The Wedding at Cana

3. The Wedding at Cana

The fourth Gospel is presented as the testimony of the beloved disciple. We know him as John and we know that it is a text born after 70 years of meditation. Therefore, the author had time and means to develop well a text, perhaps in several editions. He was able to integrate, correct and complete the scheme well. Today we have the opportunity to read this symbolic literary text, genuinely precious for the Christian faith.

First, let’s see how it is composed. A prologue, that is, the famous prologue of Saint John, a lyrical text that was written last and I will explain it at the end of these lectures. At the end of the book, there is an epilogue with the account of the Easter appearance of Jesus at the Lake of Galilee, with the sign of miraculous fishing, but above all of the food offered to the disciples and the recognition of Peter.

In the middle of these two sections that open and close, the text is easily divided into two parts. Scholars usually speak of the ‘Book of Signs’ for part one and the ‘Book of the Hour’ for the second, and chapter 12 act as the central hinge. In the first part, the author recounts the signs performed by Jesus, a total of seven.

Starting with chapter 13, where chapter 12 acts as closing and opening, we find the paschal supper in which Jesus speaks for five chapters, and with a spiritual testament he leaves his teaching as an inheritance to the disciples. Then, the moment of the passion, of the resurrection, the fulfillment of glory in the hour of Jesus.

Let us consider, first of all, the first part. I said that in the first eleven chapters seven signs are narrated. The first is that of Cana; the second is again at Cana, the healing of a child who is about to die; the third the person with paralysis of Bethsaida; the fourth the sign of the loaves in the desert around the Lake of Galilee; the fifth the walk of Jesus on the water at night as a revelation of his divinity; the sixth is the miracle of the healing of the man born blind; and the seventh is the sign closest to reality: the friend Lazarus is called from the grave. The friend gives life to Lazarus, but to give his life to his friend Lazarus, Jesus loses his own life.

This is the main plot marked by a series of stories centered on the signs made by Jesus. Immediately after the prologue, which ends in the first chapter at verse 18, we find the beginning in prose. In verse 19, the author writes: “This is the testimony of John.” It seems the title of the book, but in reality, John is not the evangelist but the Baptist and in this part of the first chapter, we witness the passage from John the Baptist to Jesus.

An interesting detail is that repeatedly the episodes begin with a chronological indication: “The next day” in verse 29; “The next day” in verse 35; “The next day” in verse 43. It means that the narrator is creating a series of successive days. So, since they are the same indications three times, starting from the first episode, we are dealing with four successive days.

If we read the beginning of chapter two, which presents the wedding feast at Cana, we have an indication of “three days later.” We had four, plus three, we have a week. The Gospel of John begins with a series of episodes organized throughout a week. I repeat what I said before: The Gospel of John begins with a week. If you see that I insist, that I underline some expressions, it is because they should remind you of something else; and this is the symbolic process. This is how John does.

The reader must be attentive; if I repeat things two or three times, it is for you to take careful note of these particulars so that his meaning comes to mind. In the same way that the Gospel begins with the same expression as in Genesis: Ἐν ἀρχῇ’ = ‘En arjé’ = at the beginning and narrates a week, we also have an opening week here. Some days after, we read the passage from John the Baptist to Jesus, and a reference is made to the opening week of creation.

There is a new world that is beginning. The encounter with Jesus is a novelty, it is a new creation. According to the synoptic scheme, John also presents the Baptist as a penance preacher, but doesn’t stop at his job description as a preacher or baptizer. First of all, he presents him in dialogue with the authorities of Jerusalem. They ask him who he is, and John says that he is simply the voice; he is an envoy to prepare the way for the one who comes after him. The next day, Jesus also appears in the background, and John tells his disciples: “here is the Lamb of God.” Strange, original expression with which the Baptist presents the figure of Jesus to his disciples.

The next day, the Baptist’s disciples leave him to go after Jesus. Jesus stops, sees that they are following him, and asks these two: What are you looking for? These are the first word spoken by Jesus in John’s account. It is an important question. The question will come back two more times. Jesus will ask the soldiers who arrest him at the beginning of the passion: “Whom are you looking for?” And the Risen One, like the first word of the Gospel of John, he asks this question speaking to Mary Magdalene: “Woman, who are you looking for?” It is the same phrase with slight differences.

Did you notice the change? The first time there is a material object: “What are you looking for?”; the second time a person: “Whom are you looking for?”; the third time the plural becomes singular, and the question is highly personalized: “Who are you looking for?”

