Six Stone Jars (John 2:1-11)

 There were six stone jars of water at the wedding in Cana. Huge jars. Jars that could hold 20–30 gallons each; or, 100,000 jelly beans, each, give or take. Jars that were big enough to be good hiding places for kids playing hide-n-seek, or sardines, if the jars were empty and not full of water. (You probably don’t want to hide in the jars if they are full of water.)

The scripture says that these jars of water were for the Jewish rites of purification. So the water wasn’t for drinking. And it wasn’t for hygiene. It was there for purely ceremonial purposes.

In fact, that’s why the scripture tells us that these jars were made of stone, and not pottery. Jars of pottery could become unclean, ceremonially speaking, if something unclean touches it or is put inside it; but stone jars would remain clean. 

(This is all explained in the book of Leviticus, everyone’s favorite book to read, so I’m sure this is stuff you already know.)

So if, say, one of those kids playing sardines was unclean, ceremonially speaking, and hid inside one of those stone jars, the stone jar itself, because it was made of stone, would remain in a state of cleanliness, and it would still be ok to use that stone jar the next day to hold the water for the Jewish rites of purification.

See?

Jewish teaching instructed ritual purification by water for a number of reasons. It was part of the process by which a ritually unclean person could become ritually clean. If a person wasn’t ritually clean, they couldn’t be a part of the celebration.

So they had to go through the washing ritual, in order to be clean, and be a part of the party.

In fact, I think everyone did some sort of washing as they arrived at the party, or before they ate. Again, this wasn’t for hygiene; it was a ceremonial ritual.

Depending on the situation, purification might require a washing of hands; or, it might require complete bodily immersion: a washing of the whole body. 

Hence, the need for six large stone jars of water.

These purification rituals were distinguishing marks of Jewish identity. Among other things, they helped show who is a part of the group, and who is not. Who is in, and who is out. Who is welcome, and who is unwelcome.

You don’t want just anyone coming to your wedding. Only certain people are invited to the party. At the very least, they had to be ritually clean, ceremonially clean, to attend.

It reminds me of Alexander Campbell and his communion token. I don’t know if you remember, but I shared the story with you last fall of a young Alexander Campbell, going to his Scottish Presbyterian worship service on one of the few Sundays of the year when communion was served.

In that faith community, in order to receive communion, one had to meet with the pastor prior to the service. The pastor would examine you, evaluate your worthiness, and give you a token which you then had to present in worship in order to receive communion.

Obviously, those who were not in good standing with that Scottish Presbyterian church would not receive a token.

Meeting with the pastor in order to receive a token was like the ritual of washing before joining the wedding party; both were ways of determining one’s worthiness. They were ways of dividing people into those who were worthy, and those who were not; those who we want to let in, and those we want to keep out. Those approved, and those not approved.

Figuring out who is approved and who is not, who is allowed in and who is barred from entering, is something we still do today, in various ways. 

The debate over immigration—and immigration reform—is a debate over who is allowed in, and who is not; who gets to benefit, and who gets denied benefits.

We divide people by immigration status, and also by race, by religion, by class, by education, by sexual orientation and gender identity. We deny rights to certain people based on one or more of these categories. Those we deem less worthy get fewer rights. 

We’re still separating people into categories of clean and unclean.

Tomorrow, we celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birthday. King knew about our tendency to separate and divide people. He knew about and experienced how we judge people by the color of their skin, and use skin color to determine who is worthy and who is not. He knew that too many were kept from entering the party, while only a few were let in.

For me, the doors to the party are often open; but for others, because of their race, or their gender, or their sexual orientation, or their nationality, or their religion, those doors are kept shut. 

I work hard; but I know people who work even harder, yet receive only half as much. Half as many opportunities, half as much pay, half as much respect.

People look at me, and often think to themselves, “Oh, yeah; he’s clean.” Or they say, “a little water on your hands is enough.” But then they look at others, and say: “No, you need to wash up. You need to immerse yourself in the water. You can’t just come in here like that! You need to jump through a few more hoops first, and then, maybe, we’ll let you into the party.”

But they set the bar so high (for them, not for me), that not even six large stone jars filled with water would be enough.

Well, what if there was no water for the washing ritual? No jars, no buckets… not even a thimble full of water? Not even a drop?

