Chapter 4 John 2:1–11

Literary Context

The careful and lengthy introduction to Jesus by means of a prologue (1:1–18) and a two-pericope introduction to the narrative proper (1:19–51), along with the careful articulation of the completion of the first “week” of the ministry of Jesus, has emphasized that in the person of Jesus the Creator is now with his creation. The focus can now transition to the work of God in the world. This pericope is the first recorded work. This first work serves as a “sign” to the unseen realities also at work and to that which the work will ultimately accomplish.

III. The Beginning of Jesus’s Public Ministry (2:1–4:54)
1. A. The First Sign: The Wedding at Cana (2:1–11)
2. B. The Cleansing of the Temple: The Promise of the Seventh Sign (2:12–25)
3. C. Nicodemus, New Birth, and the Unique Son (3:1–21)
4. D. The Baptist, the True Bridegroom, and the Friend of the Bridegroom (3:22–36)
5. E. The Samaritan Woman, Living Water, and True Worshippers (4:1–42)
6. F. The Second Sign: The Healing of the Royal Official’s Son (4:43–54)

Main Idea

The arrival of Jesus transforms the world and all its activities. During a wedding celebration, Jesus transposes the purposes and plans of humanity with the will and wisdom of the Father, and, with a reversal of grace, transforms a failing celebration into the celebration of the wedding of God. Jesus, the faithful Son and true bridegroom, is making preparations for his bride, the Church.

Translation

Structure and Literary Form

Unlike the previous pericopae, which serve as the introduction to the narrative proper and have unique structural designators, this is the first pericope in the Gospel that corresponds to the basic story form (see Introduction). The introduction/setting is established in vv. 1–3. The conflict is quickly presented in v. 4, with the response of Jesus creating the climactic moment of the pericope. The resolution is provided in vv. 5–8, including the response to and aftermath of Jesus’s statement. Finally, the conclusion/interpretation is provided in vv. 9–11 and serves to explain the result of the activities, with v. 11 offering a closing summary regarding the meaning of the pericope and its relation to the rest of the Gospel.

Exegetical Outline

A. The First Sign: The Wedding at Cana (2:1–11)
1. 1. Invitation to a Wedding in Cana (vv. 1–3)
2. 2. Jesus, his Mother, and a Shortage of Wine (v. 4)
3. 3. From Purification Water to Celebratory Wine (vv. 5–8)
4. 4. The First Sign of Jesus’s Glory (vv. 9–11)

Explanation of the Text

Although the Gospel of John begins with a prologue which serves to guide and direct the reader, at the level of the narrative’s development the entire first chapter (1:1–51) has functioned as an introduction to the Gospel and to Jesus. This introduction explained the context into which Jesus entered, the witness provided for him by the Baptist, and his functional identity as the revelation of God. Paralleling the creative work of God at creation, God was now present with his people, creatively and powerfully at work in the world. The entire first chapter of the Gospel has projected the creative “first week” of the Creator as he enters his creation.

In Depth: Jesus’s First Week

A directional clue matching this creation theme is suggested in the narrative itself 1 as the evangelist appears to structure the opening to the narrative proper by designating certain days. While John does not stress the collective nature of the days, they might be taken to refer to the first full week of the ministry of Jesus. The structure of days appears to be the following:

DAY 1: 1:19–28
DAY 2: 1:29–34 (“on the next day”)
DAY 3: 1:35–42 (“on the next day”)
DAY 4: 1:43–51 (“on the next day”)
DAY 6: 2:1–11 (“on the third day,” i.e., two days later)

We have already explored the significance of the designations of “day” as they appeared in the narrative. As we approach the last occurrence, however, it is necessary to surmise the intention of the “week” displayed throughout the first three pericopae of the narrative proper. We argued above that the refraction of Genesis 1:1–5 in 1:1–5, as well as the developing new creation motif established throughout the prologue (see comments on 1:17), implies that the “week” in 1:19–2:11 is to be seen as parallel to the creation week, which also took six days! Several commentators have minimized the “week” imagery because it is six, not seven, days. Usually, then, the “days” merely serve to progress the narrative through the natural historical circumstances. Warnings about symbolic parallels must be heeded, for clearly an arbitrary connection cannot be allowed. However, John certainly intended to communicate by means of the six days. Other commentators who try to extend the six days to seven in order to get a true “week” fail to do justice to the narrative details. The days can only be counted as six days.2

