There is much worthy of reflecting upon in today’s gospel (Jn. 2:1-11) which gives the account of our Lord’s first public miracle – the turning of water into wine and the wedding in Cana. We can see in the image of the couple running out of wine on their wedding day a symbol of the ending of the Old Covenant and the freshness of the New Covenant beginning with our Lord turning water into wine. We can see in Mary’s noticing of the wine running short a concern for the young (and probably poor) couple who will soon be greatly embarrassed by not being able to provide for their guests. The first step of true mercy is noticing needs and not being indifferent toward others in their plight. This is a good witness Mary gives us during this Year of Mercy.
What I was struck by in praying over this gospel passage was the depth of the relationship (and this word is important) between Jesus and his mother. Mary does not even need to ask. She knows her son and even if she does not know fully how everything will play out she knows who he is and why he has come. “They have no wine,” is all that she needs to say. Our Lord knows what she is implying, “Woman, how does your concern affect me? My hour has not yet come.” Our Lord acknowledges the truth of Mary’s concern and for a brief instant we are invited into this amazing and profound exchange between the sacred heart of Christ and the immaculate heart of Mary. Bl. John Henry Cardinal Newman had a phrase regarding the true place and moment of encounter and conversion in life: “Heart speaks to Heart”. “Fill the jars with water,” Mary responds. Jesus, who is God made man, acquiesces; “Draw some out now and take it to the headwaiter.” The water is turned into wine which nourishes and refreshes!
Heart can only speak to heart in the willingness to enter into relationship. New life (and even miracles) can occur only when we let go of isolation and fear.
When St. Francis began the great spiritual journey of his life he made a simple prayer to God for an “honest faith”. Part of having an “honest faith” is to live a personal relationship with Christ. We can relate to Christ in a multitude of ways but that does not make them fully honest and therefore life-giving. I can see Christ as a great human being worthy of admiration or a wise teacher whose lessons are worthy of my attention and learning. I can see Christ as the authentic human person. I can see Christ as a means to my personal well-being. There might be some truth to these viewpoints of Christ but they all fall short both of honest relationship and of who Christ is.
Christ is savior. This is the honest faith of the Christian and it is the most profound relationship any of us can have with Christ. When we know Christ as savior then we know him as the one who saves us from sin and death and the one who calls us to follow him wholeheartedly. Christ is savior and this is truth – pure and simple.
Faith can be life giving and even transformative only when it is lived in relationship with Christ. Ideas of Christ might be interesting and even satisfy for a time but it is only relationship with Christ that turns water into wine. Mary witnesses this for us. Heart speaks to heart.
We should all learn from St. Francis and pray for an “honest faith” – a faith willing to let heart speak to heart. Our hearts to the heart of our Savior and his sacred heart to our little hearts.
My father was brought up in a Presbyterian household although how staunch it was is open for debate. A story I once heard was of an exchange which occurred sometime after my father’s conversion when my two great aunts from Mississippi made a visit to my grandfather and grandmother. Noticing a little dust on the family Bible one aunt is said to have remarked, “Maybe if that Bible was not dusty, Jack would never have converted.” A number of years later my own aunt (my father’s sister) would tell these same two great-aunts, “Michael has decided to enter Catholic seminary and we are very proud.” The southern equivalent of drawing a line in the sand!
My mother did not grow up in affluence as my father did. Her childhood was spent in a small town in North Carolina. Nominally, I believe that she was raised Baptist but it seems that church was not a major factor in her younger years. She did once tell me that for a while she worked at a local Methodist retreat center frequented by the young (and then single) Billy Graham. “All the young ladies would swoon over him,” my mom once confided. She never said if she was one of the ones swooning. Right out of high school my mother left Brevard to work in book-keeping for a man who owned a number of hotels scattered around the southeast. Mr. Faw was a good man. He looked like Colonel Sanders, the founder of Kentucky Fried Chicken, and for the fun of it would sometimes dress like the fast food icon just to see people’s reaction. Mrs. Faw was of Eastern European descent and she once gave my mother an eighteenth century lithograph of the Virgin Mary holding the infant Jesus. My mother treasured this gift and today it hangs on my wall.
At one point (prior to marrying my father) my mother was sent to a hotel owned by Mr. Faw in Oak Ridge, TN. At that time it was the only hotel in the city and therefore the temporary residence of visiting scientists from all over the world who came to do work and research in the government-run laboratories. My mother met a wide variety of people those years and at one point was approached by the FBI to help keep tabs on a visiting couple that the government thought had Russian connections. For this effort my mother received a signed letter from J. Edgar Hoover thanking her for her service to her country. One scientist my mother met and became a good friend of was a Franciscan nun from the Northeast. She taught at a university and had come to Oak Ridge to do some research. She and my mother remained friends for many years and I do believe that her friendship and that of Mr. and Mrs. Faw were what helped my mother in recognizing the beauty of the Catholic faith which, in turn, enabled her to make the choice to become Catholic.
My father and mother each walked their own journey of life and of faith (like we all do) but through their journeys and their own reflecting on experiences (i.e. use of the illative sense) they both came to belief in God and in the Church. I do not know all the experiences that added up to their each making their choice for faith. I never will and that is probably for the best. There are some things rightly left between the soul and God alone. These are and will remain the missing jigsaw pieces of their own journeys but I must admit that I do take great delight when I hear a story or memory shared that sheds a little more light on the journey each one had. These insights bring me joy and, I believe, are gifts given to help us who remain to continue our own journeys of life and faith.
Some of the best advice I ever came across regarding homily preparation was in an essay written by Annie Dillard. In the essay Dillard made use of the imagery of following bees as a way of exploring the adventure of writing. If you want to find a bee hive (and honey) then follow a bee. If you lose sight of the first bee then wait and when you catch sight of another bee follow it. By so doing you will eventually be led to the bee hive. The same is true for writing. When an idea or thought, no matter how strange or non-sensical it seems at the outset, pops in your head then follow it. Let the thought lead you even if you do not know exactly where it is going. It may take you to where you want to go. If it takes you only so far then stay there and wait for the next thought.
Two things struck me as I prayed over the gospel this past week. The first is when Luke tells us that Mary entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. I found myself returning again and again to that scene in my imagination. How joy-filled it must have been! Mary stepping into this house which for too long had been barren of the sound of new life, the sound of children. Elizabeth said that the child in her womb leapt for joy at the sound of Mary’s greeting – a confirmation of what the angel had promised Zechariah. What was thought barren will now bring forth life and it will be a life that, in turn, will proclaim the coming of the Messiah! For nothing is impossible to God.
The week before the first Sunday of Advent I ventured into a local craft store in search of Advent candles. After inquiry, a sales associate led me to the candles. We passed one, then two, then three, four and five full aisles of Christmas decorations. Arriving at the last row she pointed to a small stack of Advent candles on the bottom corner of a shelf. Quite sad in comparison. I cannot help but reflect on the symbolism. As I write this reflection there has been yet another mass shooting in our country. I do not make this jump from searching for Advent candles to a mass shooting in order to be flippant or sensational, I share it because I believe Advent offers needed lessons for our world today but honestly I fear these lessons may fall on deaf ears because they will require work, sacrifice and even risk on our part.
At one point in his commentary on this Sunday’s Responsorial Psalm (Ps. 93), St. Augustine shares this observation: Humble people are like rock. Rock is something you look down on, but it is solid. What about the proud? They are like smoke; they may be rising high, but they vanish as they rise. 
The Alternate Path 