This one’s an oldie but a goodie.

One Sunday morning, a mother walked to her son’s bedroom door, knocked gently, and said, “Son, you need to get up. It’s time.” From behind the door came a muffled reply: “I’m not getting out of bed.” About five minutes later, after being patient, she returned, knocked again, and said, “Son, you have to get up. You’re going to be late for church.” Once more, he shouted back, “Mom, I’m not getting up.” She left again. Waited. Five more minutes passed. Then she came back for the third time. This time she said, “Son, dear, sweetheart, you have to get up. You’ll be late for church!” He said, “Give me one good reason why I should get up.” She replied, “Well… you’re 56 years old, you’ve always gone to church, and, by God, you’re the priest.”

Now, that’s not the first time I’ve told that one, and I appreciate your laughter. It’s always a fun one to share. But it gets us thinking, doesn’t it? Here we are again, gathered to worship our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Today we reflect on another “oldie but goodie”, the story of the wedding feast at Cana. I wish I could go back in time and be there at that moment, not just to witness the miracle, but honestly. I’d love to taste that wine! What in the world did Jesus do? We have a beautiful illustration of the wedding at Cana in one of our shadowboxes, and you may have seen it in the customary as well, visual representations that help us imagine the scene. Let us focus in on something that is easy to miss: the tension between a mother and her son.

Mary, at the wedding, goes to Jesus and essentially knocks on his door: “Do something about this.” Now, what’s the problem? It is a wedding, not their family’s, mind you. Jesus and Mary are guests. It is not their responsibility to keep the party running smoothly. Mary notices the situation: the wine has run out. Maybe she felt for the bride and groom. Maybe she just didn’t want the celebration to end in embarrassment. She knew this was a big deal, and perhaps, as mothers do, she nudged her son. It is ironic that people often must get drunk at a wedding to make it memorable. In this story, it says that usually the good wine is served first and once people are “spirited,” the lesser wine comes out. But here, Jesus changes everything. Mary comes to him, asking for help. And what does he say? “Woman, my time has not yet come.” Now, speaking for most of us, if we ever addressed our mother like that, “Woman…” let’s just say we would’ve been seeing stars. But that’s exactly what Jesus says.

It is a fascinating moment. It humanizes him. Fully God, yes, but also fully human. We get a glimpse of the Son of God interacting with his earthly mother, balancing divine purpose with the immediacy of human relationships. His response reminds me of that old commercial for wine: “We will serve no wine before its time.” Jesus is saying quite literally that it’s not time. Not time to serve the wine… not time to reveal who he is the Messiah. It raises the question: Why? Why didn’t Jesus begin his ministry with something more dramatic? Raising the dead? Healing the blind? Cleansing lepers? Why was his first miracle turning water into wine at a wedding? Does anyone else find that surprising? This miracle isn’t about spectacle. It’s about abundance, joy, and presence. It is about how God shows up, even when it does not feel like the "right time."

Jesus tells Mary his time has not come, but he still acts. He still brings forth the miracle. Why? Because God, from the very beginning of creation, when the stars were hung and the seas were filled, has always cared deeply about his people not running empty. That is what this story is about: Jesus doesn’t let us run dry. Some of you may remember, a couple Sundays ago, something happened during communion. It wasn’t the wine this time, it was the hosts. We ran out. Now, the bread is only so thick. It can only be broken into so many pieces, but I did my best. Some of you, standing at the rail, looked at those tiny fragments and then looked at me like, “What are you going to do about this?”

I wonder if Mary felt something similar, a gentle frustration, a longing for things to be right, for there to be enough. Jesus, in both cases, says: “I see you. I know you need more and I will provide.” Because that’s who he is. He is the God who fills emptiness with abundance. Who turns water into wine. Who takes the old stories, the oldies but goodies, and makes them come alive again.

So where are you today? Are you running on water? Are your vessels empty? Are there moments in your life where you feel like pulling the covers over your head and saying, “I’m not getting out of bed”? I’m hearing some “yeses” out there and yet you got up. You got dressed. You came here. You combed your hair, brushed your teeth, and walked into this place. Why? Because you know there’s something here. Something worth showing up for. Something real, and you are right. Christ is here. He is still turning water into wine.

Each of you has been given spiritual gifts as we heard from St. Paul in today’s epistle. Take that customary home with you and reflect on the text. Go down that list of spiritual gifts and ask: Which one has Christ given to me? I promise you: He has given you at least one. Maybe today, it feels like that gift is running low, but Jesus says: “Let me fill it.” He is not done with you. He is still working miracles, quietly, profoundly in hearts, in communities, in the Church. Just like that wedding feast in Cana, when no one expected it, when the wine had run out, and the party was nearly over, Jesus brought the good stuff because that’s who he is.
An old story? Yes. But a good one.
An oldie but a goodie.