Without the ritual, how could people determine who is allowed in, and who isn’t? How could people determine who is clean, and who is unclean? 

What if we just did away with that, and just allowed everyone into the party?

It’s a radical idea. It’s revolutionary! It completely shifts how society is ordered.

And it’s what Jesus did, when he turned the water into wine.

Wine was something everyone could enjoy. Wine wasn’t used in any ritual that separated people from one another. It was water that was used for those rituals.

But now, there is no water. It has all been turned into wine.

And it’s hard to complain about having more wine! Who’s going to complain about that? 

If anyone is upset over the disappearance of the ceremonial water, any objections they might utter will be drowned out by the cheers of people filling up their goblets with the just-appeared wine, laughing, maybe even crying, at the unexpected blessing of wine that has appeared before them.

I am amazed at the way Jesus handles this situation. He does away with the unjust system of division and separation, but he does it in a way that brings joy and laughter. He doesn’t insult the host or anyone else. He doesn’t insult the guests for participating in an unjust system. There is great kindness and compassion in the way he goes about this.

Yet, at the same time, he demonstrates in a very powerful way the need to do away with practices that discriminate and divide.

In doing this, Jesus shows us a better way. Given how divided we are as a country, and the strong opinions people have that so often lead to anger and insult,

Jesus shows us how to move toward justice. He shows us how to shine a light on the benefits of justice, and make plain the injury and harm caused by unjust practices, policies, and attitudes,

All while practicing kindness and compassion and love toward all.

There is a way to stand firm for justice, for equality, while at the same time, showing love and respect for those who have yet to understand how things work in the kingdom of God.

By the way, there are other stories in the gospels, of Jesus and his disciples not washing; and those stories are tied to other stories where the way of Jesus gets opened up to outsiders, foreigners, and people of other religions. So this isn’t the only time in the gospels that we see this happening.

And the apostle Paul, who was a proud Jew until the day he died, also worked to open up the way of Jesus to those who were not Jews—to those who were outsiders—because of his strong belief that there should be no divisions among people, and that all are one in Christ Jesus.

My understanding of this story is indebted somewhat to Elizabeth Edman, an Episcopal priest. She sums things up like this:

“What I saw was Jesus taking these pots of water - water designed for ritual bathing, for spiritual cleansing - and turning that water into wine that everyone was supposed to drink. What I saw was Jesus taking this substance that was all caught up in ideas of cleanness and uncleanness, all caught up in notions about what separates us from each other, and turning it into something designed to be shared, something that eases our anxiety about all the harsh lines in our world, something we take into our bodies in order to overcome barriers like ritual purity laws that separate us from one another.”

Edman identifies as queer, and she sees her queer identity as something that supports and enriches her understanding of this story.

After all, both the gospel and the queer movement work to break down barriers, to rupture binaries (as she puts it), to erase those divisions that separate people into sharply defined categories; and they both work to liberate people so they can simply be who they are: their true, authentic selves.

And that, Edman says, is what Jesus did when he changed the water into wine. He took what was used for rituals that determined who was clean and who was unclean, who was acceptable and who was not - and he transformed it into something that everyone was able to share and enjoy.

The other day I posted something about William T. Major on our church’s social media pages… William T. Major was a Kentucky Baptist for the first half of his life. Most Kentucky Baptists at that time supported slavery. They no doubt made use of the Bible to support their pro-slavery views. They weaponized the Bible, insisting that slavery was condoned and approved by scripture.

But William T. Major was an abolitionist, because like others I’ve mentioned today, he regarded anything that separated and divided humanity to be inconsistent with the gospel—especially an institution as horrible as slavery.

So in 1835, Major moved to Illinois. Two years later, he founded First Christian Church… and instead of making it a Baptist church, he chose to affiliate it with the new Disciples movement led by Alexander Campbell. 

To him, it didn’t matter that the Bible, at least in some places, allows slavery. He knew that slavery was contrary to the way of Jesus.

And I think that, were he alive today, William T. Major would support the decision First Christian Church made a few years back, to become Open and Affirming. There’s no way of knowing that for sure, but I can’t imagine Major not welcoming and affirming any person into the life of the church, simply because of who they are. I can’t imagine that any more than I can imagine Jesus saying to a leper, or a Gentile, or any other unclean person: “go away, you have no business being here.”

