The Wedding at Cana

John 2:1-11

Jesus did this as the beginning of his signs at Cana in Galilee.

On the third day there was a wedding in Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples were also invited to the wedding. When the wine ran short, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” [And] Jesus said to her, “Woman, how does your concern affect me? My hour has not yet come.” His mother said to the servers, “Do whatever he tells you.” Now there were six-stone water jars there for Jewish ceremonial washings, each holding twenty to thirty gallons. Jesus told them, “Fill the jars with water.” So, they filled them to the brim. Then he told them, “Draw some out now and take it to the headwaiter.” So, they took it. And when the headwaiter tasted the water that had become wine, without knowing where it came from (although the servers who had drawn the water knew), the headwaiter called the bridegroom and said to him, “Everyone serves good wine first, and then when people have drunk freely, an inferior one; but you have kept the good wine until now.” Jesus did this as the beginning of his signs in Cana in Galilee and so revealed his glory, and his disciples began to believe in him.

Discussion Questions: 

1. Do you think marriage is a good metaphor for the relationship between God and God’s people? Why or why not? What truths are being taught by this metaphor?
2. When have you been asked to serve the needs others before you felt ready, or the timing wasn’t good for you? How did you respond?
3. Jesus performed this miracle before he was ready. What does this reveal to you about the nature of divine love?

4. Where in your life have you experienced “the wine running out” and God transforming emptiness into fullness? What were the circumstances and what change took place?

Biblical Context

 Sr. Mary M. McGlone CSJ
John 2:1-11

Each year on the Sunday after the celebration of the Baptism of the Lord, we start Ordinary Time with a reading from the beginning of the Gospel of John. Today the church invites us to meditate on the first of Jesus’ signs, the wine at Cana. On the face of it, the Gospel offers a good story to begin what this year will be four short weeks before the beginning of Lent. John presents Mary, Jesus, his disciples, and a small cast of characters who get to taste the miracle of ordinary water turned into fine wine. The incident lets us know that we are about to begin an extraordinary journey of seeing Jesus in action and being challenged to respond to who he is and what he offers. But we should know that the Gospel is always going to offer us more than what appears at face value — especially when it is the Gospel of John.

If we would start this reading at the beginning of John 2:1, we would learn that this took place on the “third day.” The point of that phrase is not about a day of the week. It is an allusion to the day of salvation (Hosea 6:2). John also subtly depicts this as the sixth day of Jesus’ activity; with that, he refers back to Genesis and the ongoing work of God. This day is the crown of creation.

As John sets up the story, the first person to appear is “the mother of Jesus.” She doesn’t get named, not here or anywhere in John’s Gospel, because she plays a role more symbolic than personal. John presents Mary as being at the wedding before Jesus arrived. Being at the wedding, a symbol of the old covenant indicates that Mary is coming from the spiritual locus of that covenant. As a representative of faithful Israel, she sees that the wine has run out and turns to Jesus, the Messiah she awaits. She simply presents the predicament.

John uses every detail of the story to illuminate the problem. There are six jars, one short of the perfect number of completions. The jars are made of stone, reminding readers of their covenant written in stone — and perhaps their own hearts of stone. The less-than-full jars are for the water of purification. The constant need for purification is a sign of the fragility of the people’s relationship with God; an ongoing focus on the need for purification is emblematic of a fixation on the law and the unworthiness it proves. (See Romans 7.) Thus, with just the presentation of the jars, John has symbolically portrayed the debility and inadequacy of the old covenant with its tendency to lead people to focus on themselves and their weakness rather than on the greatness of God’s love. This shortage-plagued celebration is not the wedding feast for which the people longed.

When we come to the interaction between Jesus and his mother, we discover additional dimensions of John’s theological storytelling. Jesus’ first response is translated as “Woman, how does your concern affect me?” “Woman” is not a common way for a son to address his mother, although it was used as the address of a husband to his wife. There are three women in this Gospel whom Jesus will address in this way: his mother (2:4, 19:26), the Samaritan (4:21) and Mary Magdalene (20:13). Respectively, they represent Israel the faithful spouse, unfaithful Israel called to and embracing conversion, and the people as spouse of the new covenant in the garden of the new creation.