It is an itinerary that the reader must follow. We must be attentive to capture all the details because the beauty of the Gospel according to John, is precisely the wealth of meaning in every detail of the text, of the narration; every detail, every nuance must be appreciated and valued, memorized in such a way that as you continue reading, you may grasp the connection and appreciate the progression of the interpretation.

The disciples leave the Baptist and go after Jesus. He says that one of the two was called Andrew and the other is not named. It is precisely the fact of this reluctance that makes us think that he could be the author himself; a disciple of John the Baptist, he left that penitential preacher to go after Jesus. We do not find in the fourth Gospel the story of the call of the fishermen, but the call of the first disciples takes place on the banks of the Jordan, in the Dead Sea area, much further south, on the outskirts of Jerusalem.

Andrew talks with his brother Simon about this person they met and brings him to Jesus and that begins to constitute a group of disciples. The next day, Philip, who was from the same town of Andrew and Simon, Bethsaida, meet another named Nathanael, whom we know as the apostle Bartholomew, and he tells him: “We have found the messiah … he comes from Nazareth.” Bartholomew, a native of Cana, doubts that anything good can come from Nazareth and jokes about this identification and Philip can find nothing better than to repeat what Jesus said: “Come and see.”

An important invitation for the reader: enter, enter the text … you have to see for yourself, you have to know Jesus; you have to try to be with him, you must learn to know him, sharing his life, and then you will see. Bartholomew, who arrives in front of Jesus, is skeptical, but he is surprised. Jesus calls him by name and tells him that he had seen him under the fig tree. It is indeed an important detail, but we cannot say what it means. That detail was probably important to Nathanael. Jesus tells him: ‘I know you, I know you well … before you heard about me, I already knew you well.’ And Nathanael immediately confessed his faith: “You are the king of Israel, the son of God.” He calls him ‘rabbi,’ which is the term given to teachers. He recognizes in this man the teacher who can teach how to live. And Jesus comments, almost smiling, ‘It takes little for you to believe; you will see things bigger than this.’

Here is an important promise. The disciples who agree to follow him are promised to see great things, of “seeing the heavens open and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the son of man.” Remember Jacob’s ladder. In the book of Genesis, it is said that the patriarch had a dream in which there was a staircase, a large staircase, a ‘ziggurat,’ a stepped tower, an artificial mountain that served as a connecting ladder between earth and heaven and the angels of God, as messengers, they went up and down; they maintained contact between heaven and earth. Jesus tells the disciples: ‘You will see the Son of man, who is I, like Jacob’s ladder. The connection between heaven and earth.’

It is an important Christological announcement. Jesus is the connection; Jesus is the ladder by which God descends to earth so that man ascends from earth to heaven. On the third day, there was a wedding feast in Cana of Galilee. We have already considered four days. Slowly, John the Baptist leaves the scene, and Jesus becomes the protagonist. The disciples of the Baptist followed Jesus and withdrew from the Jordan region into Galilee.

The third day is the sixth day, because according to the way of counting of the ancients, we must always consider the starting point, so if we said there were four days, to count the third day, we must include the fourth, fifth, sixth, exactly like Sunday is the third day starting from Friday. It is not three days later; it is the third day of death. And one should count the third day from Friday saying: Friday, Saturday and Sunday. So, four-plus three, in this case, gives six. The detail is symbolic.

The sixth day in the history of creation is the day when God creates man. On what day did Jesus die? He died on Friday. Yes, but using the numbers, what day is Friday? Friday is the sixth day; the seventh is Saturday. Sunday is always the first day of the week, and Jews still call it ‘rishon’ = the first. Friday, the day of Jesus’ death, is the sixth day corresponding to the day when God created man. What does it mean symbolically? It means that John is writing a spiritual gospel and therefore, these details are underlined so that the reader understands that behind the coincidence of the day, there is a meaning.

The death of Jesus is the creation of the new man and the outpouring of the creative Spirit that renews humanity. But this great event that will happen to Jesus on the cross, in his death and resurrection, is symbolically anticipated at the beginning. The first sign performed by Jesus occurs on the sixth day of this initial week. It is a creative event; creates a novelty starting from a traditional base.

It is not the first miracle of Jesus. Many times it has been trivialized simply because of the catechism question: ‘What was the first miracle of Jesus? The wedding at Cana.’ It is not a question of first in chronological order. The Synoptics don’t even tell it. Even a child, if asked this question: What was the first miracle of Jesus? He could ask a counter-question: According to what evangelist? Because if we consider the Gospel according to Mark there are no weddings in Cana. So, the first miracle of Jesus is the liberation of a man possessed by demons in the synagogue of Capernaum. If one considers Matthew, we say that the first miracle is the cleansing of a leper when Jesus came down from the mount where he delivered the Sermon on the Mount. Changing the evangelist changes the perspective.

