Why Jesus Went to Parties

Chapter 2:

     I was planning to write a chapter on twelve verses this week, but I never got past the second verse. Not supposed to do that. Supposed to present the entire story. I meant to, I really did. But I got stuck. The second verse wouldn't release me--it took me hostage--so I spent the whole lesson on one verse. Captivating little phrase, it was.
     I'll tell you about it, after I set the stage.
     Picture six men walking on a narrow road. The gold dawn explodes behind them, stretching shadows ahead. Early-morning chill has robes snugly sashed. Grass sparkles with diamonds of dew.
     Then men's faces are eager, but common. Their leader is confident, but unknown. They call him Rabbi; he looks more like a laborer. And well he should, for he's spent far more time building than teaching. But this week the teaching has begun.
     Where are they going? To the temple to worship? To the synagogue to teach? To the hills to pray? They haven't been told, but they each have their own idea.
     John and Andrew expect to be led into the desert. That's were their previous teacher had taken them. John the Baptist would guide them into the barren hills and for hours they would pray. For days they would fast. For the Messiah they would yearn. And now, the Messiah is here.
     Peter has another opinion. Peter is a man of action. A roll-up-your-sleeves kind of guy. A stand-up-and-say-it- sort of fellow. He likes the idea of going somewhere. God's people need to be on the ermove. Probably taking us somewhere to preach, he is thinking to himself. And as they walk, Peter is outlining his own sermon, should Jesus need a breather.
     Nathaniel would disagree. Come and see, his friend Philip had invited. So he came. And Nathaniel liked what he saw. In Jesus he saw a man of deep thought. A man of mediation. A heart of contemplation. A man who, like Nathaniel, had spent hours under the fig tree reflecting on the mysteries of life. Nathaniel was convinced that Jesus was taking them to a place to ponder. A quite house on a distant mountain, that's where we are going.
     And what about Philip? What was he thinking? He was the only apostle with a Gentile name. When the Greeks came looking for Jesus, it was Philip they approached. Perhaps he had Greek connections. Maybe Philip had a heart for the Gentiles. If so, he was hoping this journey was a missionary one-out of Galilee. Out of Judea. Into a distant land.
     Did such speculation occur? Who knows? I know it does today?
     I know Jesus' followers often enlist with high aspirations and expectations. Disciples step in line with unspoken yet heartfelt agendas. Lips posed to preach to thousands. Eyes fixed on foreign shores. I know where Jesus will take me, the young disciples claim, and so they, like the first five, follow.
     And they, like the first five, are surprised.
     Maybe it was Andrew who asked it. Perhaps Peter. Could be that all approached Jesus. But I wager that at some point in the journey, the disciples expressed their assumptions.
     " So Rabbi, where are you taking us? To the desert?" " No," opines another," " he's taking us to the temple." To the temple?" challenges a third. " We're on our way to the Gentiles!"
     Then a chorus of confusion breaks out and ends only when Jesus lifts his hand and says softly, " We're on our way to a wedding."
     Silence. John and Andrew look at each other. " A wedding?" they say. " John the Baptist would have never gone to a wedding. Why, there is drinking and laughter and dancing...
     " And noise!" Philip chimes in. " How can you meditate in a noisy wedding?"
     " Or preach in a wedding?" Peter adds.
     " Why would we go to a wedding?"
     Good question. Why would Jesus, on his first journey, take his followers to a party? Didn't they have work to do? Didn't he have principles to teach? Wasn't his time limited? How could a wedding fit with his purpose on earth?
      Why did Jesus go to the wedding?
     The answer? It's found in the second verse of John 2 ( the verse I could not pass). " Jesus and his followers were also invited to the wedding."
     When the bride and groom were putting the guest list together, Jesus' name was included. And when Jesus showed up with half-dozen friends, the invitation wasn't rescinded. Whoever was hosting this party was happy to have Jesus present.
     " Be sure and put Jesus' name on the list," he might have said. " He really lightens up a party."
     Jesus wasn't invited because he was a celebrity. He wasn't one yet. The invitation wasn't motivated by his miracles. He'd yet to perform any. Why did they invite him?
     I supposed they liked him. Big deal? I think so. I think it's significant that common folk in a little town enjoyed being with Jesus. I think it's noteworthy that the Almighty didn't act high and mighty. The Holy One wasn't holier-than-thou. The One who made the stars didn't keep his head in them. The One who knew it all wasn't a know-it-all. The One who owns all the stuff of the earth never strutted it.
