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John 2:1-12
On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, "They have no wine." And Jesus said to her, "Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come." His mother said to the servants, "Do whatever he tells you." Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to them, "Fill the jars with water." And they filled them to the brim. He said to them, "Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward." So they took it. When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now." Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.

After this he went down to Capernaum with his mother, his brothers, and his disciples; and they remained there a few days.

COMMENTARY
Twice John tells us exactly where Jesus did the first of his signs. People and places make ministry real. Jesus' ministry is grounded in real places, real people, and real events. There is little need to speculate about a phantom God, with no more substance than a wisp of smoke. The wedding was as real as the kitchen, the six stone water jars, the bride, the groom, the guests, and Cana in Galilee.

PRAYER
Lord Jesus Christ, you seem to have been forced to begin your ministry before you were ready. Like a mother robin, your mother seems to have pushed you, ever so gently, into the public arena.

I wonder where and how you expected your signals to begin? It is surprising to see you caring about such a mundane problem -- a matter of inconsequence when set against the big problems of the world. It is surprising to see you and your disciples at the wedding as invited guests. Surely, you were too busy to come. Surely, there were far greater needs to attend to.

Lord, how am I to understand what you want from me, except to try to be where the need is greatest? Yet you simply took care of a little problem, as though that were an important enough matter on which to spend a rare miracle.

You made a lot of wine, Lord. Such abundance. Perhaps miracles aren't as rare as I suppose. Perhaps they are appropriate at places where the need isn't always critical.

But you see what this does? It makes it impossible to know when to expect a miracle. When is one due? Why does one person "get" a miracle when he wants one, and someone else doesn't?

No one really asked for a miracle, yet that was the solution you chose to solve the problem. I choose that too, Lord, but I can't make it happen. I don't have your power.

You knew, of course, that once you did a miracle things would never be the same for you again. You would be in demand. You would be noticed and talked about. (How did you do it, Lord? How are physical things under your control, just like spiritual things?)

I know that's not the point. I know that this is a diversion from seeing you as hospitable -- doing graciously what only you could do, suggesting that I do what only I can do in any situation.

Lord, like you, help me to give more than necessary. Teach me the art of hospitality. Give me such an interest in others, that their special moments become special to me, too. And when I am successful, at a real time, in a real place, with real people, may I remember that I learned this grace from you. Amen.