The reader must be intelligent. We are not reconstructing a hypothetical life of Jesus to be told in riddles. We are trying to understand theological texts, deeply literary and intelligent, that presupposes intelligent readers who do not trivialize the narrated events. So, what Jesus did during the wedding feast at Cana is not the first miracle but the archetype of signs. Notice that it is very different. He made Ἐν ἀρχῇ = ‘En arjé’ = the beginning of the signs; ἀρχῇ’ is the beginning, it is the origin, not just the first in a series; it is the main model of what Jesus does. It is a change, a transformation.

This wedding is not narrated in detail. We would like to know an infinity of details that are not mentioned. We are not told who is getting married; it says that the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples are also invited. They lack wine. At a feast, the lack of wine is a significant symbolic dimension, taking into account the meaning of wine, especially in the old covenant, is a sign of the law, celebration, and love.

That wedding at Cana is the symbol of the covenant between God and Israel. Jesus’ mother is not named by her name; it does not say that it was Mary, much less the Virgin. “There was the mother of Jesus.” Do you try to speak as the Gospel tells? Are you sure you are talking correctly? “There was the mother of Jesus who realized this lack and simply said: “they have no wine.” Jesus asks her in a strange way: “What’s between you and me, woman?” And he calls her ‘woman,’ an important symbolic term. The woman is part of the covenant.

It is the other part of the covenant: What do you have to do with me? How do you place yourself before me? The mother does not respond in theory but in practice by saying to the servants: “Do whatever he tells you.” It is the formula with which Israel at Sinai accepted the covenant: “What the Lord said we will do,” with the difference that here it is Jesus who says and the mother agrees to do everything that Jesus says. The mother is the faithful Israel, who realizes that there is no longer love in this marriage. It is not the specific case of the wedding couple at Cana; it is the marriage of the covenant. It is the story of this relationship between God and Israel, in which there is no longer substance, there is no longer joy, there is no love, and the work of Jesus is not a replacement but a fulfillment.

He does not create wine from scratch but asks the servants to fill six jars with water. They contained about a hundred liters each. These jars were used for the purification of the Jews. There were wells dug in the rock, in the stone, and filled with water to offer the possibility of washing hands and feet for ablutions before meals. Now that the feast is over, there is no more wine; there are many other problems, going back and filling those jars is a lot of work: 6 times 100 is 600 liters.

How many buckets of water do they have to draw from the well that is far away, for something that doesn’t make sense? The jars are 6 – again, the number 6. The number 6 is essential; being the sixth day of the creation of Adam, 6 is the number of man and the symbolic figure of humanity, of imperfection. They are made of stone, like the tables of the law, as the heart of the old man that needs renewal, of a spirit that changes the heart of stone into a heart of flesh, that writes the new law in the heart, not on the tables of stone.

From that water that was used for the purifications of the Jews, in six stone jars, Jesus offers excellent new wine. It does not say that all that water turns into wine. Only the servants know, having done what Jesus said; they brought the water turned into wine, to the steward. When he tests it, he says: ‘exquisite wine.’ The ‘archtriclino’ (in Latin), the steward, is in charge of the banquet. He is in charge; he is the figure of the heads of Israel, of those authorities who saw the work of Jesus, heard his words, but did not understand them. The steward calls the husband.

Who is the husband? The one who gave the wine. Who gave the wine? Jesus; the husband is Jesus. It does not come off the story because it is a game of figures, but the steward says to the husband: ‘You have saved the best wine until now, until this time! It’s a shame because now they are half drunk.’ Jesus’ sign is not to get the guests drunk, but to carry out the covenant by offering the best that reaches at the end.

The water of the purifications of the Jews becomes the excellent wine of the Eucharist, sign of the blood of Christ, but when will he give that wine? On the cross, with his blood. Then there will be the mother again; and again, at that time, Jesus will address her, calling her ‘woman’ and giving the mother to the disciple, passing from the old to the new covenant without discarding anything, bringing everything to fruition.

Thus Jesus made the archetype of signs. He showed his glory, he revealed who he was, and his disciples believed in him. The Gospel could end here. The whole Gospel is already here, but in archetype, that is, in synthesis, which will be told later. This is a symbolic method of reading the text; it does not take anything away from the historicity of the narrative, but it offers a great interpretation and the flavor of deep theological, spiritual significance, because John’s gospel is spiritual.