It was based on John 2:1-11, the story of Jesus turning water into wine.

Going to 11

Back in the early 80s comedian, actor and filmmaker Rob Reiner released a movie that changed the way films were made. He called it a “mockumentary”, in other words, a mock documentary.

The film was called “This Is Spinal Tap” and it chronicled the trials of a fictional rock band called Spinal Tap, but it did so by seeming to be a documentary about a real band. The film was so successful that Spinal Tap did become a real band for a while. The actors who made up the fictional band, and who happened to be musicians themselves, actually toured around the country. They even put out a couple of albums.

I was in college when Spinal Tap came out and like most of my college peers I memorized funny lines from the movie so I could quote them at random. For a couple of years while I was at school, almost every conversation would be liberally sprinkled with Spinal Tap lines thrown in at random by nearly every participant.

There was an insane amount of one-liners in the movie, especially considering that the film’s running time was only 82 minutes. In fact, the film violates one of my rules of movie watching. The 90 minute rule states that if a filmmaker cannot produce 90 minutes worth of movie, then it is not worth the audience’s time to watch that movie. Perhaps This Is Spinal Tap is the exception that proves the rule since I laugh like a fool every time I see it.

Out of the lines from the movie that we all loved to quote, the most famous has to be the following exchange between the mockumentary filmmaker Marty DiBergi, played by Rob Reiner who is an unseen voice offscreen and band leader Nigel Tufnel played by Christopher Guest. Tufnel is showing DiBergi around his studio and he points out a particular amplifier.

Nigel Tufnel: The numbers all go to eleven. Look, right across the board, eleven, eleven, eleven and... 
Marty DiBergi: Oh, I see. And most amps go up to ten? 
Nigel Tufnel: Exactly. 
Marty DiBergi: Does that mean it's louder? Is it any louder? 
Nigel Tufnel: Well, it's one louder, isn't it? It's not ten. You see, most blokes, you know, will be playing at ten. You're on ten here, all the way up, all the way up, all the way up, you're on ten on your guitar. Where can you go from there? Where? 
Marty DiBergi: I don't know. 
Nigel Tufnel: Nowhere. Exactly. What we do is, if we need that extra push over the cliff, you know what we do? 
Marty DiBergi: Put it up to eleven. 
Nigel Tufnel: Eleven. Exactly. One louder. 
Marty DiBergi: Why don't you just make ten louder and make ten be the top number and make that a little louder? 
Nigel Tufnel: [pause] These go to eleven.

For a certain generation of young people, including me, this exchange became sort of a rallying cry. Not only did we quote the lines from the movie, but it became so deeply ingrained in our culture that we began applying this “goes to 11” logic to our own lives and our own experiences.

There were and still are t-shirts that say “Goes to 11” on the front signifying that the wearer is larger than life.

There are numerous web pages and blogs, most of them written by people from my generational cohort, bearing the title or subtitle “Goes to 11.”

A few days ago a friend of a friend who was close to my age passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. One of his friends had this to say about him:

"He didn't fit in a clique. He fit in ALL the cliques. He was a dancer, a singer, a cheerleader, a brainiac, a music lover, and above all, a friend. In one of my favorite movies, Nigel says his guitar amp "goes to eleven". Karl lived his life on eleven."

It was just a throwaway line in a low budget cult-film. A joke. It was written exclusively to make people laugh, not for people to take it as a mantra in life. The filmmakers probably didn’t think for a second that the movie’s fans would still be repeating this line almost 30 years later. And they certainly couldn’t have anticipated that we would be using it to compliment and extol the memory of a dear departed friend. I'm sure they didn't think that one day some Pastor would be using it as the basis for his sermon. “Goes to 11” has become a badge of honor for a certain segment of the late 30-something and early to mid-40-something population.

I myself aspire in some ways to “go to 11.” I want my sermons to go to 11… not in terms of length of course, or even volume but in terms of quality and effectiveness certainly.

I want to “go to 11” as a Dad, and as a husband and as a friend and a as a disciple of Jesus. I often don’t, but I want to… to go above and beyond to give it just a little bit more than is strictly necessary.

A little bit more than is strictly necessary.

