Old Wine, New Joy: Tradition and Transformation
Texts: Luke 5:33–39; John 2:1–11
Transcribed from “Sermons Old and New” By Charles Bartham
There’s a quiet wisdom in wine. It doesn’t rush. It deepens with age. It carries memory in its body - sunlight, soil, season, and care. In the ancient world, as today, aged wine was prized not just for its taste but for its story. It was a symbol of maturity, of patience, of something that had been lovingly tended and allowed to become what it was meant to be. Jesus knew this. So did his listeners. And when he said, “No one after drinking old wine desires new, for they say, ‘The old is better,’” he wasn’t being ironic. He was speaking truth.
In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus uses the image of wine and wineskins to speak about change. New wine needs new containers - structures that can stretch and grow. But then he adds a line that only Luke includes: “The old is better.” It’s a curious addition, especially when compared with Matthew and Mark, who stop short of this proverb. Luke seems to be saying something more. He’s not rejecting the new, but he’s honouring the old. He’s reminding us that tradition, like aged wine, has value - not just because it’s familiar, but because it’s seasoned, tested, and rich.
In John’s Gospel, we find another story about wine. At a wedding in Cana, the wine runs out. The feast falters. And Jesus provides more - miraculously. But not just more. Better. The steward is astonished: “Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now.” Again, we see a reversal of expectation. The best comes last. The new wine Jesus provides is not merely fresh - it is of superior quality. And though the text doesn’t specify its age, the implication is clear: this wine is better than what came before.
Taken together, these two passages offer a profound reflection on tradition and transformation. Luke cautions against discarding the old too quickly. John celebrates the surprise of new abundance. Neither passage asks us to choose one over the other. Instead, they invite us to discern - to ask not simply what is old or new, but what is good. What deepens joy, communion, and grace.
This is a timely word for any parish navigating change. In our worship, our community life, our spiritual rhythms, we are often faced with choices between old and new. Do we keep the hymns that have carried generations, or do we make space for new songs? Do we hold fast to familiar liturgies, or do we explore fresh expressions of prayer? Do we cherish long-standing relationships and practices, even as new members bring fresh energy and insight? These are not easy questions. But Luke and John remind us that the answer is not found in novelty or nostalgia alone. It is found in discernment - in tasting and seeing what is good.
So let us be a parish that knows the taste of time. Let us honour the old without clinging to it. Let us welcome the new without rushing past wisdom. Let us trust Christ to pour what is good - at the right time, in the right vessel. And when the wine runs low, may we remember: he has kept the good wine until now.
Amen.
Texts: Luke 5:33–39; John 2:1–11
Transcribed from “Sermons Old and New” By Charles Bartham
There’s a quiet wisdom in wine. It doesn’t rush. It deepens with age. It carries memory in its body - sunlight, soil, season, and care. In the ancient world, as today, aged wine was prized not just for its taste but for its story. It was a symbol of maturity, of patience, of something that had been lovingly tended and allowed to become what it was meant to be. Jesus knew this. So did his listeners. And when he said, “No one after drinking old wine desires new, for they say, ‘The old is better,’” he wasn’t being ironic. He was speaking truth.
In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus uses the image of wine and wineskins to speak about change. New wine needs new containers - structures that can stretch and grow. But then he adds a line that only Luke includes: “The old is better.” It’s a curious addition, especially when compared with Matthew and Mark, who stop short of this proverb. Luke seems to be saying something more. He’s not rejecting the new, but he’s honouring the old. He’s reminding us that tradition, like aged wine, has value - not just because it’s familiar, but because it’s seasoned, tested, and rich.
In John’s Gospel, we find another story about wine. At a wedding in Cana, the wine runs out. The feast falters. And Jesus provides more - miraculously. But not just more. Better. The steward is astonished: “Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now.” Again, we see a reversal of expectation. The best comes last. The new wine Jesus provides is not merely fresh - it is of superior quality. And though the text doesn’t specify its age, the implication is clear: this wine is better than what came before.
Taken together, these two passages offer a profound reflection on tradition and transformation. Luke cautions against discarding the old too quickly. John celebrates the surprise of new abundance. Neither passage asks us to choose one over the other. Instead, they invite us to discern - to ask not simply what is old or new, but what is good. What deepens joy, communion, and grace.
This is a timely word for any parish navigating change. In our worship, our community life, our spiritual rhythms, we are often faced with choices between old and new. Do we keep the hymns that have carried generations, or do we make space for new songs? Do we hold fast to familiar liturgies, or do we explore fresh expressions of prayer? Do we cherish long-standing relationships and practices, even as new members bring fresh energy and insight? These are not easy questions. But Luke and John remind us that the answer is not found in novelty or nostalgia alone. It is found in discernment - in tasting and seeing what is good.
So let us be a parish that knows the taste of time. Let us honour the old without clinging to it. Let us welcome the new without rushing past wisdom. Let us trust Christ to pour what is good - at the right time, in the right vessel. And when the wine runs low, may we remember: he has kept the good wine until now.
Amen.
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