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Cana Wine
By Irene Zimmerman, SSSF
By Irene Zimmerman, SSSF
“The weather’s so hot and no more wine’s to be bought in all of Cana!
It’s just what I feared . . . just why I begged my husband to keep the wedding small.”
“Does he know?” Mary asked.
“Not yet. Oh, the shame!
Look at my son and his beautiful bride!
They’ll never be able to raise their heads again, not in this small town.”
“Then don’t tell him yet.”
Mary greeted the guests as she made her way through crowded reception rooms.
“I must talk to you, Son,” she said unobtrusively.
Moments later he moved toward the back serving rooms. They hadn’t seen each other since the morning he’d left her . . . before the baptism and the desert time.They could talk tomorrow on the way to Capernaum.
She spoke urgently, her words both request and command to him: “They have no wine.”
But he hadn’t been called yet! He hadn’t felt it yet. Would she send him so soon to the hounds and jackals? For wine?
Was wine so important then?
“Woman, what concern is that to you and me? My hour has not yet come.”
Her unflinching eyes reflected to him his twelve-year-old self telling her with no contrition: “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”
She left him standing there . . . vine from her stock, ready for fruit bearing . . . and went to the servants. “Do whatever he tells you,” she said.
From across the room she watched them fill water jars, watched the chief steward drink from the dripping cup, saw his eyes open in wide surprise.
She watched her grown son toast the young couple, watched the groom’s parents and guests raise their cups.
She saw it all clearly: saw the Best Wine pouring out for them all.
Look at my son and his beautiful bride!
They’ll never be able to raise their heads again, not in this small town.”
“Then don’t tell him yet.”
Mary greeted the guests as she made her way through crowded reception rooms.
“I must talk to you, Son,” she said unobtrusively.
Moments later he moved toward the back serving rooms. They hadn’t seen each other since the morning he’d left her . . . before the baptism and the desert time.They could talk tomorrow on the way to Capernaum.
She spoke urgently, her words both request and command to him: “They have no wine.”
But he hadn’t been called yet! He hadn’t felt it yet. Would she send him so soon to the hounds and jackals? For wine?
Was wine so important then?
“Woman, what concern is that to you and me? My hour has not yet come.”
Her unflinching eyes reflected to him his twelve-year-old self telling her with no contrition: “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”
She left him standing there . . . vine from her stock, ready for fruit bearing . . . and went to the servants. “Do whatever he tells you,” she said.
From across the room she watched them fill water jars, watched the chief steward drink from the dripping cup, saw his eyes open in wide surprise.
She watched her grown son toast the young couple, watched the groom’s parents and guests raise their cups.
She saw it all clearly: saw the Best Wine pouring out for them all.
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