The strong connection to Genesis, and specifically to creation, thus far in the Gospel suggests that the first six days of Jesus’s ministry are to be seen as parallel to the first six days of creation. Jesus, the one through whom all things were created and by whom new creation takes place, is beginning his creative activity in human history. In a very real way, the first six days of the work of Jesus at the beginning of his ministry are equivalent in nature and force to the first six days of the work of God at the beginning of time. This is not the time for rest (day seven); it is the time for work. The symbolic significance need not be carried too far, with every detail serving as a direct and corresponding allusion. The importance is not that there is a perfect match point for point but that the allusion and its differences express something (cf. 1:51).3 Just as John has retold creation in light of Jesus and made him the pinnacle of the act of creation, so also has John taken man, the one made in God’s image on the sixth day of creation, and retold the creation story in light of Jesus and made Jesus the pinnacle of creation.

The creation of man was literally renewed at the incarnation—in Jesus, the Word-become-flesh (1:14). Jesus is the image of God, the true revealer of the Father (1:18). The focus of John is on the sixth day, the creation of the God-man; the remainder of the Gospel is focused on the sixth day of creation, awaiting the seventh day, the day of rest, to arrive. Although he is announced to the reader in 1:14 and through the imagery of the six-day “week,” he will only partially be introduced to the world until he is officially introduced in 19:5, when the world—Rome (i.e., Pilate)—declares: “Behold, the man!” This is the sixth day, when the image of God is made known to his creation. But he is not ruling over his creation, even though he is dressed like a king (19:2–3). For they have yet to see what Nathanael and the other disciples (and the reader) have been told, that he is no mere man but is in fact the “Son of Man” (1:51).

2:1 On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there (Καὶ τῇ ἡμέρᾳ τῇ τρίτῃ γάμος ἐγένετο ἐν Κανὰ τῆς Γαλιλαίας, καὶ ἦν ἡ μήτηρ τοῦ Ἰησοῦ ἐκεῖ). The narrator introduces the scene by informing the reader of a wedding that was taking place in Cana of Galilee (on the significance of “the third day,” see the sidebar “Jesus’s First Week”). The favored location is Khirbet Qana, which is located about nine miles north of Nazareth (Josephus, Life 86.207).4 Though some try to deduce a symbolic significance in Cana, the only significance that can be deduced is that it serves as a narrative place marker, since the first section of the Gospel story begins and ends in Cana (cf. 4:43–45, 54). It is not Cana but “a wedding” that is most determinative for the context of the pericope. It is interesting that the scene is set without Jesus being mentioned; the only character mentioned is the mother of Jesus. Her identity, however, is entirely defined by Jesus: “the mother of Jesus” (ἡ μήτηρ τοῦ Ἰησοῦ). She is never named in the Gospel.

2:2 And Jesus and his disciples were also invited to the wedding (ἐκλήθη δὲ καὶ ὁ Ἰησοῦς καὶ οἱ μαθηταὶ αὐτοῦ εἰς τὸν γάμον). The narrator adds that Jesus and his disciples were also invited to the wedding. Based upon chapter 1, the disciples accompanying Jesus are probably the five already mentioned: Andrew, Simon Peter, Philip, Nathanael, and the anonymous disciple (1:35). There is no mention in the Gospel of the arrival of other disciples, though by 6:67 the narrator can speak of “the Twelve” without giving any indication when and from where the other seven came. That Jesus, his mother, and Jesus’s disciples were all invited to the wedding suggests the wedding was for a relative or close friend of the family, especially since Jesus’s mother bears some responsibility for the shortage of wine at the wedding (v. 3). It might also be significant that one of the disciples, Nathanael, originated from Cana (cf. 21:2).

