For one thing, I like to remember happy experiences, and one of them was the wedding at Cana. What a pleasant stroll it was, the day temperate, the path climbing gradually above palm trees of the valley, up to the vineyards. Birds were gossiping in the vineyards. The blue of the Jordan flashed through oleanders. The snowy top of Hermon sent out a string of flamingos.
At Cana, Mother greeted me. There were old friends among the guests. Miriam was beautiful, more beautiful than I remembered. I thought of Solomon’s song as I watched her, “Thou art in the clefts of the rock; let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice, for sweet is thy voice and thy countenance is comely...”
After we had eaten Mother came to me and said “there is no more wine... Miriam is distressed...a wedding without wine!” she exclaimed, gesturing toward the guests at their outdoor tables. Certainly it was Miriam’s day. I thought of our friendship through the years and I decided to change water into wine, a token to their youth and their happiness.
I called two of the servants.
“Fill the water pots with water...now empty them into the wine pitchers. There will be wine for everyone.”
“It’s good wine,” I heard someone remark.
Miriam thanked me and I hoped for acceptance on the part of everyone. A beginning has been made, perhaps a seal or symbol had been placed on my ministry. I tasted the wine on my lips as I walked to Peter’s. Before I had gone any distance Andrew and Phillip criticized the miracle. They said I could change a man’s soul as easily. They were afraid. Mother, walking with us, defended me and ridiculed them.
Alone, I struck out across a grain field where men were dismantling a tent; behind a stick fence donkeys brayed; day was closing behind its fence of clouds; I felt that the men dismantling their tent were also dismantling time.
Alone, the happiness of the wedding returned.
I tasted the wine.