I can’t imagine that, because Jesus never did it. Jesus always welcomed those who the religious leaders of his day wanted to keep out.

The way of Jesus is about love, compassion, and kindness. The way of Jesus is about breaking down the barriers, and showing welcome and hospitality. Not just to some, but to all.

And it doesn’t matter if you are clean or unclean; Jew or Gentile; black or white; gay or straight; transgender or cisgender; documented or undocumented; rich or poor; male or female…

All are welcome at the party. All are welcome at the feast.

Overturning Tables of Injustice (John 2:13-22)

 It was just a little over two months ago now that we heard, in worship, the story of baby Jesus’ presentation in the temple. Mary and Joseph had traveled to Jerusalem with baby Jesus, went up to the temple, entered the massive courtyard, and offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord: a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons.

Actually, what the law of the Lord said (You can read it yourself in Leviticus 12) was that the offering should consist of a lamb AND a pigeon or turtledove; only if the person making the offering could not afford a lamb, could an offering of two turtledoves or two young pigeons be made.

Mary and Joseph were poor. When they went to the temple, they could not afford a lamb. Even an offering of turtledoves or pigeons was a stretch for them.

And, you may recall, it was made even worse by the way the whole process was manipulated and engineered to take advantage of those wanting to make an offering.

The sellers would only accept temple currency; no Roman coins were allowed. So, first, before they could even purchase their offering, pilgrims like Mary and Joseph had to exchange their Roman currency for temple currency.

And when they exchanged their Roman currency for temple currency, the moneychanger kept some as profit, and Rome kept some in the form of a tax on the exchange, which means Mary and Joseph lost money on the exchange.

Then, when they took their temple currency to buy their offering, the seller kept some as profit, and again there was a tax on the sale, which means that, in the end, Mary and Joseph paid out way more money than what the actual offering cost.

It was all about commerce. It was all about cheating the poor, to make the rich richer.

And it made it hard, so very hard, for people like Mary and Joseph to fulfill their obligations to the Lord.

As James Baldwin said, it’s extremely expensive to be poor.

This is just the way of the world; that’s just how the world works. In the world, economic systems are rigged in favor of the rich. That was true then, and it’s true today. The rich get their loopholes and their deductions, while the poor get stuck with heavier burdens.

To cite just one modern example: last week it was reported that, in 2023, General Electric made a profit of seven billion dollars, yet somehow paid no federal income tax and, in fact, received from the government 423 million dollars. 

For many other corporations, the situation is the same. They pay little or no taxes, they receive giant subsidies and tax breaks, all while making record profits.

Yet at the same time, they keep raising the prices that you and I have to pay. They blame their price raising on rising costs, yet the fact that they are making record profits shows that greed is really what’s causing them to raise prices.

It’s the same as the sellers and the moneychangers in the temple. Greed drove them to create a system that sucked as much money as it could from the poor, in order to line the pockets of the rich.

This is the injustice that all of the Old Testament prophets wrote about. 

It’s interesting, that all those Old Testament prophets only appeared in certain time periods. As it turns out, when the prophets were active, those were times when the gap between rich and poor was extreme; in other time periods, when the gap wasn’t as great, and the poor weren’t quite as poor, and the rich weren’t quite as rich… in those time periods, the prophets are silent. There are no prophetic writings from times of relative economic equality. 

This makes it clear that the exploitation of the poor is a primary concern of God’s… No wonder Jesus got so upset at the exploitation and injustice taking place in the temple.

The temple, God’s house of prayer—the house of prayer for all people—was supposed to be a refuge from the world’s corruption. God’s house of prayer was supposed to be a place where people could draw closer to God, but the economic barriers actually made it harder for the people. Instead of drawing people closer to God, the temple was keeping people separated from God.

So, when Jesus returns to the temple, he sees the sellers with their animals, and he sees the moneychangers, and he sees the people counting out their coins, knowing of the great sacrifices they are making, knowing that, for many of them, the sacrifices they make mean it’ll be that much harder to afford food to eat, or clothes to wear, or homes to live in, for themselves, for their families.

And Jesus knows there are others, those who are even poorer; people for whom any offering at all is an impossibility. Yet there are no concessions. If they can’t afford to exchange their money and purchase an offering, then they are deemed to be not right with God. 