Several aspects of first-century wedding ceremonies are assumed in this statement and need explanation. Wedding ceremonies were always accompanied by celebratory feasts and were important in Jewish culture. The importance of wedding celebrations caused many rabbis to excuse a wedding party from conflicting religious festival obligations.5 According to the custom, wedding celebrations normally lasted seven days. The guests in attendance were usually connected in a social manner. For example, depending on the wealth of the family, entire towns could be invited. Even more, people who disliked the wedding family would be obliged to attend the wedding, since refusing to attend was socially inappropriate. This makes an invited person, like Jesus, difficult to define in relation to the wedding family. And since it was common for a scholar to be invited to a wedding, it is also possible that Jesus’s invitation was connected to his growing recognition as a public teacher. This might also explain the attendance of his disciples, since they would have been included with their teacher.6

2:3 When the wine was gone, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no more wine” (καὶ ὑστερήσαντος οἴνου λέγει ἡ μήτηρ τοῦ Ἰησοῦ πρὸς αὐτόν, Οἶνον οὐκ ἔχουσιν). After being introduced to the characters in vv. 1–2, we are now being prepared for the source of the conflict: the wedding celebration is running out of wine. Although wine was a standard part of daily life in the ancient Mediterranean world, Jewish literature makes clear that wine was an important part of festive occasions, especially at weddings.7 Since weddings in the first century were not about two people but about two families, the social dynamics were more comprehensive and intense. For this reason, to run out of wine during the wedding celebration was likely to have caused a loss of family honor and status.8 The anarthrous “wine” (οἴνου) might suggest that the wine was entirely gone, rather than just running out. Thus, the situation is dire.

The lack of wine at the wedding is connected to the mother of Jesus. The narrative not only gives no indication regarding the reason Jesus’s mother is involved, it also does not explain what options she had besides turning to Jesus. Various proposals have been offered for her connection to the wedding ceremony (e.g., a relative of the family) and her reason for going to Jesus (e.g., it was the oldest son’s responsibility in the absence/death of Joseph). None, however, are anything but conjecture, and several go well beyond any reasonable reconstruction. Although it is impossible to reconstruct his mother’s intentions, the narrative’s grammar might indicate that rather than commanding Jesus, she appears to be softly telling Jesus of the celebration’s plight in the hope that he might intervene.9 It is worth reiterating, however, that the narrative has not made the mother of Jesus the point of the story. Her lack of a name is itself support of this. However the plot’s conflict arrived at the feet of Jesus, it is there now.

2:4 Jesus said to her, “What does this have to do with me, woman? My hour has not yet come” ([καὶ] λέγει αὐτῇ ὁ Ἰησοῦς, Τί ἐμοὶ καὶ σοί, γύναι; οὔπω ἥκει ἡ ὥρα μου). Jesus’s response to his mother’s statement has long plagued interpreters. The confusion is usually compounded by the reconstructed intention behind his mother’s actions. But v. 3 only seems to posit that Jesus’s mother merely presented the problem respectfully before her son, with only cultural expectations prodding some sort of response.10 It is in light of this enigmatic exchange that we turn to the response of Jesus. In order to explore the meaning of this verse, there are three exegetical difficulties that need to be explained.

First, the use of “woman” (γύναι) by Jesus to address his mother. In our contemporary context, the term seems harsh or disrespectful. BDAG, for example, lists this occurrence as an example of a rare but possible use in which there is “a tone of disrespect” (cf. Matt 15:28; Luke 22:57), but the term is generally not disrespectful but respectful, even affectionate, meaning something like “ma’am” today.11 Much of this depends on Jesus’s intention. The term is never addressed to a mother by a son in all known Greek or Jewish literature, so there is no known context from which to compare its use here. It would be easy to understand the term as imposing a severe separation between Jesus and his mother if it were not for Jesus’s use of the term toward his mother from the cross at a moment filled with empathy and love (see 19:26). However, the term’s normal use demands that it be seen to function at least minimally as a distancing mechanism, even if it is enveloped—more clearly in 19:26 and possibly even in 2:4—within a healthy and loving relationship between mother and son. The fact that the narrator uses “mother” three times in 2:1–11 (four if we included v. 12) suggests that Jesus’s use of “woman” be viewed as significant to the narrative’s presentation.12 This choice of word must be drawing attention away from her blood relationship with Jesus. This need not be a distancing that denies the mother her son but locates it in the larger context of a much greater and more foundational relationship between the unique Son and the Father. The unseen forces that the prologue has already revealed explain that Jesus’s relationship to his mother is not entirely defined by cultural norms. This very word, without excluding a respectful response to his mother, portrays Jesus as a step beyond, all the while not being indifferent.

