The mother is Jesus was there… “Do whatever he tells you.” John 2:1,5
It might have been a neurotic’s paradise,
With all that water there for endless washing.
The catering shaky, and most of us wondering
What sort of promise such a beginning held
For the couple’s days and years. And then the wine
ran out, clean out. What do you say – “One always
likes to be moderate at this affairs?” –
When what you mean is, “There’s more need than they
can possibly provide for.” Anyhow,
after a while they gave us wine in flagons,
the kind of thing it was a privilege
to drink or think about. I still don’t know
where they found it, how they bought it, why
they kept it until then. I do remember,
late in the piece, a man who made some toasts
and drank as if he meant them, and then left,
His mother looking thoughtful: that, and the jars
for water, and the way they seemed to glow.
∼ Peter Steele SJ: Marching on Paradise p.37
Let us pray:
we thank you for inviting us to your table,
for here you show us our lives:
the daily bread of our work and care,
the wine of delight pressed from the fruits
of our creativity and our brokenness.
We celebrate the life that is ours,
the life that is precious in your sight.
We celebrate the life that is yours, pattern of reality for us.
We celebrate the life that is love revealed,
love given and received, love that is lived.
∼ Cf Kathy Galloway in Celebrating Women p.100