Water into Wine

The miracle at Cana - Jesus’ first recorded stunt, setting the tone for a ministry that would later involve feeding the hungry, curing the sick, and getting nailed to some timber by the Romans. But first, let’s talk about the wine - or rather, the scandalous absence of it.

Picture the scene: a wedding, guests in full swing, the booze running dry. A catastrophe by any civilised standard. Enter Mary, who, displaying that uniquely maternal ability to make someone else’s problem her son’s problem, nudges Jesus into action. His response? "Woman, what have I to do with thee?" - a phrase that, in modern parlance, translates roughly to "Mum, for God's sake, not now."

But he relents, and lo, six stone jars, normally reserved for ceremonial foot-dipping and other quaint hygienic rituals of the time, are filled with water and then - voila! - turned into wine. Not just any plonk, mind you. This was the good stuff. So good, in fact, that the steward of the feast took one sip and accused the host of a crime against hospitality - saving the best wine for last - a shocking break from tradition, as by then most guests were too pissed to notice.

Now, any sommelier worth their salt would have a few follow-up questions. What vintage? Was it a robust Galilean red with hints of pomegranate, or a cheeky white with notes of fig and divine intervention? We’re left to guess - a frustrating omission in an otherwise detailed account. And yet, the sheer complexity of transforming water into fine wine suggests a grasp of organic chemistry far beyond anything known at the time. Could this be evidence of divine insight, or perhaps something more... otherworldly? But the real miracle here isn’t the transubstantiation of tap water into Merlot. No, the real miracle is that Jesus, despite his newfound talent for celestial viticulture, never went into business.

Think about it. "Château Canaan – A Miracle in Every Bottle!" The branding writes itself. One heavenly press of the palm and - boom - your amphora is brimming with a fine vintage, no need for vineyards, crushing, or fermentation. Dionysus himself would be knocking on the door, begging for trade secrets. Instead, Jesus takes his skills on the road, healing the sick and exorcising demons, completely ignoring the fact that he could have cornered the first-century wine market and lived out his days in a lakeside villa, sipping the fruits of his labour.

Perhaps the takeaway here is that Jesus wasn’t in it for the money - a concept so alien to modern sensibilities that it might as well be a second miracle. Or maybe, just maybe, the real lesson of Cana isn’t about miracles at all - just the simple wisdom that when life gives you water, make wine. And if you can't, find someone who can.