Second, the ambiguous idiom: “What does this have to do with me?” (τί ἐμοὶ καὶ σοί). Jesus responds to his mother with a peculiar idiom that rigidly translates the dative construction as “what to me and to you?” This Greek phrase is an idiomatic expression found in the OT (Josh 22:24; 2 Sam 16:10; 1 Kgs 17:18; 2 Kgs 3:13) as well as in the NT, though in the latter it is always used by demons to Jesus (Matt 8:29; Mark 1:24; 5:7; Luke 4:34; 8:28). What can be clearly determined from the use of the idiom’s range of uses is that it is intending to serve as a distancing response by one party to a request or expectation from another party.13 The level of distancing can range from hostility to simple disengagement with even the latter carrying some degree of reproach, all of which depend on the nuances of the context and even the tone of voice.14 Along this spectrum, the response from Jesus in this scene is almost certainly in the range of simple disengagement. Jesus’s response serves as a nuanced form of refusal intending to communicate a divergent view.15 While the next statement explains the reason for Jesus’s divergence (the “hour”), v. 5 suggests that the refusal was neither entirely hostile nor received in an entirely negative manner by Jesus’s mother. We must consider the reason for Jesus’s coming as an explanatory context for this scene (see 3:16). As much as his plans (to be explained below) differ from his mother’s, Jesus—the very expression of the love of God—would certainly be able to incorporate into his mission to the world the situation of the people (especially his mother) with whom he now dwells.

Third, the important concluding statement: “My hour has not yet come” (οὔπω ἥκει ἡ ὥρα μου). In many ways, the entire difficulty of the verse rests with this final statement. The meaning of this concluding statement is bound up with the meaning of the term “my hour” (ἡ ὥρα μου).

By declaring to his mother that it was not “the hour,” Jesus does not claim an inability to act but an inability to act in a full way. While the great moment he had been called to had not fully arrived, it had, by his very presence, already begun. This is the distance Jesus forces between his mother and himself. His plan, his agenda, had already been determined. In fact, the very reason Jesus could (and did!) respond to his mother’s implied request was because he could do something. What he had come to do had begun, and it was starting to show forth. The narrative does not reveal to us if his mother knew this, but we find out that Jesus would act in a manner fully consistent with his mission yet to come. What appears to be the acquiescence of a first-century son to his mother was more accurately the response of the “unique Son” to the Father. The cosmological plot has made certain that we not only see the distance but also understand it. Our cautious reconstruction of the intentions of Jesus and his mother in this difficult verse has left us with a beautiful Johannine irony: although his mother wanted the wedding to reach its end without embarrassment, Jesus, thinking of a much grander wedding feast, knew that embarrassment (the cross) is required for it to reach its ultimate conclusion.

2:5 His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you” (λέγει ἡ μήτηρ αὐτοῦ τοῖς διακόνοις, Ὅ τι ἂν λέγῃ ὑμῖν ποιήσατε). The response of Jesus’s mother suggests that Jesus’s refusal was neither entirely hostile nor was received in an entirely negative manner. Jesus’s statement in v. 4 is best viewed as a distancing response, not a rebuke or even a rejection. As much as the statement of Jesus transforms the meaning and significance of the immediate wedding crisis, the person of Jesus remains constant enough for his mother to assume he will respond to her need. It would not be a stretch to assume that Jesus’s person emitted the very essence of grace and love, something especially noticed by his mother. She may not have known what he would do, as the grammar suggests (the verb is in the subjunctive mood), but she does assume he will do something. The response of the Son of Man to a man-made dilemma was both distancing yet embracing. The mother of Jesus, even if not fully understanding the cosmological vision and mission of her son, had come to understand his vision for those around him. His ultimate submission to the will of the Father does not negate his concern for his siblings (1:12). The narrative depicts with great detail the ability of the Word to “dwell” with his creation and yet to remain the God of creation.

2:6 And there were in that place six stone water jars, placed there for the Jewish purification, each holding twenty to thirty gallons (ἦσαν δὲ ἐκεῖ λίθιναι ὑδρίαι ἓξ κατὰ τὸν καθαρισμὸν τῶν Ἰουδαίων κείμεναι, χωροῦσαι ἀνὰ μετρητὰς δύο ἢ τρεῖς). The narrator, pulling back from the focused discussion, gives a fuller picture of the scene by mentioning that conveniently located nearby were six jars of water. There are two important details regarding these water jars. First, they were made from “stone” (λίθιναι). Clay water jars that had not been fired in a kiln could become unclean, and when this occurred it was required that they be destroyed (Lev 11:33). Stone water jars, however, did not become unclean (m. Kelim 10:1). Second, they were “placed there for the Jewish ceremonial purification” (κατὰ τὸν καθαρισμὸν τῶν Ἰουδαίων κείμεναι). The “tradition of the elders” held that the Jews were not to eat until they gave their hands a ceremonial washing (Mark 7:3–4). This tradition involved the servants pouring water over the hands of every guest before the meal. The larger the number of guests, the larger the amount of water needed.

