He knows what she wants but he’s not feeling ready. He tells her it’s not time to reveal his glory and suffer the consequences. The wine he could make would be free to the guests but cost him plenty.
Mary marches right over to the serving table as if he’d said ‘no problem’ instead of ‘no way.’ She once said a costly yes; she’s not about to take no for an answer from him.
Because they have no wine.
It’s human history she’s talking about. Life’s disappointed guests have been milling around with empty glasses from time immemorial. She’s waited long enough for the mighty to fall, for the poor to dance at the wedding, for the kingdom’s elixir to flow. Three Persian potentates once bent their knees to him. Why is he still knocking out chairs and cabinets in Nazareth? She wants him out of the house.
He gives in and produces liquid heaven in preposterous quantities. He squanders it on us, the undeserving who can’t distinguish rotgut from Rothschild. He becomes the wastrel we need him to be.
Thank you, Mary.
When we are reluctant to act on our callings, O God, send Mary to remind us, “They have no wine.” Get us out of the house.