The marriage at Cana, in miniature
Heather gave the book
Deer Hunting with Jesus the hard sell — “Everyone in this church needs to read this book!” — and started the ball rolling by loaning her copy to another class member. [Note that the author, Joe Bageant, has a blog also titled
Deer Hunting with Jesus, which features more info on the book, and more writing by Bageant.]
Linda led us through some interaction with ch. 3 of Writing in the Sand by Thomas Moore, which John had recommended a couple of weeks ago. It’s a meditation on John 2:1-11, the wedding at Cana, also known as the story of Jesus turning water to wine. After reading the passage, we contributed our familiar, “Sunday School lesson” impressions of the story, which included “Jesus says it’s OK to drink wine, at least sometimes!” “Even though Jesus wasn’t married, he blesses marriage,” “Jesus listened to his mother,” “the point of the story is that it’s supposed to be proof Jesus is divine, because he can do miracles.” Heather makes it for an allegory of the life of the church. Dave reminded us that Father Guido Sarducci (remember him?) said it was proof of why Jesus had to be a man (“because women can’t make good wine”). Gary said it was like Advent: “love, peace, joy, hope . . . all wrapped up in one miracle.”
We were pretty intrigued by the involvement of Mary, Jesus’ mother, in the story, which some of has forgotten, or never noticed. That part of the story also seems extremely human, believable and relatable.
Thomas Moore reads the story as having to do with pleasure. He puts Jesus in the context of the Greek philosopher Epicurus, who thought the meaning of life lay in the enjoyment of life’s simple pleasures. He doesn’t just bless marriage, but blesses pleasure: men and women having a good time together, eating, drinking, dancing, celebrating, enjoying life. And it’s a story that makes Jesus parallel with the Greek god Dionysus, the “child god” who dies and comes back to life, whose followers encounter him in wine, who has something to do with the reconciliation of extreme opposites, like sensuality/spirituality, . . . [sorry, there were other examples, but I don't remember what they were!] So one of the important lessons of the story for Moore is that Jesus was not an uptight moralist, “inhibited, controlled, righteous, and fearful,” but gave the nod to earthy earthly pleasure. Jesus’ way is ecstatic, celebratory, and a way of joyful reconciliation as opposed to being torn apart by conflicts.
Whether we live and model this way of life . . . well, maybe we are getting better.
Whether or not we are, thinking about it led to some discussion of why people might go elsewhere, if we are so loose and laid back, especially if they are going through some kind of crisis or difficult time. Someone said they knew of someone who preferred to go to a larger, more anonymous church a couple of towns over under those circumstances. This led to some discussion of why . . . why might someone feel uncomfortable sharing with the church the tough times they’re going through, since theoretically that’s exactly when the church is supposed to be most helpful . . . “OK, I know people are going to be there, but I don’t want to be the person needing the help” is one possibility; “. . . and everyone else is doing OK and not having these problems” is another — i.e., I don’t want to be the only one, although “I think anyone here would think ‘this is a high-functioning person who’s going through a rough patch’ instead of some big judgment.” Then maybe “everyone needs a change sometimes” or “if you know everyone knows what’s going on, maybe you want to go somewhere where no one will talk about it, if you’re living this crisis Monday through Friday, on Sunday you want a break.”
