Lessons from Cana

Perhaps the most curious aspect of the wedding feast at Cana (Jn 2:1-12) is the exchange between Mary and Jesus.  If we read it closely, we discover much out about Mary, about Jesus, and about ourselves.

In Jesus’ day, a wedding feast was a glorious affair, perhaps lasting a week or more.  At the feast, the groom lavishly provided for his guests in what would be the biggest social event of his life.  In a society which prided itself on hospitality, his reputation as a good host and a good provider would be made – or broken – on this single occasion.  To run out of wine in mid-feast would be the ultimate disaster.

Mary and Jesus are simply guests at this feast – they have no responsibility for seeing that things go well.  Yet Mary notices the lack of wine even before the host is aware of it and she takes action – she goes to the one who she knows can do something about it.  She’s not quite sure what he can do, but she is confident he can do whatever it takes.

And then comes the curious part.  She goes to Jesus and he seems to be insulting her.  “Woman, what does this concern of yours have to do with me?  My hour has not yet come.”  To our modern ears, this seems more than a bit cold.  I can imagine my own mom’s response if I replied to her like this.  Why would Jesus seem to be so demeaning and dismissive to his own mother?   But is he?  Jesus addresses Mary only one other time in John’s gospel.  He is hanging on the cross, looking down at his devoted mother and the beloved disciple mourning his suffering at the foot of the cross.  And he says:  “Woman, behold your son.”  And to the disciple, “Behold your mother.”  Obviously, the use of the term “woman” in Jesus’ culture was neither dismissive nor discourteous.

He is simply asking his mother why he should act now.  He knows that his “hour” – in John’s gospel this always refers to the hour of his death of the cross – has not yet come.  But still confident that “mom knows best,” and that Jesus will heed her request, Mary tells the waiters, “Do whatever he tells you.”

So what have we learned?  First, we see Mary as a model for our own behavior.  Attuned to the needs of those around her, she intercedes to alleviate those needs.  Just so, we must be oriented towards the other, selflessly looking to the needs of others and doing what we can to alleviate their distress.  Also confident in the power and benevolence of her son, Jesus, Mary goes to the one who can help in all things.  Just so, we must depend on Jesus for help in our greatest difficulties.  Finally, Mary directs the waiters, as she directs us, to listen to the one who has great power, who has great love, whose desire for each of us is to be one with him and with our heavenly father.  Do whatever he tells you.

Second, we see a Jesus who, in some mysterious way, is fully human as well as fully divine.  This is a critical, but sometimes glossed over, article of our faith.   We do not believe that God simply pretended to be a human being, as the Greek and Roman gods often did, so that he could teach us and interact with us.  We do not believe that Jesus, in his human nature, had the full knowledge and power of the divine second person of the trinity.  He had a fully human mind and a fully human soul.  To believe otherwise destroys the power of his life, the power of his suffering and death, the power of his resurrection.

When we see Jesus as a mortal human being, and then see how he suffered to live the life that he teaches us to live, we gain a deeper appreciation for how he wants us to live.  We are less likely to use excuses to compromise his teachings – he was God, he could do that; for us mere humans, it's too hard!"

When he tells us to love our enemies, to pray for those who persecute us, we listen and do not hear, “unless they do something really, really evil.”

When he teaches us to turn the other cheek, we listen and do not hear, “unless the other person hits you first.”

When he says we should feed the hungry, we listen and do not hear, “unless the lazy slug won’t get a job like the rest of us and feed himself.”

When he says to welcome the stranger, give shelter the homeless, we listen and do not hear, “unless they managed to get around the legal and physical barriers we put up to keep them in their place.”

When we stop compromising what Jesus teaches, when we simply do whatever he tells us, we become selfless and generous, loving and kind, much as Mary and Jesus are at the wedding feast.  We become, like the changing of the water in wine, a sign of God’s glory on earth, a sign that our God has brought salvation to our world.

Thus did Jesus reveal his glory, so his disciples might believe in him.  Thus do we reveal his glory, so the world might believe in him.