but it is such a special occasion.
A celebration to remember.
"More wine?"
"More wine coming up..."
Except there isn't.
All the wine they could afford, has been drunk.
This will be so embarrassing for the family
and will cast a cloud over the entire celebration and marriage.
It will never be forgotten or forgiven.
"We have run out!" I whisper, miserably.
"You are joking!"
"Nope. I wish I was, except I wouldn't joke about running out of wine at a wedding.
That is the stuff of nightmares!"
We stand there stunned, unable to think of a solution,
As we mutter between us, one of the guests overhears our conversation,
observes the agitation we are doing our best to hide,
and goes and speaks quietly to a member of her family.
"Oh dear, that guest heard us! She has only gone and told her son... Soon everyone will start leaving, and there will be much wailing and accusations, recriminations and tears..."
"Maybe they have some wine they can lend us?"
"No, he is shaking his head. No rescue plan there, then."
The woman comes over to us, she has a calm expression on her face.
It is alright for her. It isn't her household that is about to become the talk of the town!
"Just do whatever he tells you," she says kindly, but cryptically.
I felt my voice rising, as the enormity of the problem began to sink in.
"What's he going to do? Tell us not to panic? Break into the neighbour's store and 'borrow 'some wine?"
"Shh! The son, Jesus, I think his name is, is heading this way..."
Jesus doesn't say much, just tells us to fill the purification jars with water.
Then stands to one side, watching.
"What is the point?
They are going to start weeping and wailing in a moment and we will have all the water we need to fill the jars!"
"Just do what he says."
"Why?" I replied, petulantly, wanting to burst into tears, but afraid to, knowing the tsunami of events I would trigger if I did.
"Because nothing will happen if we don't, but something might if we do!"
"Maybe they will all keep chatting and dancing and forget they have nothing to drink."
"Look, if we are filling the jars, they can't ask us for a drink. It will buy us a bit of time.."
I cannot fault this logic.
We fill the jars, Jesus, stands watching, looking pensive, as if he is having a conversation in his head. He doesn't speak until we have finished.
"Draw some from the stone jars, and take it to the Master of the Feast."
Jesus' face is calmly resolute.
We do not have the courage to remind him that it is just water
The Master of the Feast seizes the drink off us, like a man who has worked under the midday sun all day and is desperate to quench his thirst.
We dare not breathe,
waiting for the look of shock and subsequent splutterings and rantings
when he realises that we have handed him some water.
I was fully expecting him to spit it back in my face.
It doesn't happen.
Instead, he pauses,
a huge smile erupts across his face,
and his eyes take on a dreamy look.
"WoWWWW!" he declares finally, "Where have you been hiding THAT!?"
"Oh, it was just out the back, waiting for the right moment..."
"What vintage is it?"
"Quite a recent one..." I assure him, hoping to avoid further awkward questions.
More than satisfied with his drink, the Master of the Feast went to remonstrate with the unsuspecting Bridegroom
"Most people start with the best wine and wait until everyone is sufficiently merry before they serve the cheaper stuff. You, however, have saved the best until now.
Most unusual, but I will drink to that, and to a long and happy marriage!"
The Bridegroom had no idea what the Master of the Feast was talking about
and blamed the Master of the Feast's confusion on the drink.
He had no idea how right he was.
"How did it happen? How did water become wine?"
"I don't know, but it saved the day. If anyone asks, we will just say it was a miracle."
Meanwhile, Mary watched on and smiled, and treasured all this in her heart."
It will never be forgotten or forgiven.
"We have run out!" I whisper, miserably.
"You are joking!"
"Nope. I wish I was, except I wouldn't joke about running out of wine at a wedding.
That is the stuff of nightmares!"
We stand there stunned, unable to think of a solution,
powerless to prevent the disaster that is about to unfold before our very eyes.
"What are we going to do?"
"I have absolutely no idea! I wish I did!
"Does the boss know?"
"No, and I am not volunteering to be the one who spoils his big day."
As we mutter between us, one of the guests overhears our conversation,
observes the agitation we are doing our best to hide,
and goes and speaks quietly to a member of her family.
"Oh dear, that guest heard us! She has only gone and told her son... Soon everyone will start leaving, and there will be much wailing and accusations, recriminations and tears..."
"Maybe they have some wine they can lend us?"
"No, he is shaking his head. No rescue plan there, then."
The woman comes over to us, she has a calm expression on her face.
It is alright for her. It isn't her household that is about to become the talk of the town!
"Just do whatever he tells you," she says kindly, but cryptically.
I felt my voice rising, as the enormity of the problem began to sink in.
"What's he going to do? Tell us not to panic? Break into the neighbour's store and 'borrow 'some wine?"
"Shh! The son, Jesus, I think his name is, is heading this way..."
Jesus doesn't say much, just tells us to fill the purification jars with water.Then stands to one side, watching.
"What is the point?
They are going to start weeping and wailing in a moment and we will have all the water we need to fill the jars!"
"Just do what he says."
"Why?" I replied, petulantly, wanting to burst into tears, but afraid to, knowing the tsunami of events I would trigger if I did.
"Because nothing will happen if we don't, but something might if we do!"
"Maybe they will all keep chatting and dancing and forget they have nothing to drink."
"Look, if we are filling the jars, they can't ask us for a drink. It will buy us a bit of time.."
I cannot fault this logic.
We fill the jars, Jesus, stands watching, looking pensive, as if he is having a conversation in his head. He doesn't speak until we have finished.
"Draw some from the stone jars, and take it to the Master of the Feast."
Jesus' face is calmly resolute.
We do not have the courage to remind him that it is just water
The Master of the Feast seizes the drink off us, like a man who has worked under the midday sun all day and is desperate to quench his thirst.
We dare not breathe,
waiting for the look of shock and subsequent splutterings and rantings
when he realises that we have handed him some water.
I was fully expecting him to spit it back in my face.
It doesn't happen.
Instead, he pauses,
a huge smile erupts across his face,
and his eyes take on a dreamy look.
"WoWWWW!" he declares finally, "Where have you been hiding THAT!?"
"Oh, it was just out the back, waiting for the right moment..."
"What vintage is it?"
"Quite a recent one..." I assure him, hoping to avoid further awkward questions.
More than satisfied with his drink, the Master of the Feast went to remonstrate with the unsuspecting Bridegroom
"Most people start with the best wine and wait until everyone is sufficiently merry before they serve the cheaper stuff. You, however, have saved the best until now.
Most unusual, but I will drink to that, and to a long and happy marriage!"
The Bridegroom had no idea what the Master of the Feast was talking about
and blamed the Master of the Feast's confusion on the drink.
He had no idea how right he was.
"How did it happen? How did water become wine?"
"I don't know, but it saved the day. If anyone asks, we will just say it was a miracle."
Meanwhile, Mary watched on and smiled, and treasured all this in her heart."
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