This wedding, with everything that it lacks, symbolizes the old covenant. Jesus’ question is one of asking why the empty rituals of the past should matter to the faithful: Why should he or she mourn what is coming to an end? He is not about to try to revitalize the old, but his “hour” has not yet come — the time of the new has not yet been completed. Then, in the next sequence of action, we discover Mary as a prophet and companion of other Gospel women who were not afraid to push their point. She does not reply to him but turns to the servants. She tells them to obey anything he says using words that remind us of Israel making her first vow of obedience during the Exodus (19:8), saying, “Everything the Lord has said we will do!” With that, Jesus performs his first “sign,” beginning to fulfill the covenant he will complete on the cross (John 19:30).  As in every Gospel story, we have found the whole in this one part.

 They have no wine

Reflection
John 2:1-11
Fr. Michael K. Marsh

“They have no wine.” With those words Mary speaks a truth about our lives, a truth that at some point we all experience. There comes a day when the wine gives out. The glass is empty. The party is over. On that day life seems empty and dry. There is no vibrancy or vitality. Nothing is growing or fermenting within us. Our world is colorless and tasteless. The bouquet of life is absent and we are living less than fully alive.

Mary’s words hold before us some serious questions and wonderings. Where has the wine of our life given out? What relationships have run dry? What parts of us remain empty?

Each one of us could tell a story about the day the wine gave out. It might be about the death of a loved one or the loss of a friendship or marriage. Some will speak about their search for love and acceptance. Some will describe their thirst for meaning and significance. Others will tell of their guilt, disappointments, or regrets. Many of the stories will be about fear of what is or what might be. Stories of failure and self-doubt abound. Some will describe a longing and desire for something they cannot name or describe. The storyline of unanswered prayer, doubts, or questions is known by most. They are not all stories from the past, however. Some of us are living those stories today.

Despite our best efforts, good intentions, and hard work, however, it seems that the wine of our life is always giving out. No matter how often we refill it our glass remains empty. There is never enough wine. As the day wears on we become increasingly aware that we cannot replenish the wine from our own resources.

Too often we live with the illusion of our own self-sufficiency. That illusion is shattered on the day the wine runs out and the jars of our life stand empty and dry. That day confronts us with a new truth as old as creation itself. We are the recipients and not the creators of our life. We were never intended nor expected to live by the sufficiency of our own resources. Christ is the true vintner and chief steward of our lives.

Regardless of how it feels or what we think about it, the day the wine runs out is the beginning of a miracle. Christ does not simply refill our glasses. He transforms our lives, turning water into wine. It is, after all, the third day, the day of resurrection and new life. That which was colorless is now vibrant red. That which had no taste now tingles the tongue. That which had no fragrance now has a full bouquet. That which had no life is now fermenting, active, and alive.

On the third day our lives are filled to the brim with the good wine; intoxicating us with the life of God, inebriating us with the blood of Christ, and leaving us under the influence of the Holy Spirit. That’s the miracle at Cana and it has never ceased happening. Every moment of every day Christ pours himself into the empty jars of our life. He is the good wine; extravagant, abundant, endless.

Every time that good wine is poured our lives are changed and transformed. We are brought “out of error into truth, out of sin into righteousness, out of death into life”. I don’t know how it happens. I only know that it does happen.

I have experienced moments when death is turned into life, sorrow into joy, and despair into hope. I have seen that happen in the lives of others. I have been surprised by fear that was transformed into courage and seen people do things they never thought possible. I have watched empty lives be filled back up. I know of broken marriages that became vibrant and life-giving. I have tasted the good wine. I have experienced the miracle at Cana in my life and seen it in the lives of others.

Those and a thousand others like them are the miracles of Cana. Those are moments Christ’s glory is revealed and we are illumined, shining with the radiance of his glory. His glory becomes ours, two lives one glory.

“They have no wine,” Mary said. But they will. The miracle always begins when the wine gives out.

Reflection Excerpt from: Interrupting the Silence Fr. Michael K. Marsh. Used with permission https://interruptingthesilence.com