The Best Comes Last

The search committee heard me preach about eating vegetables. They are going to wonder if all of my sermons revolve around vegetables. Because I begin today by telling you that as a child I could not stand glazed carrots. This is not the most important thing you need to know about me. But it was, believe it or not, this morning’s gospel that brought glazed carrots to mind. As a girl if it happened to be one of those nights when I found glazed carrots on my plate at supper time, my particular strategy would be to take a deep breath, make sure lots of milk was near at hand, and eat the carrots before anything else as quickly as possible. I would save the better things, the foods that I liked best, for last. Other people have different philosophical approaches to supper and life. Some begin with the most delectable items and put off as long as possible the less pleasant things. I’ve seen others who make every meal a stew by mixing and stirring everything together. And there are also folk who methodically, meticulously, work their way around the plate taking one bite from each item in sequence.

I don’t know that any of these styles is better than another as a metaphor for us as we face the choices and activities of our lives. But it is interesting to note a theological point made clear in today’s gospel from John. The writer of John goes to some trouble to stress that, not only did Jesus turn water into wine; it was good wine, the best wine. The steward at the wedding feast (who does not know what Jesus has done) is not surprised that more wine appears at the wedding, but he is very much surprised that it is better wine than that which was served first. The best comes last. We certainly may encounter God at any time in our lives, first, in the middle, mixed in among other things… but in terms of what Jesus offers us, Jesus offers the best last.

There are several opinions about the fundamental, overarching meaning of this gospel story from John—this familiar story about Jesus changing the water into wine at the wedding in Cana of Galilee. John’s gospel is full of symbolism and different scholars have found different meanings in those symbols. For us Episcopalians the story is in our lectionary on this Second Sunday after the Epiphany because it is a story about God being made known in the person of Jesus Christ. That is what epiphany means… God being made known or recognized. Seeing God where we did not see God before. For the crafters of our Sunday lectionary, the "point" of this story is an epiphany, the manifestation of God’s glory in Jesus at the wedding in Cana.

But listen to one Episcopal commentator’s perspective on that Epiphany meaning. As a miracle story intended to establish the credentials of a new god or hero, he writes, the story of Jesus at the wedding at Cana is a fizzle. The narrator does not even indicate that the guests had become aware of this domestic crisis (running out of wine), let alone that a miracle had then given them more wine than a cohort of soldiers could imbibe (roughly 150 gallons). To whom did Jesus reveal his glory? The guests are oblivious. And what does the statement that his disciples "believed" in him mean? They were his disciples; had they not believed in him previously? (Richard I. Pervo, Proclamation 6, Series C)

As an Epiphany story, as a story that reveals God’s presence or God’s power in Jesus, the wedding at Cana is a fizzle. The real point of these verses from John, according to this writer, is to make this theological point: "Contrary to ancient expectations, the best comes last." The best comes last. Why else does the steward even appear in the story if not to make this point? The steward does not proclaim Jesus’ divine, miraculous transformation of water into wine. The focus is on the quality of the wine. And on the astounding fact that the better quality wine has been served last.

Contrary to ancient expectations, the best comes last. That the best might come later or last was indeed contrary to the sense the early Hebrew people had of themselves and of their relationship with God. The focal point of their communal and liturgical life centered around remembering. Remembering the best that had been. Remembering God’s mighty deeds done on their behalf—in the past. The ancient creed of Israel, repeated in their liturgy in the same way that we repeat the Nicene Creed—as an affirmation of identity—the ancient creed began: "A wandering Aramean was my ancestor; he went down into Egypt and lived there as an alien, few in number, and there he became a great nation, mighty and populous. When the Egyptians treated us harshly and afflicted us, by imposing hard labor on us, we cried to the Lord, the God of our ancestors; the Lord heard our voice and saw our affliction, our toil, and our oppression. The Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with a terrifying display of power, and with signs and wonders; and he brought us into this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey…" (Deuteronomy 26:5b-9) The story of the Exodus is immensely important. It is a strong and holy foundation, without which the Hebrew community and ultimately the Body of Christ would never have been built. But to repeat it as a liturgical statement of identity is to say that the best has already been.

Into that context comes Jesus at the wedding in Cana of Galilee. Proclaiming, by his actions, that, contrary to ancient expectations, the best comes last.

Those ancient expectations are also modern expectations. It is not just the ancient Hebrew people who often look for the best in the past. It is also contrary to our expectations to look for the best amid the unknown future of that which is yet to come.

So Jesus’ proclamation is very important to us as Christians today. By his actions, he says to us, "The best is yet to come. The wine which you thought was the best your host, your life, could offer will be followed by wine better beyond your imagining. Jars which you expect to hold water, jars that have always held water in the past, will now be filled with wine." Wine was a symbol of revelation and inspiration. These are what lie ahead. Revelation, new revelation, of God’s presence with us in our lives. Future epiphanies for us. And inspiration. Divine inspiration. These are Jesus’ promise to us of what is to come. Contrary to all expectation, the best comes last.

This is the message of Jesus’ first miracle at that wedding in Cana of Galilee at the very beginning of his public ministry. It is also, of course, the message of the end of Jesus’ life. No past expectations could have imagined the ending of Jesus’ public ministry. As much as Jesus’ followers undoubtedly cherished the miracles, the teaching, the healing, he had offered them, nothing that had gone before could compare with the resurrection. The best comes last.

I would not go so far as to say that God "saves the best for last." I do not believe that God "saves" or withholds goodness just so that we can receive it later. Nor does God demand that we tackle nasty or difficult things in life (like glazed carrots) before we can earn or acquire God’s blessing. Jesus’ message is a much simpler one. It is a message of hope. Jesus’ assures us that we always have something to look forward to. Always. No matter where we are in life… inspiration, revelation and the nearer presence of God always lie ahead. In the midst of unimaginable darkness or despair, God offers resurrection of spirit. In the midst of rich joy and abundance, God reveals new paths of insight and creativity. No matter how we may be spending the present time, we yet have the opportunity to become God’s own… cherished as the Body of Christ, serving as the Body of Christ. No matter what we have done in the past, forgiveness and new life lie ahead.

Listen to our liturgy as we gather as a community of faith, the words of our prayers and our praise and our creeds said in worship. In those words we will never cease to remember and give thanks for all that God has done for us. Yet even more importantly, we also affirm our hope, our belief, our conviction, our faith… that what God will do for us is even better.

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