That’s what Jesus did at the wedding at Cana. He gave the wedding reception just a bit more than was strictly necessary. He kicked the party up to 11.

They’re running out of wine at the wedding. Jesus mother appeals to him as only a mother can do. Jesus seems unwilling to do anything at first. I’ve often wondered why this unwillingness but lately I’ve begun to think that maybe he knew that if he got involved he wouldn’t be able to simply fix the problem. Jesus understood how the grace and love of God compelled him. Instead of simply remedying the problem, He’d go to 11. And if he did that it would cause a stir… people would certainly notice and he wasn’t quite ready for the whole world to know who he was.

In any event, he is compelled for some reason, a reason that seems to be about more than simply obeying his mother. And he instantly supplies 180 gallons of the best wine money-can’t buy. It’s enough for two feasts and it’s better than any wine the guests have ever had. Suddenly, it’s party time!

It is a miracle of insane extravagance. But John doesn’t call it a miracle. The evangelist calls this miraculous transformation of water into wine the first of Jesus’ signs.

Jesus inaugurates his ministry by performing a ‘sign’. We all know about signs. They exist not for themselves but to point to something else.

Interesting then, that Jesus starts by kickin the party into high gear. Why not just supply enough wine instead of providing enough for 2 or 3 parties? Why not simply provide half-decent wine since the guests who are already in their cups won’t know the difference anyway? Why not let the hosts, who obviously didn’t correctly reckon the amount of wine they would need, suffer the consequences of their own foolishness! In fact, why provide wine at all!?

Methodists and Baptists probably have a hard time with this scripture. Historically Methodists have been teetotalers and Southen Baptists still are. Methodists had very good reasons for their abstention from alcohol. We still use unfermented grape juice in communion, primarily so as not to provide encouragement to those who are tempted to abuse alcohol. And as a denomination we still officially support those who abstain as a way of bearing testimony to God’s grace and sufficiency in their lives.

The same social issues we face today existed in Jesus’ day as well. Read the book of Proverbs if you think that alcohol abuse wasn’t much of an issue in ancient Palestine. Yet Jesus seems not to care at all about these issues, at least for the moment. In fact he doesn’t seem to care that some people might question his ridiculously extravagant provision of enough alcohol to last through maybe two weeks of feasting.

This sign is a miracle of excess. Jesus flagrantly ignores whatever voices might be calling for moderation. He goes to 10 and then without even stopping to listen to how loud it is, he pushes the volume up that extra click!

Now, I don’t want you thinking that Jesus is giving permission to throw restraint and moderation to the wind. He’s at a party. The hosts have run out of wine. He has the power to do something about the situation and he does it. In fact, he does more than he needs to. His provision is more gracious than the wildest expectations.

It’s not about the alcohol. Remember, the transformed-to-wine water is a sign. It exists not for itself but to point to something else.

What the sign points to, at the inauguration of Jesus’ ministry is the profligate, insane, ridiculous graciousness of Jesus’ Father in Heaven.

Anyone remember the scripture on tithing from Micah? It’s Micah 3:10 – Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this," says the LORD Almighty, "and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it.

We’re not talking about tithing today but we are talking about extravagant grace. Provision so generous that it’s hard to find a place to store it. God is the God who pours out so much blessing that it is embarrassing! And he does this not just for tithers but he even does it for those who are stingy when placing their catering order, or perhaps they were just poor party planners.

Jesus launches his ministry with a sign that says that the God who sent him is the God of overwhelming blessing. He is the Ridiculously Gracious Master. Jesus proclaims with 180 gallons of the best fruit of the vine that God’s Kingdom is a kingdom of generous blessing that exceeds even our wildest hopes. It is no wonder that those who were present put their faith in him.

And that’s it. That’s the point. There are no additions, there are no disclaimers. There’s no asterisk at the end of this first sign that says “some restrictions apply.” God is the God of extravagant blessing. Period.

"In this world you will have trouble,” Jesus will say later. Jesus isn’t blind to what he or his followers will face. He already knows about the cross. He already knows about the martyr’s death that many of his closest friends will face for his sake. He knows about the tragedies and the catastrophes that will befall his followers. He knows that life is hard and we live in a hard place. And it is because he knows that that his first sign says, “God bless you richly. God bless you to 11.