Becoming His Story. Mary-Elsie Wolfe

wine. But you have kept the best until now!”

      This miraculous sign at Cana in Galilee was the first time Jesus revealed his glory. And his disciples believed in him. (John 2:1–11)

      Mary put stake in the son whose actions she had pondered in her heart (Luke 2:19).

      She put stake in what was beyond herself and her own assessment. Mary put stake in Jesus. For Mary, a social community event seemed fitting to make her request.

Mary understood the dilemma faced by the wedding hosts. She understood the social ramifications of running out of wine and was moved to action. In fact, “Mary did not underestimate herself because of gender bias. Her action influenced Jesus to supply the need and the servants to obey Jesus.”29

      As was the case then and is usually the case in even much of our contemporary culture, weddings are celebrations with family and friends being treated as special. We can’t necessarily relate to the social pressure or expectations in this story, but we can relate to the excitement—the fun of being with friends and family celebrating a couple’s love for each other. Wedding couples find pleasure in their guests’ enjoyment of their day.

      Personally, I enjoy giving wedding couples that pleasure. I especially enjoy giving that pleasure to my Italian friends and family! Perhaps you have participated in the seven- to eight-course meal that is usually offered at such weddings. After the several hours of eating, you demonstrate your version of the bunny hop, flex with exaggeration to “YMCA,” and top it all off with a round of “Macarena.” Thankfully, after all that exercise you are usually offered pizza and pastries before the drive home!

      Mary, the disciples, and Jesus were privy to that kind of party within a different context. Running out of wine within her social framework was probably comparable to running out of food at some Italian weddings. Mary felt compassion for her hosts, an emotion that drove her to resolve the problem. She didn’t know the answer herself, but she knew enough about Jesus to know that she could bring their concerns to him. Once she did, she could trust him with the outcome. She acted on what she knew.

      One day my five-year-old was lying in bed with me, chatting about her life so far, when she reflected on her pre-birth and birth. Among her many questions and comments was one about being in my stomach. “I remember when I was in your stomach,” she said. “I believe that I had to reach up and take food as it went by me, and that’s how I ate.” Well, it made sense. Babies are in mommies’ tummies, and food passes through mommies’ tummies. By her assessment, a little baby in a mommy’s tummy must have to fend for herself!

      What my daughter understood was based on the information she had. The stages of a baby’s development, protective embryo, breakdown of nutrition, and isolation from mom’s digestive track were not part of her equation, and therefore her full understanding was hindered. There is a risk in drawing firm conclusions on limited information. As a mom, I was impressed by her imagination, but what my five-year-old concluded was somewhat faulty.

      Mary had a much greater pool of experience and certainty in her actions. She had known Jesus his whole lifetime on earth. She was confident that if she believed in Jesus and urged others to do the same, he could accomplish infinitely more than they might ask or think (Eph. 3:20). Her step of faith in her son would bring results beyond human assessment and ability.

      Mary simply states the problem in verse 3: “They have no more wine.” Jesus replies, calling his mom “woman,” a fully acceptable form of address at the time.

      His questioning why this should be her concern is intriguing. Jesus is drawn into her compassion for those hosting them, and he honours her faith. What is notable and encouraging to us is that by her faith came Jesus’ first recorded miracle, one that happened even after Jesus first responded with “My time has not yet come.”

      The interaction exemplifies what Jesus says in Matthew 7:7: “Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you.” It certainly makes us wonder about prayer. Would the same events have happened had Mary not asked? It demonstrates for us how the “asking” and Jesus’ response are somehow woven together to demonstrate our partnership in what he is actively doing. It also demonstrates how Mary’s faith allowed God’s intervention with Mary not fully knowing where that step would lead.

      What is further noteworthy for us is that the actions of Jesus provide layers of depth—even foreshadowing his destiny and the symbolism of his death.

      As we read the Gospels, we quickly discover that Jesus represents himself as the new wine. It is recorded in the Gospels of Mark and Matthew that he speaks of his blood, represented by wine, as being the mediating reality between God and people.

      At the Last Supper, and as we remember each time we are given the opportunity for communion, Jesus said to his disciples when taking a cup of wine, “Drink from it, all of you; for this is my blood of the new covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins” (Matt. 26:27–28 NRSV).

      Imagine the questions asked by the disciples in this moment! What could Jesus mean by referring to his blood as a new deal? Why would Jesus want his disciples to think of their needed forgiveness from sin while drinking wine?

N. T. Wright asks us, “What’s your reaction to this extra-ordinary performance?”30 He then adds that 1,000 years of Jewish celebrations are drawn into one event. So we can ask ourselves, as we participate in communion or the Eucharist, are we giving ourselves full opportunity to “go back in heart and mind to the original setting,” to the wonder and the mystery and even the discomfort of this moment?31

Somehow, we can be immersed in its mystery. Followers of Jesus are invited to partake in the wine and bread, as they represent the forgiveness of sin and the gift of a new way of life. Wright explains, “Sin, a far greater slave master than Egypt had ever been, would be defeated in the way that God defeated not only Egypt but the Red Sea.”32 Creating wine for his first miracle was not by accident.

      When Mary called on Jesus at this wedding, whether she understood the full gamut of her actions or not, she gave her friends and family a preview of things to come. Mary’s request ended up working in perfect harmony with God’s plan for a new covenant—a new hope for the whole world!

      Not coincidently, Jesus takes the water jars normally used for purification rites—the vessels used for cleansing and giving freedom from dirt or filth—and transforms the cleansing water into new wine, just as Jesus is the new wine that brings freedom from the dirt and filth we carry in our lives, called sin. It may be of interest that Jesus’ first miracle involves water.

      Sherri Brown develops her case for the imagery of water from Jewish tradition through to the life of Jesus. As we’ll later see in the story of the Samaritan woman,

The water imagery in the Gospel of John reveals the power and presence of God uniquely embodied in Jesus as the Christ and Son of God, from incarnation to crucifixion and beyond into the lives of disciples across the ages.33

      We have to wonder whether Mary was thinking back to her Jewish traditions of how water represented deliverance when God parted the waters for his chosen people and how the prophets and psalmists carried that theme of praise in prose. Or how our spiritual quest is satisfied: “My soul thirsts for God, for the living God” (Ps. 42:2 NRSV; see also Ps. 63:1, 143:6).

      It’s impossible to know how much Mary was piecing together from her traditions. Mary’s attentiveness to Jesus, her quiet reflection through observation, and her memories of shepherds being led by angels to Jesus as a newborn, of Simeon declaring him the Saviour at 10 days old, and of wise men coming with gifts and worshipping him as a baby (Luke 2:8–15; Luke 2:25–28; Matt. 2:9) must have all