It’s all so unjust! Do you see the injustice? Do you see how religion has been corrupted and perverted?

This is not what God’s house of prayer is supposed to be all about!

So: Jesus decides to (as we say) cleanse the temple.

He finds some cords, makes them into a whip, and runs around the marketplace, chasing all the animals out. Can you picture it? Cows and sheep all running amuck, mooing and baa-ing; people screaming and jumping out of their way as the animals rush past… And the birds in their cages getting all riled up by the commotion, adding their own noise to the mix, and flapping around so that feathers start flying out of their cages and swirling around in the courtyard…

Oh, what a beautifully chaotic scene!

And, as if that weren’t enough, Jesus overturns the tables of the moneychangers. Their coins all crash to the ground, and start rolling all across the courtyard. The moneychangers go chasing after their coins, and many of the people in the courtyard do as well, trying to pocket some without anyone noticing.

But Jesus notices; and maybe he smiles a little, thinking to himself that, at least in this moment, some of the money is going where it belongs: to those who need it most.

Then Jesus turns to those who were selling the doves and pigeons, and says: “Take these things out of here!” His voice must have been quite loud, or no one would have heard him, given all the noise that was around.

And then he says (even louder, I think): “Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!”

Because the injustice of the temple-empire complex is just too much for Jesus. The way the temple and the empire have conspired to rob the poor to feed the rich.

The temple is God’s house. Jesus loved the temple, or at least, the temple as it should be. A place where all people can draw close to God, with no barriers or obstacles. 

But the way the temple was being run, it was making it harder—and, in some cases, impossible—for the Jewish faithful to worship God, to present themselves before God, and to present an offering acceptable to God.

The etymology of the word “religion” can be traced back to the Latin word “religio,” which means to bind or to connect. It makes me think of the ligaments we have in our bodies: bands of tissue which connect bones, joints, or organs.

So, religion, done properly, connects us to God and to one another. It enables connection to happen. It creates a conducive and favorable environment for reconnecting.

But religion done improperly disconnects. It makes it harder for connection to happen. It sets up obstacles and barriers, creating an unfavorable environment for reconnecting.

The moneychangers and the sellers were making it harder for people to connect with God—especially poor people. Originally, their presence was meant to be a service, a convenience, to those arriving at the temple and needing to purchase an offering. But the way they took advantage of the situation for their own gain did just the opposite of how it was supposed to be.

And it makes me think about how religion works in the world today. For some, connecting with God has been made harder by religion—or, to be more precise, by religious institutions. Religion, for some, has become a burden. Religion has caused people harm. Religion has kept people apart from God.

But that’s not the way religion is supposed to be. Religion, by definition, is supposed to help people reconnect; and, in reconnecting, find healing and wholeness.

And even though there are many places today where religion is corrupted, and works to separate people from God and harm people, there are also many places today presenting a truer, more authentic form of religion; a religion that really does help people reconnect with God, with humanity, and with their true selves; a religion that makes people whole.

In the three months that I’ve been here, I’ve heard people say these things about First Christian Church: how they have found hope and healing through the ministry of this congregation; how the love and support and affirmation they received here helped put together the broken parts of their soul, and make them whole again.

That’s what religion is supposed to be like.

— — — 

In a few weeks, Lent will come to an end. We’ll find ourselves in Holy Week. And on Good Friday, we’ll hear again the story of Jesus’ death on the cross.

And we’ll hear how, at the moment that Jesus, on the cross, took his last breath, the curtain in the temple was torn in two. This curtain hung in the Holy of Holies, and served as a barrier between sinful humanity and the holy presence of God. The curtain was large, and likely embroidered, with blue, scarlet, purple, and other colors; and it was thick. Jewish tradition says that the Temple veil was as thick as a man’s hand, and I even read one description that said it was a foot thick. Which, I’m sure was an exaggeration; but the point is that the curtain was a barrier, a separation, between people and God.

But at the moment of Jesus’ death, the curtain was torn in two; and this tearing of the curtain at the moment of Jesus’ death symbolized the removal of all barriers between God and humanity. Jesus’ death on the cross removed the barriers, and brought humanity and God together. It reconnected God and humanity, once and for all.

