Today’s gospel lectionary reading brings us to a familiar and well-loved story: the wedding at Cana (John 2:1-11). Weddings are joyous occasions. They brim with celebration, hope, and the anticipation of a new chapter in life.
I have written and reflected on this wedding several times as it holds a unique place in the gospel narrative. Yet, it feels right to return to it again and again because it is foundational. This is the moment where Jesus’ public ministry begins—a pivotal scene that sets the stage for the journey ahead. It’s also a key text for exploring feminist theology and the role of women in scripture because Mary is a central figure in this story.
The gospel doesn’t specify who was getting married, but there are hints. The mother of Jesus appears to play the role of host, suggesting the wedding involved a close male relative, perhaps a brother or cousin. Cultural context provides further clues. In Jewish tradition, the groom’s family was responsible for hosting the feast. Weddings of that time were deeply rooted in social and economic transactions: marriages marked the transfer of a bride from her father’s household to her husband’s, often accompanied by negotiations of property, gifts, and wealth.
The preparation for marriage could take over a year, with the groom building a bridal chamber within his father’s home. Meanwhile the bride would take part in ritual cleansings. The timing of the wedding was determined by the groom’s father, and the bride wouldn’t always know the exact day. This uncertainty led to the tradition of trumpet blasts and shouts to announce the groom’s arrival.
Once the ceremony concluded, the groom’s family hosted a feast—a grand event meant to display their status and hospitality. To run out of food or wine would be a source of deep shame and public disgrace.
Returning to the text, it’s clear that Mary is at the center of the narrative. When the wine runs out, the servants turn to her. Her pivotal role highlights her agency, though John’s gospel notably omits her name, identifying her only as “the mother of Jesus.” This is, unfortunately, common for women in scripture—defined only by their relationships to men rather than as individuals.
Another notable detail is the apparent affluence of this wedding. It’s easy to think of Jesus’ family as poor, but Joseph, a carpenter, was a skilled tradesman, and this account suggests a certain level of means. The presence of servants, stewards, and the free-flowing wine indicates a celebration of some scale.
Now, I want to return to the heart of the story: the miraculous turning of water into wine. I want to focus on the exchange between Jesus and his mother which is fascinating. This conversation is a clear indication that Joseph had already died. As the eldest son, Jesus would be the head of the household and thus the one to take responsibility for the feast. When Mary alerts Jesus to the problem, strangely he replies, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” It’s an enigmatic response. On the surface, Jesus seems reluctant to intervene. Yet Mary remains undeterred.
She doesn’t argue or plead but simply tells the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” In that moment, Mary demonstrates remarkable faith and insight. She knows it is the right time, even if Jesus hesitates. And in an act of quiet submission to her wisdom, Jesus performs the miracle.
The transformation of water into wine wasn’t just a solution to a social faux pas; it marked the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. Mary, often remembered for birthing and nurturing the Christ child, is now the one who recognizes and reveals the moment for the ministry to begin. Her role is not peripheral—it’s central.
This story reminds us of the essential contributions of women in scripture, even when their names go unspoken. It challenges us to honor Mary not only as the mother of Jesus but also as a woman of vision, courage, and faith. She knew the significance of the moment and helped unlock the door for Jesus to step into his calling.