     Never. He could have. Oh, how he could have!
     He could have been a name dropper: Did I ever tell you the time Moses and I went up on the mountain?" He could have been a showoff: Hey, want me to beam you into the twentieth century?"
     He could have been a smart-aleck: I know what you're thinking. Want me to prove it?"
     He could have been highbrow and uppity; I've got some property on Jupiter...
     Jesus could have been all of these, but he wasn't. His purpose was not to show off but to show up. He went to great pains to be as human as the guy down the street. He didn't need to study, but still went to the synagogue. He had no need for income, but still worked in the workshop. He had known the fellowship of angels and heard the harps of heaven, yet still went to parties thrown by tax collectors. And upon his shoulders rested the challenge of redeeming creation, but he still took time to walk ninety miles from Jericho to Cana to go to a wedding.
     As a result, people liked him. Oh, there were those who chaffed at his claims. They called him a blasphemer, but the never called him a braggart. They accused him of heresy, but never arrogance. He was branded as a radical, but never called unapproachable.
     There is no hint that he ever used his heavenly status for personal gain. Ever. You just don't get the impression that his neighbor grew sick of his haughtiness and asked, " Well, who do you think made you God?"
     His faith made him likable, not detestable. Would that ours would do the same!
     Where did we get the notion that a good Christian is a Solemn Christian? Who started the rumor that sign of a disciple is a long face? How did we create this idea that the truly gifted are the heavy-hearted?
     May I state an opinion that may raise an eyebrow? May I tell you why I think Jesus went to the wedding? I think he went to the wedding to-now hold on, hear me out, let me say it before you heat the tar and pluck the chicken feathers-I think Jesus went to the wedding to have fun.
     Think about it. It's been a rough season. Forty days in the desert. No food or water. A standoff with the devil. A week breaking in some greenhorn Galileans. A job change. He's left home. It hasn't been easy. A break and some good friends...well, it sounds pretty nice.
     So off they go.
     His purpose wasn't to turn the water to wine. That was a favor for his friends.
     His purpose wasn't to show his power. The wedding host didn't even know what Jesus did.
     His purpose wasn't to preach. There is no record of a sermon.
     Really leaves only one reason. Fun. Jesus went to the wedding because he liked the people, he liked the food, and heaven forbid, he may have even wanted to swirl the bride around the dance floor a time or two. ( After all, he's planning a big wedding himself. Maybe he wanted the practice?)
     So, forgive me, Deacon Drydust and Sister Somber heart. I'm sorry to rain on your dirge, but Jesus was a likable fellow. And his disciples should be the same. I'm not talking about debauchery, drunkenness, and adultery. I'm not endorsing compromise, coarseness, or obscenity. I am simply crusading for the freedom to enjoy a good joke, enliven a dull party, and appreciate a fun evening.
     Maybe these thoughts catch you by surprise. They do me. It's been awhile since I pegged Jesus as a party-lover. But he was. His foes accused him of eating too much, drinking too much, and hanging out with the wrong people! ( See Matthew 11:19) I must confess: It's been awhile since I've been accused of having too much fun. How about you?
     We used to be good at it. What has happened to us? What happened to clean joy and loud laughter? Is it our neckties that choke us? Is it our diplomas that dignify us? Is it the pew that stiffens us?

     Couldn't we learn to be children again?
     Bring out the marbles-(so what if the shoes get scuffed?).
     Bring out the bat and glove-(so what if the muscles ache?).
     Bring out the taffy-(so what if it sticks to your teeth?).
     Be a child again. Flirt. Giggle. Dip your cookie in your milk. Take a nap. Say you're sorry if you hurt someone. Chase a butterfly. Be a child again.
     Loosen up. Don't you have some people to hug, rocks to skip, or lips to kiss? Someone needs to laugh at Bugs Bunny; might as well be you. Someday you're going to learn to paint; might as well be now. Someday you are going to retire from your job, just retire from your attitude. Honestly, has complaining ever made the day better? Has grumbling ever paid the bills? Has worrying about tomorrow ever changed it?
     Let someone else run the world for a while. Jesus took time for a party...shouldn't we?