From water to wine. Jesus' gay wedding in Cana

Article by Terence published on the blog My queer spirituality (England) 8 August 2010, freely translated by Silvia Lanzi

Yesterday I dove into two books, and found two ideas that amplified each other to a very powerful effect, especially in this context of the advance of gay marriage and the resulting opposition from the bishops. “Take Back the Word” (by Robert Goss) is a collection of essays on the Scriptures that aims to take us queer Christians beyond the battles with the “terror texts” to a closer approach to what should be a source of inspiration and values ​​for our lives. “Queer Theology: Rethinking the Western Body” (by Gerard Loughlin) is another, broader and more ambitious collection of writings on a range of dimensions of faith from a queer perspective.

In the introduction to his book, Loughlin reflects on the story of the wedding celebrations at Cana, (John 2:1-11) which we generally think of in terms of the turning of water into wine. I immediately thought of this as a wonderful alternative image for “Take Back the Word” by Goss. It is one thing for us to move beyond the fear of the Scriptures to a point where there iswater of life: but how can we go even further – al wine of the celebration? I think this is what Elizabeth Stuart does in the song “Camping Around the Canon“, which ends with some considerations on the wedding. His view is that we must be able to approach Scripture with laughter – something that is absent from religious practice.
After a concise exposition of the historical and theological justification for this approach, he offers us an idea of ​​what it means by discussing Ephesians, 5:21-33 (“Wives, be submissive to your husbands“), a song often used in weddings and which for women can easily become a “text of fear“. Hearing it read at weddings left her filled with anger. But an analysis by Gerard Loughlin changed his reaction from the tragic to the comic, because reading “heteropatriarchal” and indeterminate

is washed by the deep waters of Christian symbols, to the extent that women are part of the Body, they too are called to be Christ for others; for this reason they can act as "groom" and "husband", towards that "bride" and "wife" that is the other, be it man or woman. Because it cannot be said that, in the community, only men are called to love as Christ does". (Gerard Loughlin, “Baptismal Fluid”, unpublished cited by Stuart)

Stuart comments: Loughlin's reading of the text transformed it into a queer text. Its very inconsistency with the "original" is enough to make you laugh. I find it funny that this passage is read so often and solemnly during weddings, the great ceremonies of heteropatriarchy.
(Stuart, Camping Around the Canon, in Goss “Take Back the Word”)

I remember that my own experience gave me a similar intuition and an opportunity for laughter. I was on retreat, and I found myself thinking of the Church as the bride of Christ, and I realized that as a gay man, I shared the strangeness (for a straight person) of imagining myself as “bride“, while instead I was able to imagine myself, in my meditations, which took on an incredible power, as the “husband” of Christ. Thinking about it later, I felt satisfaction and the desire to smile, thinking that my orientation gave me a unique advantage in prayer.

This left me with a predisposed receptivity to Loughlin's main ideas regarding the wedding at Cana. Instead of considering the miracle of reformation he asks, “Who got married?” And he answers the question step by step.

First, he points out that the story could be read as a parable, a preview of the last supper, the passion and the resurrection. The wedding is celebrated on the "third day" after Jesus spoke to Nathanael (Jn. 1:43 -51), and the transformation of the water into wine anticipates the transformation of the wine into his blood.
The mass retraces these three days in a liturgical way. So the idea is that, symbolically, in the Church's meditation on these events, we are all invited to the wedding, during which Christ marries his Church. On a more literal level, he marries his disciples. Then Loughlin continues to discuss a more literal and fascinating idea of ​​the early and medieval Church – that it was instead Christ who married John, his beloved disciple.
This idea takes shape in the apocryphal Acts of John where John is said to break off his engagement to a woman to “tie up” to Jesus. Apparently this is a sort of common thread in certain German schools of thought, at least until the Reformation, illustrated in some works of art.
The "Libellus for John the Evangelist“, is a painting of the wedding celebrations said to show a bearded Christ seated next to a hairless and androgynous John who, Loughlin says, appears to be preparing to kiss. In the'Admont Codex which illustrates the Orations and meditations of Saint Anselm, a two-part miniature shows the story of John. In one, he is seen leaving his girlfriend. In the following one, he lies on the floor with his head on Jesus' chest, while the latter tenderly caresses his chin.

Is this tradition true? We can't know. As in so many examples of Scripture, it is impossible to pass through the mists of an unfamiliar language, a different literary tradition, and a remote historical-cultural context to get closer to the “truth” literal beyond the text. It does not matter. Even without accepting the idea literally, it is enough for me to know that it was once widely accepted in the mystical tradition to incorporate it into my sensibilities as a reader.

The fun begins when Loughlin goes beyond the “meaning” of the text finding the irony in it. So, in full agreement with Elizabeth Stuart, I find myself practically laughing at (better to say with) the Scriptures. Because if it is true that the consecration of the Eucharistic wine in the blood of Christ is prefigured by the transformation of water into wine which took place at Cana, it is also true that in every mass we remember the wedding of Christ with his (male) disciples. Thus one can see every mass as a mystical – and gay – marital union.
The mass is celebrated by a priest who has pledged celibacy, thus renouncing procreation, but is expected to preach against homosexual marriage – because since homosexual intercourse does not lead to procreation it is “intrinsically disordered“. On the other hand, the priesthood is managed, in the Vatican, by a similar coterie of celibate men who reproduce themselves with the "recruitment” and not biologically – and castigates the homosexual community for its non-biological, but social reproduction.

"The threat posed to the family and society by gays and lesbians is often proclaimed by men - who call themselves "fathers" - who have vowed not to father children. The pope lives in the company of such men – who have become “eunuchs” for Christ – who multiply by persuading others not to do so. But isn't even the refusal of fertility, or a celibate lifestyle, a threat to the family and to society?" (Loughlin, introduction to “Queer Theology”)
Original text: Water into Wine: Jesus's Gay Wedding at Cana