Three mysteries mark this holy day: today the star leads the Magi to the infant Christ; today Christ wills to be baptized by John in the river Jordan to bring us salvation; today water is changed into wine for the wedding feast.

So I guess you could say that today is “Epiphany: Part 3”! The wedding feast at Cana – what’s it all about?  What does it have to tell us?  The details are sketchy – a young couple, obviously friends or acquaintances of Jesus and Mary; the wine giving out before the party was over; the miraculous transformation of six 100-litre stone jars of water into a fine, strong wine “better than what came before.”  There's clearly something more going on here, something that John – the only one of the Evangelists to recount this story – is trying to communicate to us.  What might this be?

The wedding feast of Cana is one of those texts so rich in meaning and symbolism that many interpretations have been given to it over the centuries: 

• Those with a special devotion to Our Lady see in this Gospel a reflection of Mary's maternal concern, an example of her ability to intercede with her Son on our behalf. 
• At a time when the Church was questioning whether marriage should be recognized as a state of holiness, a sacrament, this Gospel was invoked as evidence of Christ blessing the institution of marriage in a special way. 
• Others see this Gospel as simple evidence that Jesus was a person who loved a good party, who wanted people to celebrate with music and dancing and joy and merriment.

These interpretations all have a certain attraction, depending on where we're coming from, and each is worthy of reflection.  But if we want to understand what is really happening at Cana, we need to look at the interpretation John himself gives to these events.  Immediately after the transformation has taken place, John makes this comment: "Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory, and his disciples believed in him."

Each word is important.  John never talks in his Gospel about "miracles", but about "signs".  His focus is not so much on the details of what happened, but on its meaning, its purpose: to reveal the glory of Jesus, his true identity as the One sent by God, and to lead people to believe in him.  Most scholars believe that John's Gospel was the last to be written down.  Those who heard it were probably already familiar to a certain extent with the stories Matthew, Mark and Luke has reported: Jesus’ basic teachings and parables, his exorcisms and healings, his death and Resurrection.  But they wanted to know "Why?" What significance did these events have for them? How did they lead them into deeper belief, a closer following of Jesus themselves?

In this light, Jesus’ gesture becomes far more than just a practical response to a concrete need of more wine for a feast, a way of helping a young couple and their families save face.  It is a gesture of extravagance, expressing God’s reckless prodigality.  It reveals a God who is not cheap with his gifts - who pours them forth liberally, with no danger of running out.  (If you've ever gone to a big Italian wedding reception, you know what I'm talking about!)  For the Jews of Jesus' time, this abundance was a sign of the coming of the Messiah, of God's fulfilment of his promises.

But then John adds another interesting detail.  This wine is not the same wine as before: it is better, heartier, finer wine; it is a new wine.  The jars of water set aside for ritual purification, for making oneself clean and worthy in the sight of God, represent the Old Law.  They are transformed by Jesus into new wine, God's superabundant mercy and love poured out freely, without reserve, with more than enough for everyone.  It is not reserved for one people alone, but is available to all who respond to Christ’s invitation to discipleship and inner transformation.  It is what Isaiah describes in today's first reading as seeing oneself no longer as "forsaken" or "desolate", but rather as “delighted-in” and “espoused”.  As the mutual love of spouses transforms both the lover and the beloved, so too the love of God offered in Jesus has the power to transform us.

And if we have been transformed, it needs to show in our lives, its effects need to be shared with others.  This is what St. Paul is getting at in today's second reading: no matter who we are, no matter what gifts or talents we have received, we are called to use what we have been given for the common good, for the building up of the community.  “We are many parts, we are all one Body; and the gifts we have, we are given to share.”

No one gift, no one way of praying, no one way of being Church is inherently superior, so long as unity in the Lord, in God's Spirit is maintained.  The Church is enriched by the diversity of these gifts, is called to rejoice in this diversity, in the same way that a marriage or a family is enriched by the different strengths, gifts, personality, experience that each one brings, as long as these are being used to build a deeper love and unity.

This connects beautifully with the theme of this year’s Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, which begins this weekend: “Called to proclaim the mighty acts of the Lord.”  Drawn from the 1^st letter of Peter, it reminds us of the common call we have all received as Christians in baptism: to bear witness, in word and in deed, to the God who is at work in and through us, drawing us in his mercy from darkness to light:  

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, called to proclaim the mighty acts of the One who called you out of darkness into his marvellous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy. (1 Peter 2:9-10)

Through hearing the call to be God’s chosen race, and in receiving the power of God’s salvation in Jesus Christ, we become God’s people. This reality is expressed in Baptism: we die to sin, in order to rise with Christ to a new life of grace in God. It is an ongoing challenge daily to remain aware of this new identity in Christ. How do we understand our common call to live as “God’s people”? Do we live in a way that expresses our baptismal identity as a “royal priesthood”?

Baptism opens up an exciting new journey of faith, uniting each new Christian with God’s people throughout the ages. The Word of God – the Scriptures on which Christians of all traditions pray, study, and ponder – is the foundation of a real communion. In these shared sacred texts, we hear of God’s saving acts in history, culminating in the raising of Jesus from the dead, which opened new life to all of us.  Through our prayerful reading and study of the Bible, we too are called to recognise the mighty acts of God at work in our own lives, here and now.  How do we see and respond to these “mighty acts” of God in our lives: in prayer and worship, in our work for justice and peace, in our care for creation?  Do we treasure the Scriptures as God’s living Word, calling us to unity in mission?

Just because we are God’s chosen people does not make us better, more privileged, holy, or virtuous than others. We are chosen in order to fulfil God’s purpose. We live our call to be when we are committed to God’s service, bringing his love to all people. Being a priestly people means being in service to the world. Christians live this baptismal calling and bear witness to God’s mighty acts in many ways: by healing wounds; by seeking forgiveness for the obstacles we have placed in the way of genuine reconciliation and healing; by searching together for truth and unity; and by an active commitment to the dignity of every human person and through care of creation as our common home. As we consider our commitment to Christian unity, for what do we need to seek forgiveness? Do we act as channels of God’s mercy by engaging in works of charity and justice in cooperation with other Christians?

Each one of us has a gift to share: a “manifestation of the Spirit, given for the common good”.  When we share those gifts readily, the miracle of Cana is reproduced in our lives, if we let it.  Each day, the Lord takes the water of our lives – the simple gifts of our humanity, even our faults, imperfections, and sins – and transforms us, changes us into a fine wine, bringing joy and peace and celebration to those who taste God through us. As Jesus used water, the simplest and most basic of realities, he is equally able to use the simple, basic realities of our lives to transform us into a fine vintage.

I’d like to conclude with the profound words of Malcolm Guite, drawn from his liturgical poem Epiphany at Cana:

Here's an epiphany to have and hold,

 A truth that you can taste upon the tongue,

 No distant shrines and canopies of gold

 Or ladders to be clambered rung by rung,

 But here and now, amidst your daily living,

 Where you can taste and touch and feel and see,

 The spring of love, the fount of all forgiving,

 Flows when you need it, rich, abundant, free.

Better than waters of some outer weeping,

 That leave you still with all your hidden sin,

 Here is a vintage richer for the keeping

 That works its transformation from within.

 'What price?' you ask me, as we raise the glass,

 'It cost our Saviour everything he has.