The wedding at Cana

Source: John 2:1-11

Lord, why were you invited here?
Who are these friends who wanted you and your followers as witnesses?

It's funny to see you enjoying yourself, taking pleasure in the guests' company: basically being human.
Having been like us and blessed us for what we were.

Pour me some of that wine, please: the wine free of trouble and suffering, free like the rain from heaven, with no price to be paid.
And, Lord, tell me: Why did you do it using water to be used for purification, water that had not yet washed away a single impurity?

Let me ask you: Isn't that the way people go about seeking you?
I'm seeking you.

Why do the servers know? And why do the judgers not know, to the point of making errors of judgement?
The ones who knew were the ones who filled the jars with water, and the steward who tasted that wine.

Six jars of water for purification. A known quantity: 40 litres per jar; 240 litres of wine. In those days, wedding celebrations traditionally lasted for five days. You must have arrived on the third day, because they had already run out of wine. Assuming people drank enough wine to attain a tolerable festive glow, there would have been 240 guests each day. A really big celebration!
On that third day, you had only five disciples, plus yourself. Like the six jars. And your blood had not yet washed away a single impurity.

Lord, the wine I can serve you at my table is the fruit of the vine. The work of human hands. Best are the wines of excellence, skill and tradition. Fruitfully light or bubbling with meaning, they are the poetry that creation inspires us to write. Your creation; your Father's creation.

But your wine, Lord, is a wine of glory. A wine of blessing. When I die, that's the wine I'd like to be offered at your table. Not the other wine. Not the wine that redeemed us and washed away our impurities with your suffering. How could I agree to let you pay with suffering, when the joy you offer is free?
I will not take part in that offence. Please, keep me a glass of the wine from Cana, and then my eternal life will be yours.
Let me drink it with you: I've been waiting for you, and my heart is thirsty.

And then, since I won't have been washed, let nothingness blot out every trace of my existence. What does it matter, since your Spirit will keep my joy?

How can a person take responsibility for the suffering of people you love?

Across the mist of years, I try to glimpse the butterflies that swirled through the rags of time.
A celebration: two beings united.