SECOND SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME C

[cappie]

Think of these first weeks after Christmas as a season of “epiphanies.” Indeed in the old calendar it was referred to as the Season after Epiphany.

 The liturgy is showing us now who Jesus is and what He has revealed about our relationship with God. Last week and the week before, the imagery was royal and filial—Jesus is the newborn king of the Jews who makes us coheirs of Israel’s promise, beloved children of God. Last week in the liturgy we went to a baptism.

This week we’re at a wedding.

  The first things the writer tells us is that Jesus’ mother is present at this wedding.  The father must have invited Mary’s son also,   Jesus comes to the feast together with the new friends he has very recently called   the group that will come to be known as his disciples.

The hosts run out of wine, but it is the mother of Jesus who goes to her own son and reports this: “They have run out of wine.” She doesn’t ask for anything, but the “do something about it” seems to be implied, because Jesus understands much more than she says. “Why should that concerns us?” Jesus asks her. More specifically, he asks, “Why should it concern you and me?” And then his next sentence reveals that his mother indeed is not just informing him; she is asking much more of him than just giving a report on the state of the feast. For he says, “My hour has not yet come.”  

Jesus   waits for God, not Mary, to reveal this hour.

Apparently, the time has come for the first sign of who he really is has arrived. He says to the servants to fill with water the large jars that stand at the entrance of the house ready for the household’s purification rituals. It is clear that these jars are used only for water. The servants must have thought: What is he doing? Is he going to fool the guests somehow? But who are we to question important guests? So, they do as they are told.

It must have taken quite a bit of time to fill the jars up. After all, they had no running water; they had to go to the well to draw it. When the jars are full, Jesus tells them: “Now draw some out of the jars and take it to the chief steward,” the man who is responsible for the approval and serving of the wine. The servants must be mystified. They know that the jars contain water, but now they see that the water has colour; it looks different from what they had drawn from the well.  

In the ritual manner of the wine steward, the man takes the beaker and tastes the liquid. His eyes must have shown his surprise. This is good stuff; we can hear him saying.

 He goes to the host. The man has served at many feasts and banquets and knows his wine. He tells the host: you have saved the best for the last.   You have reversed a time-honoured tradition. We are not told what the host thought or said.

The scene ends there. We are left to fill in the blanks. What John tells us is that the disciples – newly chosen, newly called – believed in Jesus as a result of this Epiphany. What John emphasizes is that this is the first sign that reveals that God’s presence is unhindered within Jesus: This is his glory. On an ordinary day when two young people are married, as they have done through the ages, a young man from Nazareth reveals that he has creative powers that can affect even nature. An Epiphany for us and for him. An uncovering that allows light to shine into a long creative process. An uncovering that shows us that his hour has come.

This is not magic. This is the true connection to the Creator. Every Epiphany is a moment of creation, even for us. Let us allow the Light to shine for us and through us to lead us to reveal God’s power to the weak, God’s love for the neglected, God’s mercy for all us, sinners.