“They have no wine.” John ii.3

I shouldn’t like to hazard a guess as to how many sermons have been preached on this text in this building, but yet I still venture to think that we may profit by a meditation on it.

It is not difficult to imagine the scene, of restrained gaiety and happiness at first, then the loosing of the tongues under the influence of wine and a general hilarity, followed by a gradual decrease in the house as it is found that the supplies of drink have run out. Perhaps an impulsive remark rings out above the gradually increasing silence: “I shall like some more of that.” “What no more!” “How odd!” “There must be some mistake!”

Then comes Mary’s remark, not repeating the gossip which was beginning to infringe on Charity, but the perfect prayer, putting one’s needs before God.

What pages have been written about Our Lord’s answer, by Catholic and Protestant, and how temerarious seems now the opinions expressed when we are told that the phrase is still used by the Arabs today and that its meaning entirely depends upon the tone of voice used: that it can mean anything from “mind your own business!” to “You needn’t worry everything is being satisfactorily arranged, it will be all right!”

Mary was quite sure that her Son would do something to help, because she warned the servants to be ready for His instructions, and we can adore God in this mystery in which we have every right to believe that though the time, in the mind of God, for her Son’s revelation of His power was not yet, through her prayer it was advanced and His power let loose to help these in need, albeit a purely material one. And the servants obliged and God found all the requisites for the outpouring Grace; humble faith and petition, and obedience. Mary asked, the servants obeyed and God’s time was advanced.

Mary’s prayer to her Son for England today is the same as it was at the Wedding Feast over 1900 years ago: “They have no wine.” Not the wine of the wrath of God, nor the wine of violence, do they lack, but the scented wine of Lebanon which ascends as a sweet smelling savour before the throne of God.

They have refused to clothe themselves with the merits of Christ, they have not put on Christ; but have tried to stand before God in the pride of their own strength and achievement, and they are failing, they die of thirst. And the rulers of the feast, the ministers of God, have failed also: they have not taught their sheep where alone they can find the wine of Lebanon, the wine that maketh glad the heart of man, by which alone he is able to rejoice before the Lord.

What do I mean by this parable? That Englishmen are hugging to their bosom a heresy and rejoicing in it. Pelagianism, which had, I believe, its origin in Britain. It means no belief in original sin, denial of man’s need of grace and lack of faith in the supernatural life, the life in Christ, which He came to win for us and to give us here and now.

And this heresy is all wrapt up in a noisy, material Humanism, in which this life is the end of all things, and the life hereafter is ignored.

If and when people talk of Religion it is nearly always of externals, the Vicar’s sermon, the choir, the energies or iniquities of the curate, the services and ceremonial, bazaars and clubs, not forgetting the Parish magazine. They are, perhaps, not quite so bad as the sailor in the drifting life-boat who when hope of survival seemed at a very low ebb, on being told by his Captain to say a prayer or read a bit from the Bible, found that he could do neither of these things, but did do something “Religious”; he took up a collection!

As to the A B C, the important things of Religion, Prayer, How to Pray, to Worship, to grow in Grace, they knew little or nothing. The idea that to take up the Christian religion means to seek Christ, to get to know Him, to fall in love with Him, to serve Him here on earth and to be happy with Him forever in heaven – is entirely foreign to their mode of thought.

They probably think St Paul was mad when he said that he counted all things as dung compared with the chance of knowing Christ and the power of His resurrection.

Now, the reason for the indifference with which all religious are confronted is that most people are living on a material level, secure and satisfying up to a point but on a purely natural basis, and they don’t want to be disturbed or helped to anything higher. We are like men trying to sell electric machines to people who have only gas laid on. There is no point of contact. Our one hope is the teenager, who is so often driven from home in the evenings by the house-proud mother or the television fan of a father. We offer a supernatural life in which all material things are but as means: we teach that life here is an exile from ‘our true native land,’ a recruiting and training camp of life of perfection hereafter, in which the most important thing is knowledge of Christ, where recruits must be taught to love, trust and follow their leader. The Apostolic message was Jesus Christ risen from the dead “whom ye slew, but whom God raised up again.” Ours must be the same. And it is the Resurrection life of Christ which we are called to share – not stop short at Good Friday: perhaps the Easter Vigil Mass will help to emphasise this.

Our message must be that of the Apostles. The man Jesus Christ, Son of God and son of Mary, Whom we know as our Saviour and Friend, Who has the power and wisdom to use the world which He made, for the salvation, perfection and happiness of souls in the next. This He can do as He lives in the souls of man. The Christmas message, Emmanuel, God with us, is true, in every sphere of our lives; but Christmas is a preparation not only for Calvary but also Easter Morning. Somehow we have to shatter men’s belief in satisfaction with this world and replace it with a faith in a new world coming down from heaven. Our gospel must be truly other worldly, anything else is a betrayal of Our Lord. “I am come that they may have life, and may have it more abundantly. This is eternal life, that they may know Thee the only true God and Jesus Christ whom Thou has sent.” St. John.

“God became Man, that Man might become God,” St Augustine.

Sermons must be prayed out on our knees, with our Lord, that we may get to know what He wants us to say. How can we preach Him, if we don’t know Him ourselves?

Mary’s prayers to her Son for England today is “They have no wine.” Mary’s challenge to us Priests is “Whatsoever He saith unto you, do it.”

The writing of our sermons should be acts of adoration, listening and learning from Him, and when He bids us draw out and deliver to His people and our people, it will be, please God, not the water of our stumbling efforts, but the rich wine of Lebanon, the intoxicating draught of the knowledge and love of God, poured out for the healing of our nation.

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