Kin-dom Come: Finding Abundance in the Face of Scarcity

Sermon 1 on the economy of Jesus

John 2:1-11

When they started running low on wine at the wedding banquet, Jesus’ mother told him, “They’re just about out of wine.” Jesus said, “Is that any of our business, Mother—yours or mine? This isn’t my time. Don’t push me.”

Twenty minutes before the wedding, the caterer had not arrived. The band was setting up in the otherwise empty reception hall, and only champagne on ice and cupcakes had arrived, but no food. The couple had stretched their resources for the wedding. She worked as a paralegal, and he was a produce manager. They were involved in all the local musicals and stalwarts in our choir. Their friends were actors and musicians, and they had a marvelous party planned. But where was the food?

Fortunately, the couple was blissfully unaware of the problem. We had a beautiful wedding ceremony, but I was holding the tension about the reception. After the "I do's" rings and the big kiss, I went to the hall while people entered the receiving line. It was still empty. The bride's grandmother told me she would pay for food if we could find something, so I was at the end of the receiving line to deliver the news. As I moved from congratulations to "your caterer did not show up," I watched the bride’s jaw drop and a tear formed in the corner of her eye. But then she softened as she looked at her now husband. She threw her arms around him and said, "It doesn't matter as long as I'm with Steven."

While their love relieved and touched me, I wanted to make this right. So, I told them their grandmother and I would take care of it. I told the band to play, and the DJ could start with all the various first dances, the mother/son dance, father/daughter dance, Grandmother/ Grandson, second cousin of the bride dance, make stuff up to keep people occupied while I forage them something to eat.

I rushed into the State Street deli, my local favorite, explained the situation, and asked if they could do sandwich platters, the macaroni salad with artichoke hearts, and Polish potato salad for 60 people ASAP. As caterers, they took to heart the moral failure of their tribe and pulled all the staff to make sandwiches. Twenty minutes later, I was at the counter with a mountain of plastic trays of turkey, ham, and tuna sandwiches. They rushed me past the ten people in line, explained that the caterer had not shown up at the wedding, and people got out of line to help me load the car.

Jeanne and I arrived with the platters just as the mother-of-the-groom/oldest-male-cousin dance ended, and people applauded. At that point, the absence of prime rib did not matter. A pastrami on rye felt like a miracle. A community came together because this love needed to be celebrated.

This story is where my mind goes when I read about the wine running out at the wedding in Cana. Everyone wants their wedding to be remembered as a time of joy and abundance, not as if the family lacked planning or was cheap. Good food and drink are essential to celebration. Wine also has deep symbolic meaning in scripture. Amos speaks of the hope for restoration after hard times, saying, "The mountains shall drip sweet wine, and all the hills shall flow with it." In the parable, Jesus compares his message to wine, saying that new wine must go into new wineskins. It will ferment and burst the old skins. The symbol of wine in communion as a sign of the new covenant is central to our faith. John is telling us the very first act of Jesus after baptism is this wedding where there is not enough wine. He is foreshadowing that Jesus is the one who will re-supply joy and grace to all people. This sign is John's first of seven signs about who Jesus is. He is the light of the world, the living water, the bread of life, and the true vine.

But first, there is a conversation with his mother, Mary. She says to Jesus, "They have no wine." Grammatically, these words are a simple statement of fact. It is not an imperative, just a mother telling her son the wine is out. However, many know from experience that indirect communication between parents and children carries more weight than what is said. "Look at the dirty dishes in the sink." It may not be a command, but to answer, "You are so right, Mother, there are a lot of dirty dishes," is the wrong response. Take the hint and get to work.

Jesus, being intuitive, immediately understands the nudge to obligation. "Woman, what concern is that to me and to you? My time is not yet come." The message translation says, "Is that any of our business, Mother—yours or mine?"

What is at stake in this conversation? It seems to be about social obligation. Cana was a small town about a two to three-hour walk from Nazareth. A wedding in a small village would be a significant social event, and people would celebrate for several days. Running out of wine would be a damper the whole town would feel. We don't know whose wedding this was, but perhaps family friends or distant cousins to Jesus. Jesus' response is, "Why us? This isn't our obligation." Isn’t this the father of the bride's responsibility? Don't they have closer kin to bail them out? Jesus doesn’t think they are close enough kin to be obligated.

Mary doesn't bother to argue and tells the servants to do whatever Jesus says. This version of Mary is no longer quietly pondering things in her heart. She has raised five teenagers and expects them to know how to act. The bride and groom might not be direct kin, but they are human beings in a tight spot and need help.

Remember when Jesus said, "Love your neighbor as yourself," and a scribe asks, "Who is my neighbor?" Jesus then tells the story of the good Samaritan, to illustrate that anyone in need is your neighbor. Maybe Jesus learned that lesson from Mary in Cana. At the heart of the Gospel, there is a stretching of kinship ties and obligations to family and tribe, to include a wider community. Kinship is not just about immediate relatives, we are all from the same human family, we all share DNA, we are in this together. This is why Christianity could transcend one nation and culture and spread.

The word kin is used in an interesting way in our liturgy. In the song, "Abundance" the lyrics use the phrase "kin-dom" where we might expect "kingdom." Drop the "g" and put in a dash, and you get kin-dom. Ruth Duck, the prolific hymn writer we celebrated last week, was an early advocate of using kin-dom in liturgy.

You have sung and prayed, "thy kingdom come" for years, so it sounds natural. But would you be comfortable bowing to a king? We celebrate every July 4^th that we overthrew a king and established one nation under God, with liberty and justice for all. It is odd we keep using the word king so much in worship, when we are against the idea in real life. It sends an unintended message that we affirm an older hierarchical order, rather than seeing each other as equal before God.

What shifts in your heart and mind when you say kin-dom, instead of kingdom? What I notice is a movement away from focusing on a political structure, hierarchy and power, towards relational ties, equality and community. I feel more included in a kin-dom than a kingdom. It makes me responsible for the community, not relying on someone else to form it. One good thing about kin-dom in the liturgy is that no one will know which word you are saying in church. But I urge you to test it for yourself. At the bell choir party, Jamie said she moves people to different bells, so they learn to be flexible, and it is also good for your brain. This change is not always popular with the bell choir. But we have a very good bell choir. A little change is good for the brain and good for the soul.

At the end of the story Jesus tells the servants to fill six stone jars with water which become wine. When the master of the banquet tastes it, he remarks, “Complex and full-bodied, with a hint of black current. The finish lingers like a fine conversation. You have saved the best wine for last.” What if everyone knew the wine was made in the stone jars set aside for water of ritual cleansing? Some would have been horrified at the sacrilege. But Jesus first miracle lifts something more important than ritual observance and perfection.

The great wedding feast has begun. Just as the deli workers, the band, and the guests came together to transform a moment of scarcity into joy, Jesus invites us to join in his kin-dom, where we share in the abundance of grace and love. This miracle wasn't just about wine—it was about abundance, joy, and the expanding circle of God's kin-dom, where no one is left out.

Today, we are called to do the same. To stretch our sense of kinship, to see neighbors not as strangers but as family, and to bring joy and grace to a world so often focused on scarcity.