While the previous scene was dominated by an awkward situation, this scene is filled with wonderful coincidences. The jars are both permanently clean and intimately tied to purification. Yet they become useful for what would initially be taken as an entirely different purpose: as wine jars. The vessels used to contain the requirements for purification were now to contain celebratory drink. The relation between purity and celebration find an uncanny connection to the person and work of Jesus. The stated crisis at this wedding is being refracted to envisage the greater crisis—and both find their solution in this one act of Jesus. This wedding in Cana, this need for wine, and this moment in time simultaneously reflect something much greater and more important. To take the symbols (e.g., the six water pots) too rigidly misses the intersection of the cosmological and historical strands of the plot so central to the deep structure of the Gospel’s narrative.17 At one and the same time, Jesus was providing a way out.

2:7 Jesus said to them, “Fill the water pots with water.” And they filled them to the brim (λέγει αὐτοῖς ὁ Ἰησοῦς, Γεμίσατε τὰς ὑδρίας ὕδατος. καὶ ἐγέμισαν αὐτὰς ἕως ἄνω). The story returns to Jesus, who gives directions to the servants regarding the six water pots nearby. Relating well with what we argued above, this verse makes clear that v. 4 cannot be taken as a pure refusal to act. Interestingly, the narrative only emphasizes the amount of water the servants were ordered to pour: “To the brim” (ἕως ἄνω). Nothing about the transfer from water to wine is mentioned. “The reader knows, without being told in so many words, that the water—and in such quantities!—has been changed into wine.”18 The moment of transformation from water to wine is avoided because it is eclipsed by a much greater transformation. The imagery is just too potent. In the presence of Jesus, a collection of pure (stone) water jars for the ceremonial washing of many people serves to herald the fulfillment (“to the brim”) of the entire ceremonial purification of Second Temple Judaism. In the person and work of Jesus, the purification jars and their water become useless, only suitable to contain celebratory wine.

2:8 Then he said to them, “Now draw some out and bring it to the master of the banquet.” And they brought it to him (καὶ λέγει αὐτοῖς, Ἀντλήσατε νῦν καὶ φέρετε τῷ ἀρχιτρικλίνῳ· οἱ δὲ ἤνεγκαν). The use of the word “draw out” (ἀντλήσατε) is awkward since it is normally used to refer to drawing water from a well and not from a jar or vessel (cf. 4:7, 15). The awkward word serves to emphasize that the water of purification is “now” (νῦν) something to drink. The implication is far reaching: true purification is no longer in reference to external things (e.g., hands and pots) but is entirely internal. And the source of purification is not from the tradition of the elders but “from God” (1:13). The Christian life according to John is drinking and eating what Jesus provides (cf. 6:51–58).

Jesus ordered the servants to bring the wine to the master of the banquet. The “master of the banquet” (ἀρχιτρίκλινος) was almost certainly not a servant, as in the chief servant, but was probably one of the invited guests, selected to oversee and preside over the celebration. This was common to both Greeks and Jews.19 This command from Jesus could be understood to serve two purposes. First, to announce that the wine once lacking is now in abundance. The celebration may continue without embarrassment. Second, to get approval of the new wine from the master of the banquet, who was the person in charge of not merely the supply but also the quality of the drink and effects of the drink for the purpose of regulation. Although the reader is aware that the purification water is now wine, it was time for the master of the banquet, and thereafter the crowd, to be served this new wine.

