t weep! This is a holy day! Go eat fatty meats and drink sweet wine and be sure to share them with your neighbors – have a good time! For, after all, the joy of the Lord is your strength.” If you don’t believe me, look it up for yourself.

When Mary says to her Son, “They’ve run out of wine,” he doesn’t answer, “Good; they’ve been overindulging.” Nor does he stand up and give them a lecture on how to behave themselves. He gives good gifts for their celebration.

A brief parenthetical comment: throughout the Bible, wine is a component of celebration, as well as an ordinary part of one’s daily intake. They had not heard of the disease of alcoholism and would not have understood how dangerous wine can be for some people. So I hope you will be able to stay with the image: the wine itself is not the point, but rather is a symbol of celebration.

My strongest sense of the presence of God is the experience of joy. “The joy of the Lord is my strength.” God gives joy. I remember hearing a sermon when I was a teenager in which my Pastor talked about the difference between joy and happiness. Happiness, he said, is dependent on circumstances. Good weather makes you happy; when your stock portfolio increases in value, you are happy. Receiving a letter from a good friend makes you happy. When your child does well in the school program you are happy.

Joy is deeper and joy is a reality even when things are not going well. The letter from a friend makes you happy, but knowing you have such a friend is an occasion of joy. Your child’s performance makes you happy, but that there is such a child in your life is a joy. A particular hymn or a particular worship service may help you feel happy, but joy is to know that you are loved by God.

A personal story: in preparing to preach on joy, I asked myself, “When have I recently experienced joy?” It is important to share such an event with you so you know that what I am saying is not merely book-learning, but I know what I’m talking about. I kept in mind my Pastor’s distinction between joy and happiness. Also, I kept in mind what C. S. Lewis wrote in his memoir Surprised by Joy, about how joy feels, and yet that the experience of joy is not remarkable in itself, but rather is remarkable for what it points to. Here, from the end of the book, is an important passage:

To tell you the truth, the subject [of joy] has lost nearly all interest for me since I became a Christian… I believe (if the thing were at all worth recording) that the old stab, the old bittersweet, has come to me as often and as sharply since my conversion as at any time of my life whatever. But I now know that the experience, considered as a state of my own mind, had never had the kind of importance I once gave it. It was valuable only as a pointer to something other and outer. While that other was in doubt, the pointer naturally loomed large in my thoughts. When we are lost in the woods the sight of a signpost is a great matter. He who first sees it cries, “Look!” The whole party gathers round and stares. But when we have found the road and are passing signposts every few miles, we shall not stop and stare.2

As a Christian, of course, I pass such signposts from time to time. One happened one morning as I was saying my prayers. I sit in a rocking chair in my study at home, facing the front window and with a candle burning. The Daily Prayer edition of the Presbyterian Book of Common Worship is my guide and it and my Bible sit on the desk next to me. I had read the Scriptures of the day and settled my mind to pray, when a sort of pressing in came upon me and an inexplicable sense of exhilaration. I had the overwhelming sensation that God is love: not a personal sense that God loved me, even less a sense of my love for God; I was not part of the equation at all. It was simply a deep sense that God is love. Fortunately (!), it passed and I could get on with my prayers and with the tasks of the day. It stands as a signpost on the road, but only a signpost, for the road is the highway to the New Jerusalem.

Where is all this taking us? Back to the wedding feast at Cana, where Jesus has provided good, abundant wine and let the groom take credit. Who really is the groom in the wedding that matters most? Remember the Prophet: God is like the young man at his wedding reception, dancing with the woman he loves; that is, the New Jerusalem, the people of God. If your God doesn’t dance, I don’t want to know Him. If He does dance, then I’ll let Him lead. Remember King David, dancing his heart out in the presence of God (II Samuel 6:12-16). God is love itself, and our life in this world is God’s courtship of us. The Prophet Hosea hears God say about His people, “Therefore, I will now allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her.” (Hosea 2:14) And, in the final lines of the Bible, the Prophet John has a vision of the New Jerusalem, “prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.” (Revelation 21:2)

Wherever there is joy, good and abundant, you and I need not look far for our husband. Yes, in the great story of love and of the courtship of God, you and I are the bride and our husband is the One who provides the best and the most abundant presence of joy.

We praise you, we bless you, we glorify you, Lord Jesus Christ, with God the Father, in the unity of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Robert A. Keefer

Westminster Presbyterian Church

Clarinda, Iowa

[1] Of course, it is possible the steward was chiding the groom, not commending him. It can be read either way; this way works best for my treatment of the story today.

2 C. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy: The Shape of My Early Life (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1955), p. 238.