Sayings of Jesus: “Do whatever he tells you”

Three “sayings of Jesus” blogs in a row! They do say good things come in threes. That’s not one of those crass Christian catchphrases this time, though, just plain old superstition! But yet again, this one is not strictly a saying of Jesus; it’s a saying of his mother, Mary. In fact, it’s the very last thing she’s quoted as saying in John’s Gospel, and it comes as early as chapter 2.

Are we to attribute any significance to this being the last thing Mary says? Protestants—evangelicals especially—have tended to understate the significance of anything to do with Mary; as a corrective, no doubt, to what we have traditionally regarded as those misguided Catholics’ over-veneration of her. Without making too much of its being her “final word” in the Gospel, it does seem to fit rather nicely as enduring advice to leave with us: “Do whatever Jesus tells you.”

The context for Mary’s last recorded statement is Jesus’ first recorded ‘sign’ (John uses the word ‘sign’ in the story, rather than ‘miracle’—which, as we will see, is important). And a somewhat extraordinary story it is, too.

Since it’s in John—which is a rather different kind of Gospel from the Synoptics—we are immediately on the lookout for spiritual truths and symbolism that tend to characterise his account. Sometimes, I think people can overdo that, seeing significance that isn’t really there. But in this case, I think we’re right to be looking for them (not least because the word ‘sign’ itself seems to be inviting it).

You may well know the story. In brief, there’s a wedding at nearby Cana, in Galilee. We’re told it happens “on the third day.” Is there any significance in this? Some have thought so—an allusion to the resurrection could fit, in relation to what we later see as potentially ‘signified’ (or, ‘signposted’) in the story—but there’s nothing clear and obvious. In any event, Mary is at the wedding, and Jesus and his disciples are also invited.

We are told nothing about their relation to the bride and groom. The focus of the story is almost entirely on the wine running out in verse 3 and what then happens as a result: Mary saying to Jesus, “They have no more wine.” Rather than this being a simple statement of fact, the implication is clear: “Do something, Jesus!” To which Jesus appears to respond rather reluctantly.

His question, “Woman, why do you involve me?” should not be heard as rude; it sounds rather brusque to modern ears, but the word translated ‘woman’ is a neutral term without negative associations. Which just goes to show that we shouldn’t just preach from how we hear the English words in our Bibles (as sadly some preachers do).

In any event, Mary says to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” Like any good Jewish boy, Jesus does as his mother asks, even though it seems at first that he does so slightly reluctantly: “My hour has not yet come.” Perhaps Jesus is mulling it over, quietly conversing with the Father. “This is what mum says … what do you say?”

As John’s Gospel unfolds, Jesus’ ‘hour’ will increasingly refer to the time of his death and glorification (John 12:23; 13:1; 17:1), so this may be seen as the first instance of a foreshadowing motif, right at the beginning of his ministry.

Why does Mary appear to feel some responsibility for responding to the wine running out? We’re not told. And what makes her think that Jesus can do something about it? Again, we’re not told. But to run out of wine, midway through what would have been a multi-day celebration, involving perhaps the whole village (a wedding was a massive social event), would have been deeply shameful for the groom and his family. Does God care about our shame? I think he does very much!  

Perhaps you already know that this is the event where Jesus “turns water into wine.” But it’s easy to gloss over some of the details that John offers us along the way. It’s possible to read too much in, for sure; but apparently superfluous features may be important.

Nearby, John tells us, are six stone jars, apparently empty or at least in need of filling. These are used for ceremonial washing—part of the Jewish purity system. Jesus tells the servants to fill them with water—the water that he then turns into wine.

And not just any wine: “choice wine”—“the best.” The master of the banquet is astonished because the usual practice, he says, is to serve the good wine first and the cheaper wine later. Here, the best has arrived last, and a lot of it: up to 700 litres or so, approaching 1,000 bottles.

Why six jars? Perhaps there's no intended significance. But the number six is sometimes associated with humanity—created on the sixth day—and falls one short of seven, the number of divine completeness. Might the need to be filled also be suggestive? Perhaps of humanity’s emptiness in the absence of a covenant relationship with God to fill the void? We certainly shouldn't build a doctrine on the idea, but as a detail within a story that John explicitly identifies as a ‘sign’, we’re at least allowed to wonder.

More speculatively still, might the purifying water symbolise Torah—the covenant charter for Jewish faith in the story of God? For the avoidance of doubt straight away, I am not suggesting that the empty jars be seen as implying that the Jewish covenant was itself empty or had run dry in some way. That kind of theological anti-Judaism that has been bequeathed to us from Reformed theology needs to be excised from contemporary evangelical thinking.

The wine doesn’t just appear out of nowhere—it begins as water. What’s happening is not a replacement; it’s a transformation—a morphing into something greater which embraces what came before (indeed, it’s the basis of it). In this analogy, Jesus’ actions are not replacing the Jewish covenant, still less are they denigrating it; the “water-that-turns-into-wine” is a transition in direct continuity with what chronologically came before. An already very good covenant relationship (in Torah) will become an even greater transcendent covenant relationship (in Christ)—not least because it will be extended to the nations, and sealed with the ultimate divine sacrifice.  

What are we to make of the apparent extravagance involved? Not just in terms of the quality of the wine but also the quantity? It should not be read as authorising over-indulgence and drunkenness. We have no idea how many wedding guests there were (perhaps the whole town), or how early in the proceedings the wine had run out, or why. But there is surely something to take note of about the nature and character of a generous God wanting to bless people extravagantly. Many evangelicals are not used to thinking of God like that.

Surely it is also significant that the event should be a wedding, foreshadowing the messianic wedding banquet at the end of the age. For John's biblically literate audience, the combination of a banquet and an extraordinary abundance of fine wine would have had resonances. Amos 9:13: “‘The days are coming,’ declares the Lord, ‘when… new wine will drip from the mountains and flow from all the hills.’” Similarly, Joel 3:18: “In that day the mountains will drip new wine…” And especially, Isaiah 25:6: “On this mountain the Lord Almighty will prepare a feast of rich food for all peoples, a banquet of aged wine—the best of meats and the finest of wines.”  

In the very next chapter, John the Baptist identifies Jesus as the bridegroom, and himself as (merely) the bridegroom’s friend. The ‘sign’ at Cana is pointing to the heavenly kingdom to come and its nature.

Ironically, when the master tastes the new wine, he credits the bridegroom for it. Perhaps Jesus has quietly made sure that the potentially shamed bridegroom can take the credit; if so, how very Jesus-like!

In the messianic banquet, of course, Jesus is the bridegroom who provides the wine.

If we widen our scope beyond John’s Gospel, it’s hard not to be reminded of the Last Supper as the Synoptics describe it—an event that also foreshadows the future kingdom. There’s a covenantal connection there, too. In Matthew, Jesus says, “Drink from [this cup of wine], all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will not drink from this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.”

Whatever else the coming kingdom looks like, Jesus seems to picture it as a huge celebration in which he himself will be joining in . . . and enjoying its fine wine with us. In the meantime, join in with the Catholics and, as Mary says, “Do whatever Jesus tells you”!