2:9 And when the master of the banquet tasted the water that had been turned into wine, he did not know from where it had come, though the servants who had drawn the water knew. Then he called for the bridegroom (ὡς δὲ ἐγεύσατο ὁ ἀρχιτρίκλινος τὸ ὕδωρ οἶνον γεγενημένον, καὶ οὐκ ᾔδει πόθεν ἐστίν, οἱ δὲ διάκονοι ᾔδεισαν οἱ ἠντληκότες τὸ ὕδωρ, φωνεῖ τὸν νυμφίον ὁ ἀρχιτρίκλινος). This verse begins the scene of the pericope in which the story is brought to its conclusion and the interpretation of the story is provided (vv. 9–11). After the servants brought the wine, following the orders of Jesus, the master of the banquet was obviously surprised in regard to the wine. He “did not know from where” (οὐκ ᾔδει πόθεν) it had come. The question regarding the origin of the wine is primarily because of its quality, as v. 10 reveals.

It is ironic that the master of the banquet, the person who should have the most knowledge of and authority over the wine for the wedding, knew less than the servants. The surprise caused the master of the banquet to call for the bridegroom. The two characters so central to the actual wedding are made only secondary in this story.20 The pericope has reversed who is important at the wedding; rather than involving from the start the master of the banquet and the bridegroom, the narrative began immediately with Jesus. The reversal is stark. What was unknown to the characters themselves is that at this wedding Jesus was ultimately fulfilling the role of the master of the banquet and the bridegroom (v. 10).21 The image is loaded with significance of the wedding par excellence and the new wine to be served to the wedding party of the true bridegroom (Rev 19:7–9).

2:10 And he said, “Everyone brings out the good wine first and then the cheaper wine after the guests have had too much to drink, but you have kept the good wine until now (καὶ λέγει αὐτῷ, Πᾶς ἄνθρωπος πρῶτον τὸν καλὸν οἶνον τίθησιν, καὶ ὅταν μεθυσθῶσιν τὸν ἐλάσσω· σὺ τετήρηκας τὸν καλὸν οἶνον ἕως ἄρτι). The final statement by a character in the story is made by the master of the banquet to the bridegroom and is intended to express the meaning and significance of the entire pericope. As in other Gospel stories, the greatness of what happened is emphasized by a demonstration of acclamation by the public.22

The statement by the master of the banquet is one of surprise regarding what he claims is the reversal of a customary practice. According to the master of the banquet, the best wine is served first, followed by the cheaper wine, assumingly once the palate has become numb to the lessening quality.23 A powerful implication is suggested when the master of the banquet gives the bridegroom credit for what Jesus has done. Such an ironic depiction demands that Jesus be seen as fulfilling the role of the bridegroom. As John will make clear soon enough, Jesus is the true bridegroom (3:29; cf. Mark 2:19–20). Thus, this final statement between the master of the banquet and the bridegroom summarizes perfectly the situation that has come into being with the arrival of Jesus and his work.24

2:11 This Jesus did in Cana of Galilee as the beginning of the signs, and he revealed his glory, and his disciples believed in him (Ταύτην ἐποίησεν ἀρχὴν τῶν σημείων ὁ Ἰησοῦς ἐν Κανὰ τῆς Γαλιλαίας καὶ ἐφανέρωσεν τὴν δόξαν αὐτοῦ, καὶ ἐπίστευσαν εἰς αὐτὸν οἱ μαθηταὶ αὐτοῦ). The final verse of the pericope is a summarizing interjection by the narrator. The deep significance of the pericope requires a bit of interpretive guidance. It is important to note that the same precision of insight that was presented by the prologue is also to be attributed to the narrator. The narrator will weave the prologue’s interpretive wisdom and explanatory insight throughout the narrative proper. The narrator explains that this miraculous work of Jesus was the start of the “signs” of Jesus. The anarthrous “beginning” (ἀρχὴν) is best understood not as “the first” but “a beginning,” or more loosely, “an inauguration of the signs yet to come.”25 That the signs are referred to as “beginning” suggests the writer knows of them as a specific set of events and about which more shall be heard.26 The message of the Gospel is intimately connected to several “signs.”

In Depth: “Signs”

Miracles in John are often described as “works” (ἔργα) of Jesus (e.g., 5:36; 9:3; 10:32, 37; 14:10). These “works” make visible both the character and the power of God and that in Christ he is active in a unique way. Yet there is an even more potent term for miracles in John that confronts us in this pericope: “sign” (σημεῖον). As Barrett explains, “This is one of the most characteristic and important words of the Gospel.”27 Like John’s use of “Word” (λόγος), John has chosen a deeply biblical term that has nonbiblical associations. In classical Greek, for example, “sign” referred to a distinguishing mark, a token, or a signal. But in the OT (LXX), its meaning often became linked to a special part of the prophetic activity: “No mere illustration, but a symbolical anticipation or showing forth of a greater reality of which the σημεῖον [the “sign”] is nevertheless itself a part.”28 In this later biblical sense the term is innately eschatological, but for John—in contrast to the more future-oriented use of the term in the Synoptics—the eschatological reality is already present.

