Lent 1 – The Good News is so good it catches us by surprise
I am pretty sure that you weren’t expecting to start Lent off with a wedding and a miracle. Usually we start Lent in the midst of the wilderness, wandering along side Jesus as he lives rough for forty days and is tempted by a less than wholesome character. You might have expected something restrained, solemn, quiet even. Instead we find ourselves smack dab in the middle of a wedding feast – who knows how long it’s been going – and Jesus and his mom are there as guests. It’s a celebration with food, wine and laughter. A gathering of friends and family, of community. Its in the midst of this joy that over hear that the hosts have some how run out of wine. There is no more wine. None.
Now, in our context, this doesn’t seem like a big deal. But in Jesus’ time, this was no small matter. There’s no running out to the local liquor mart to pick up some more bottles. In Jesus’ time wedding celebrations lasted for days. Hospitality was a sacred. To run out of wine was to bring shame upon the host family. The celebration would falter. There’d be whispers around town. This kind of embarrassment could linger long after the guests had gone home. The wine has run out.
And it’s Jesus’s mother who notices. You’ll notice that her name is never mentioned – just her connection to Jesus. Jesus’ mother, the one who knew him best and who knew what he was capable of… she notices there’s no more wine.
She goes to Jesus, and very plainly tells him the situation. No panic, no scolding, just names what is missing. And then comes Jesus’ response, which tends to leave us all a little shocked…
“woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.”
Woah, Jesus… some of us have been grounded for less back talk than that.
Reluctance from Jesus was not at all what his mother expected, let alone those of us on this side of the page. Why the hesitation?
May Jesus hesitated because running out of wine didn’t seem to be the biggest tragedy given all that was happening in the world. Or maybe he felt the guests were drunk enough. Or maybe once the signs and miracles begin, the path toward his inevitable future would begin. But there is something about divine purpose unfolding in ways we do not always understand or even perceive.
And yet, Jesus’ mother doesn’t argue… there are no grand theological conversations nor does she keep at Jesus, insisting that he do something. She simply turns to the nearest servant and quietly says: “Do whatever he tells you.”
Jesus tells the servants to fill the six large stone jars – each holding about twenty or thirty gallons of water meant for purification rituals. The jars are filled, almost to overflowing.
Here’s were the extravagance in this miracle comes in because now those stone jars are full to the brim with wine – and not mediocre, end of the party wine, but fine wine meant to be savoured. This is not a modest miracle. And there isn’t just enough to get to the end of the party.
The steward, who is in charge of the wine and food, takes a sip of this new wine and is astonished. “You’ve saved the good wine until now.” I imagine this is both question and statement. This is quite unusual. The good wine is served first, when the guests can enjoy it, and then later, you bring out the okay wine, when the guests no longer care about quality.
And this is how John launches Jesus’ public ministry. There’s no healing, no castings out, no sermons on repentance, or kindness, or the kingdom of God.
Just abundance. Some reluctance. And a lot of joy.
It’s that abundance and joy that makes this feel like a surprising way to start Lent. Shouldn’t we be talking about giving up wine, chocolate, Instagram? Maybe the story of the wedding in cana tells us something about God. That Lent doesn’t haven’t to start in scarcity, just like God’s work doesn’t start in scarcity but rather it starts with abundance and joy.
The reality for us in 2026 is that we feel the tension held between the joy and abundance of the story and the reality of the world around us: where many lack clean water, where food insecurity is a reality, where war and displacement is an everyday reality for many. How can we feel excited about a story where we end up with 180 gallons of fine wine in the midst of an on going party?
John would have known the significance of wine in abundance for the people of Israel. The Hebrew Scriptures are full of references to abundant wine as it acts as a symbol of restoration, of covenant renewal. Situations with abundant wine point to a future where shame is lifted and joy is restored. The prophets speak of a time when the mountains will drip with sweet wine – instilling hope in a seemingly hopeless exiled people.
So maybe, Jesus’ miracle isn’t meant to impress the hosts and the guests. Maybe it is about revealing the heart of God and God’s dreams for creation. For God’s greatest desire is for all to know abundance – for the whole of humanity, for the entirety of creation. This desire is not reserved for a small group of people. This is a desire for all to not just have enough but to have more than enough.
You’ll notice that it’s not the hosts or the newly married couple who discover this miracle. The steward even has no idea where the wine has come from. It’s the servants who filled and lugged the heavy jars who see it first. It’s witnessed by those who are often ignored or pushed away because of their status or place in the community. But here at the very beginning of Jesus’ ministry we begin to see the great reversal that his mission brings about. It is our first glimpse at the truth that he teaches: God’s love is not reserved for those at the top of the social ladder. God’s love flows through and over and around expected boundaries turning social order upside. It starts small and unremarkable, quietly but yet surprisingly, taking root and growing out, much like the mustard seed which grows wildly and expansively offering shelter to birds of all kinds. Let’s be clear, turning water into wine is not an unremarkable event, but it is something easily overlooked. An everyday miracle that begins to show the word how wildly and expansively God’s love grows.
This is the good news. It surprises us, exceeding our expectations and goes beyond what we thought possible. Maybe this is why we need this story at the beginning of Lent. By hearing the story now, before we enter the wilderness of life, before we face the temptation and our own frailties, we are reminded of who God is.
Sure, we still look out at the world and see what’s lacking in it, we still find ourselves urgently saying “they have no wine” because there are still those without food, without safety, without justice. We name the absence and we feel the ache of it. And we might even go as far as wondering when the hour might finally come, that Jesus will finally give us the miracle we’ve been waiting for.
The story of Jesus’ miracle at the wedding invites us to trust, to have faith that scarcity is not the final state of being. Remember the jars weren’t just filled, but filled to the brim. The wine wasn’t just meh, it was fine wine saved for the last. God’s generosity, God’s love, God’s desire isn’t hesitant, choosey or reluctant… it is surprising, it catches us off guard.
Maybe this Lent we need to be open to being caught off guard. Maybe we need to know that the season of Lent is rooted in love. As we begin this journey we can ground ourselves in the fact that God’s goodness will not run dry.
There is still more.
If nothing else today, I pray that you leave our time together holding on to these words: there is still more. More grace, more mercy, more joy than we expect or imagine. May these words, there is still more, be the mantra of your 40 days. There is still more – so when we see what is lacking, we might name it. When we see need, we might respond. And we remember that God is the source of a love so expansive and abundant, it catches us by surprise.