So any religion, any version of Christianity, that makes it harder for people to connect with God, is not representing what Christ stood for. Any religion, any version of Christianity, that is about judgment and condemnation more than it is about grace and love and affirmation, is not representing what Christ stood for.

Because the one thing Christ could not tolerate, was the act of erecting barriers that kept people disconnected from God. The one thing Christ could not tolerate was placing heavier burdens on the lives of people who come seeking rest, relief, and redemption. Especially when those burdens were placed on the backs of the poor and the oppressed.

If you have been hurt by religion; if religion has pushed you further away from God; if religion has made you feel that you can’t come into God’s presence as you are, with all your goodness, with all your brokenness… If that’s what religion has done to you,

…then, on behalf of the church, I apologize. I apologize for what the church has said and done, and for how the church has actually made it harder for you to connect with God.

I do hope that you find here, at First Christian Church, a place where the barriers no longer exist, and where you feel you can come into God’s presence with your whole self, and know that God’s Spirit dwells within you, and that God’s love embraces you, and that the abundant life of Christ is available to you, free of charge.

And I hope that you know that, whatever you have to offer to God, is acceptable. You don’t have to exchange what you have for something else, and you don’t have to change who you are to become someone else, someone that you are not.

The curtain, the veil, has been torn in two; and God is waiting to reconnect with you, God’s own child; because God has loved you from the beginning; and God has never stopped loving you; and God will always love you, to the end of time.

Rupturing the Binary (John 2:1-11)

 MLK

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. For some strange reason, I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. This is the way God's universe is made.”

Inspired by the gospel, MLK worked tirelessly to overcome the divisions of society. Divisions between black and white, but also other divisions, like the division between rich and poor, and the division between the powerful and the power-deprived.

King understood how Jesus’ mission was to rupture those divisions and uproot any structure in which one group of people misuse or abuse the power or privilege they have over another group of people.

This is the gospel of Jesus Christ.

The gospel’s emphasis on overcoming these divisions can be seen in today’s scripture, in the story about Jesus turning the water into wine.

Six Stone Jars

In John’s gospel, this is the first miracle performed by Jesus, although John usually calls these miracles “signs.” 

As we heard, Jesus was at a wedding in Cana. There were many guests at the wedding who had travelled long distances to get there. The celebration was planned to last several days. At least.

But at some point, they ran out of wine. 

The story draws our attention to six stone jars, each holding 20 to 30 gallons of water. That’s about 150 gallons of water altogether.

This water was not intended for drinking. Rather, it was for ritual purification.

Jewish teaching instructed ritual purification by water for a number of reasons. It was part of the process by which a ritually unclean person could become ritually clean. If a person wasn’t ritually clean, they couldn’t be a part of the celebration.

Depending on the situation, purification might require a washing of hands; or, it might require complete bodily immersion: a washing of the whole body. Hence, the six jars of water.

These purification rituals were distinguishing marks of Jewish identity. In that sense, they could be compared to baptism, which is a distinguishing mark of Christianity. Among other things, it helps to show who is a part of the group, and who is not. Who is in, and who is out. 

So it was important to have all this water available.

Water Into Wine

So the question, now, is: why did Jesus do it? Why did Jesus change this water into wine?

At first glance, it seems he did it so that the host of the party could avoid the embarrassment of not having enough wine for the guests. 

But if miracles in John’s gospel are “signs,” what is this a sign of? Is it a sign that one of Jesus’ greatest concerns is to save us from embarrassment when our party-planning skills come up short? 

On the one hand, I’ve always thought that changing water into wine was a pretty cool thing for Jesus to do. Yeah, Jesus loves a good party!

And I think that maybe Jesus did love a good party - but, for me, that’s never really been a satisfactory answer as to why Jesus’ first miracle was changing water into wine.

I’ve heard some say that this miracle is a sign that, with God, the blessing of abundance never runs out. It’s kinda like the story of the loaves and fishes… It may look like there’s not enough of what we need, that we’re going to run out, but God always provides. 

And that is a good, acceptable  interpretation… but it still seems to be missing something.

But what else could this story, of Jesus changing water into wine, mean? What else could it be a sign of?

The fact that these jars of water were meant for purification, and not for drinking, is a clue; but I needed help deciphering this clue. 

Help finally came when I read an article about Elizabeth Edman, an openly queer priest in the Episcopal Church. That led to an hour-long interview with Edman that I saw on YouTube, and that led to me purchasing and reading her book, Queer Virtue.