There is debate over the number of “signs” in John. There are six miracles that the Gospel specifically identifies as “signs” (2:1–11; 4:43–54; 5:1–18; 6:1–15; 9:1–41; 11:1–57).29 Interpreters have spilled a lot of ink trying to determine where the seventh, implicit sign is located, if at all, and how to determine the seventh sign.30 Although we will explore the nature of John’s “signs” as we progress throughout the narrative, it is interesting to note that the first of the six stated “signs” occurs in the same pericope as the last of the six stated “days,” another term about which there has been much debate. Similar to John’s use of the six “days,” the six “signs” serve alongside their individuality as a corporate unit, unfolding throughout the remainder of the Gospel. It is not surprising, though, that on the sixth “day,” when the image of God is made known to his creation, the “signs” have their “beginning.” We should expect, then, for the implicit seventh sign not to be hidden in the middle of John somewhere but to be fully manifested only at the end, at the transition point between work and rest, alongside the implicit seventh day (for a summary of the identification of the seventh sign, see comments before 20:1).

The signs function as the means by which Jesus “revealed his glory” (ἐφανέρωσεν τὴν δόξαν αὐτοῦ). The signs “point us to something beyond themselves,”31 so that the images pressed upon the reader by the narrative regarding Jesus reflect who he is and what he can (and will) do. These signs, then, express what the prologue and introduction have foretold: “We beheld his glory” (1:14) and “You will see heaven open . . . upon the Son of Man” (1:51). Said another way, “What you just saw, that was the glory of God, and his name is Jesus.” In this sense, the signs are the aftershock of “God with us.” Their purpose is fulfilled in the disciples, who after seeing the signs “believed in him” (ἐπίστευσαν εἰς αὐτὸν). They did not believe in the signs themselves but in the one to whom they pointed. Ultimately, this is exactly what John wants for the reader, since his last reference to “signs” is in the concluding purpose statement of the Gospel: “These [signs] have been recorded that you may believe” (20:30–31).

Theology in Application

The God of creation is at one and the same time intimately involved with his creation and wholly other. The arrival of the “Son of Man” (1:51) creates a cognitive dissonance that reflects both aspects of the Creator in creation. Even more, it reflects by means of the love of God the good news that the separation between God and humanity is being restored in the person and work of Christ but on his terms. This is the good news: God is working by his means, his power, and for his purposes. Let us rejoice and be glad in it!

The Mission of the Son from the Father

The strong bond of family relations between Jesus and his mother was rightly qualified by means of the strong bond of family relations between Jesus, the unique Son, and his Father (v. 4). The nature of separation was merely correction, as Jesus carefully located his response to his mother within the loving confines of the will of his Father. Only God can incorporate all our needs (imagined and real) into his own will and mission, ultimately bringing to himself all the glory (v. 11). The distance Jesus placed between himself and his mother was an expression of the love of God.

The church is constantly redefining itself by means of the strong bond of family relations it has with the Father through Christ and guided by the Holy Spirit. By nature, the Christian is distanced from not merely the world but even himself, his old self. The call of the Christian is constantly to work at establishing the will and wisdom of God as the plumb line for every human plan and purpose. Placing God at the center is ultimately the best, self-seeking decision a Christian can make. It is to have “thy will be done” as the backdrop of every thought and as the motor of every decision. In the end, it is to embrace a Christ-centered posture.

God’s Timing

God is never late or hurried. God is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love (Ps 103:8). Jesus’s emphatic statement for the timing of God, “the hour,” made certain that all things be viewed as part of God’s schedule and on God’s timeline. The actual “hour” for John is inclusive of everything the death and resurrection of Jesus will bring. All clocks set their time by this “hour.” It is the center of all activity and the source of all movement in any direction. According to John, however, even when this “hour” was future it was not entirely inactive. The Creator had always been extending his love to creation. The OT proclaims the various moments before the “hour,” depicting the “hour” as both mandatory and marvelous. It is in Jesus that the “hour” becomes the climactic moment of God’s love, the culminating hour in the long history of God’s expression of love to the world. And all God’s initial expressions of love, taking the form of Jewish customs, feasts, and every religious institution, find their fulfillment in Jesus.

