Introduction
So, I struggle with this text. I alluded to it once in one of my writings on recovery that you can find on my website. As an alcoholic in recovery, how do I preach on Jesus’ miracle of a ton of really good wine? And when we so readily connect this to communion, does this mean that Jesus is the best wine (“But you have kept the good wine until now.” “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.”)?
This text brims with opportunity to describe Jesus as the “best wine.” It overflows with options to preach about joyful abundance and a great party and feast. The imagery runneth over that Jesus knew how to party. What good news! What a fellowship! What a joy divine! And after this party, we certainly will need to be leaning on the everlasting arms!
And that’s what makes this text my nightmare. Regardless of whether it’s 1st century or the 21st century, alcohol pours in abundance at the majority of wedding receptions. They are one of the least safe places for me and events that I will never attend on my own. But on top of the regular proliferation of alcohol, we hear that when this party should be closing (because the wine has run out and now I can finally let my guard down or leave), someone finds another few cases of alcohol and the party continues. And on top of that, now everyone is talking about this being the best alcohol they have ever tasted.
**Before I make the turn towards good news that you are desperately wanting, I want to pause and talk about alcoholism for one second (yes, crossing that space between my recovery writing and this commentary).
When I describe the above as being my nightmare, it is not because I dislike alcohol. It is because I love it. I hunger for it. I have shared often that my favorite description of alcoholism comes from the West Wing. Leo McGarry, the chief of staff, depicted by John Spencer, is an alcoholic in recovery. In a scene he describes his alcoholism in this way:
“I’m an alcoholic, I don’t have one drink. I don’t understand people who have one drink. I don’t understand people who leave half a glass of wine on the table. I don’t understand people who say they’ve had enough. How can you have enough of feeling like this? How can you not want to feel like this longer? My brain works differently.”
If I started saying that I hated alcohol or hated the feeling that it gives me, I’d be lying through my teeth. And the quickest way to relapse is to begin lying to yourself and others. As the Big Book states, alcoholism is “cunning, baffling, and powerful” and I have to acknowledge that each and every day.
So, to hear that there is a wine that is “GOOD,” is horrible news to my ears because I desperately want to know what that means. Is it the taste? Is it how hard it hits and the drunkenness it provides? Is it the smoothness in which it goes down? And while it is being described as “good,” I would also hear that there are copious amounts of it. This is the alcoholic’s dream. You mean an endless river that will never run dry?
Hear me when I tell you, I am safe. I have all my supports around me. I am the most grounded in my sobriety that I have ever been AND… this is when I need to be most vigilant. As I have often said, it is the days when I am healthiest and feeling the best that I need to be the most on guard with my sobriety.
If any of this is striking you as odd or if it’s hitting a little too close to home, please know that I am here to talk without any judgment or critique. I am always here for you. **
Now that I’ve sufficiently made you uncomfortable, how on earth do I preach this (and maybe encourage you to take another tact at preaching this text this year.
Turn to Mary to Turn to Jesus
The wedding at Cana begins with a problem: the wine runs out. In the first-century Mediterranean world, this isn’t just a logistical hiccup; it’s a crisis of hospitality and honor. For the bridegroom and his family, running out of wine risks public embarrassment, exposing their inability to provide. It’s a moment of scarcity (both literal and social).
In this moment of need, Mary, the mother of our Lord, steps forward. She doesn’t panic or attempt to solve the problem herself. Instead, she turns to Jesus. Her words are striking in their simplicity and trust: “They have no wine.”Mary names the need and leaves it at Jesus’ feet, without dictating how he should respond.
Jesus’ reply, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come,” can feel dismissive. Yet Mary persists. Not with argument, but with faith. She turns to the servants and instructs them, “Do whatever he tells you.”
This moment is the hinge of the story. Mary doesn’t know what Jesus will do or how he will act. But her trust in him is unshakable, and her command to the servants models what it looks like to live in that trust. She doesn’t need certainty about the outcome. She needs only faith in Jesus’ power to transform the situation.
“Do Whatever He Tells You”
Mary’s words echo through time as a call to action for us. They invite us to trust in Jesus, even in moments of scarcity or uncertainty. The servants’ obedience to Jesus (filling the jars, drawing the water, and bringing it to the steward) becomes the means by which the miracle unfolds. Without their willingness to trust and act, the water jars remain empty, and the miracle remains untold.
This mutual action between divine power and human participation is key. Jesus performs the transformation, but the servants’ actions create the space for that transformation to be revealed. Their trust leads them to act, even when what Jesus asks of them might seem strange or mundane.
Preaching Possibilities
Following Mary, Following Jesus as Servants of God
For us, too, this text raises a question: where is Jesus inviting us to act in trust, even when the path forward seems unclear? Where are we being asked to “fill the jars,” even when it feels futile or when the jars are heavy and the need feels overwhelming?
Mary’s words, “Do whatever he tells you,” call us back to the heart of discipleship and listening to Jesus and trusting his ability to transform. Like the servants at Cana, we are invited to participate in the unfolding of God’s grace.
And that’s where the Good News is for me. I don’t need to be the bride or bridegroom. I don’t need to be a participant at the party who is partaking in the feast. I can be one of the servants. Called to listen to whatever Jesus tells me. Called to fill a jar with the ordinary so that Jesus can transform it into the extraordinary.
When we step out in faith (when we fill the jars of our lives with trust, hope, faith and love) we create space for Jesus to reveal his glory. The result may not always look like what we expect, but it will reflect the abundance of God’s kingdom: joy, grace, love, and life overflowing.
Mary’s words remind us where to turn. Trust Jesus. Act in faith. And wait for God’s action to unfold.
Micah Krey 
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