Her discussion of the water-into-wine story is brief, but eye-opening. Here is what Elizabeth Edman sees in the story of the Wedding at Cana…

She writes:

“As I started working with the text, I saw something amazing going on, something that had nothing to do with weddings…. What I saw was Jesus taking these pots of water - water designed for ritual bathing, for spiritual cleansing - and turning that water into wine that everyone was supposed to drink. What I saw was Jesus taking this substance that was all caught up in ideas of cleanness and uncleanness, all caught up in notions about what separates us from each other, and turning it into something designed to be shared, something that eases our anxiety about all the harsh lines in our world, something we take into our bodies in order to overcome barriers like ritual purity laws that separate us from one another.

Queering Those Pots of Water

“What I saw was Jesus queering those pots of water.”

Well, this was a new way of understanding this story! And I had to sit with it, and think about it for awhile. And then I realized: She’s right.

We have divisions in our society. Some of the strongest divisions involve gender and sex and love. Society wants men to be men and women to be women. Society has certain expectations about sex: who can have sex with each other, and who cannot. Society has certain expectations about love: who can love each other, and who cannot.

The queer movement works to break down those barriers, to rupture those binaries, to erase those divisions that separate people into sharply defined categories; and it works to liberate people so they can simply be who they are: their true, authentic selves.

And that, she says, is what Jesus did when he changed the water into wine. He took what was used for rituals that determined who was clean and who was unclean, who was acceptable and who was not - and he transformed it into something that everyone was able to share and enjoy.

I started thinking about  what else Jesus did in his life, in his ministry: he was always breaking down barriers between this and that, between clean and unclean, between saint and sinner. 

Jesus’ own existence breaks down the barrier between body and soul, that divide between human and divine. We still tend to think of body and soul as two very different things. Two opposite things. Either you’re in the body, or you’re in the spirit.

But in Jesus, body and Spirit exist together. In Jesus, that binary has been ruptured.

Jesus even tore down the barrier between life and death. He crossed that divide, and he crossed back. He ruptured everything that people understood about life and death.

And this rupturing of binaries was symbolized when, at the moment of his death, the curtain in the temple - that curtain which separates the people from the holiest spot - was torn in two, from top to bottom, removing the barrier that separates the people from God.

Wine for Everyone

I think about the many problems we have in society today. And all of them seem to have been created or aggravated by an overdeveloped and false sense that there is a divide between “us” and “them.” Society says you’re either “this,” or “that.” You’re either an ally, or an enemy. You’re either with me, or you’re against me.

Isn’t this a part of the cause of every problem we have? Racism. Homophobia. Climate Change. Even our struggle to contain the coronavirus…

Some people are more interested in their own rights and freedoms, because they see themselves as separate from the rest of their community or the rest of humanity; and this prevents them from taking the steps needed to ensure their own health as well as the health of their community.

And everyone suffers as a result.

No wonder Jesus was all about rupturing these divisions. The healing, wholeness, and salvation of the world depends on rupturing these binaries. The kingdom of God is one in which all these divisions and separations are overcome.

All this brings me back to something I’ve mentioned a number of times, that the word “religion” literally means to “reconnect.” To practice religion is to understand that what separates you from anyone else, or from God, is an illusion, or a lie told to you by someone. 

As Martin Luther King Jr., said: “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.”

Now, after last week’s sermon on baptism, I have one more question for today: what are the implications of this water-into-wine story for baptism? If one of the ways we understand baptism is as a marker that defines who is a part of the church, and who is not,... should we rethink that?

Does baptism separate us from others in a way that prevents us from overcoming divisions?

Maybe the answer isn’t “either/or.” Maybe the answer is “both/and.” 

Maybe our baptism can help us to more closely follow the example set by Jesus, so that we see ourselves not as people who have been set apart or set aside, but as people who have been called to a special role in the uniting of humanity, in breaking down those divisions that separate us. 

Maybe that’s our baptismal calling: to be agents of unity and love, to rupture the binaries, to uproot the definitions and distinctions that deny a place and deny honor and dignity to some, and to instead welcome all and affirm all as God’s beloved people.

In other words, as baptized believers, I think it’s our job to ensure that the wine is available to all.