The True Master of the Banquet, the True Bridegroom

From the moment the wedding started, the actual characters in the story were eclipsed by Jesus. The narrative suggests as much by turning to the actual master of the banquet and bridegroom at the end of the pericope. The master of the banquet was not a servant but an honored guest; Jesus, in contrast, was just one of the guests. The bridegroom was the person being celebrated; Jesus, in contrast, was just one of those bestowing honor. Yet it was Jesus who in the end became the honored guest and the person being celebrated. The irony reaches its climax when the master of the banquet gives the credit for the superior wine to the bridegroom. The silence of the bridegroom is deafening—the name of Jesus shouts through the silence.

The world is full of people being honored and celebrated, speaking to each other with praise or even to themselves in words of self-promotion. Yet there is only one person who deserves to be honored and celebrated: Jesus Christ. He is the true master and bridegroom of the church, the one through whom all things came into being (1:3) and through whom all things find their meaning. The church reserves its worship for God through Christ alone. There is no other name, no other person, no other truth besides Jesus and what he brings.

From Purification Water to Celebratory Wine

Everything about those jars of water for Jewish purification speaks of Judaism and the old covenant. Yet their value was entirely changed in the presence of Jesus. The moment he arrived, true cleansing had no need for ceremonial jars made of purified stone. Rather, their use was relegated to serving as containers for celebratory wine. Purification water was transformed into wine for celebration, not for cleansing. The church is in no need of purification jars made of purified stone; rather, the church needed and received a greater purification that has come through, ironically, a man made in the form of a jar of clay (2 Cor 4:7).

The narrative has guided the reader to grasp the significance and imagery it projected. Three things can be highlighted. First, based upon the “hour” of Jesus (v. 4) and that the good wine was kept “until now” (v. 10), along with the Gospel’s clear connection to the Old Testament, Jesus’s person and work is depicted as the fulfillment of God’s activity in the world. Yet the miracle of water to wine is at the same time a distancing “not yet” and a “taste” of the good that has already broken through with Jesus.

Second, based upon the amount (v. 6) and quality (vv. 9–10) of water turned to wine, along with the implicit connection to the OT motif of the abundance of wine as characteristic for the coming kingdom of God (e.g., Amos 9:13–14; cf. Gen 49:11), Jesus’s person and work is depicted as the full blessing of God’s activity in the world.32 As Isaiah declared: “The LORD Almighty will prepare a feast of rich food for all peoples, a banquet of aged wine . . . the finest of wines. . . . In that day they will say, ‘Surely this is our God; we trusted in him, and he saved us. This is the LORD, we trusted in him; let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation’ ” (Isa 25:6, 9).

Third, based upon the narrative tension between his role at the wedding and the master of the wedding and the bridegroom (vv. 8–10), along with the implicit connection to the biblical motif of the wedding of God (Rev 19:7–9; cf. Matt 22:1–14), Jesus’s work is to be understood in light of and in preparation for the wedding par excellence. We stated above that the role Jesus played in this wedding was ultimately the role of the master of the banquet. But the narrative suggests even more. The narrative’s depiction of the anonymous bridegroom, the recipient of the praise of the master of the banquet, is suggesting (and made explicit in 3:29) that Jesus is the bridegroom, whose role as the true bridegroom is bursting through the narrative’s significance and imagery.

The Wedding of Cana Became the Wedding of God

The details of the pericope are careful to express specifically how Jesus is the center of and meaning behind this wedding in Cana of Galilee, and that his meaning ultimately extends to something much grander: the wedding of God. The wedding in Cana of Galilee, with its wedding party waiting to have their hands washed and their wine replenished, is like the world who has not known that the God of creation is the way, the truth, and the life (14:6). The church, the bride of Christ, has enjoined herself to the true bridegroom and awaits the real celebration to begin. The church’s existence in this world is like being one of the servants in the wedding who knows who the true bridegroom is but is surrounded by people who are unaware. The church, seeing the unseen, must now navigate itself as both a witness to the wedding of God and as a faithful partner awaiting reunion with her bridegroom. Thus, at one and the same time, the church is blessed with the promise of glory and committed to participate in the mission of the Son from the Father.