Scripture Reflection for January 19, 2025, Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

Is 62:1-5
Ps 96:1-2, 2-3, 7-8, 9-10
1 Cor 12:4-11
Jn 2:1-11

Who couldn't use a miracle right about now?

After weeks of parties and packages, planning and platters, the world returns to something vaguely normal. Our waistlines are bigger and our to-do lists are smaller. Christmas is in the rear-view mirror. The trees have been tossed to the curb. The lights have burned out. The toys have become boring. The last bits of confetti have been swept up and the final bricks of fruitcake have been hidden away, God only knows where. Winter stretches before us, with dark nights and cold mornings and endless heart-shaped boxes lining the shelves at Walmart.

But then, this Sunday, we encounter something wondrous. Just when we need it, we get a miracle, the first recorded miracle of Jesus as he began his public ministry.

What he did was not an act of healing or restoration -- no lepers were cured, no blind received sight -- but, rather, it was a gesture of quiet but unmistakable transformation. The ordinary became extraordinary. Water became into wine. Whether we realize it or not, Jesus offered a beautiful lesson that would hold true not just during his ministry, but for eternity.

Put simply: An encounter with the Lord can't help but bring about change. This miracle, of course, is a beautiful companion (and, really, a symbol) of the setting, a wedding -- an occasion where two people are changed, becoming one flesh; it's a sacred union that holds open the promise of new wonder, new joy, new life.

When we encounter this episode, it's also a beautiful chance to look more closely at just how it's told. The first lines of John's Gospel make clear what, or who, is important: "There was a wedding at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there."

Then comes this little afterthought, in case anyone was wondering: "Jesus and his disciples were also invited to the wedding."

Really? It's a startling juxtaposition. The author clearly wants us to know who was present, and who takes precedence. We realize that Mary, the one whose "yes" was the catalyst for the joyous event we just celebrated, the Nativity, was also the motivating force behind her son's first miracle.

When you think about it, in some ways Cana echoed Bethlehem. Both involved God intervening to make the ordinary extraordinary; a manger became home for the Almighty; a humble and obscure family became Holy; water became wine.

And in Cana, as in Bethlehem, Mary's role made it happen. That's not all. One of the great gifts of this Gospel passage is that it leaves us with Mary's final recorded words in Scripture, her advice to the servants: "Do whatever he tells you." Those five words tell them (and us) all we need to know: this is where discipleship begins. Listen to him. Then do it.

It can be tempting to look at the miracle of Cana as a sentimental mystery -- a surprising prelude to those loaves multiplying, the lame walking and the dead rising. But that misses the larger point. In Christ's hands, miracles abound. They happen at unexpected moments, in places we might not imagine.

And this event involves elements that we will see later, the night before his death: apostles gathered around a table, wine, and commanding words of faith and hope. "Do this in memory of me" carries a haunting echo of "Do whatever he tells you."

As we recover from Christmas and get back into the familiar grind of daily life, and the quiet continuation of Ordinary Time, maybe we need this moment in Cana. We need this connection to the miraculous and an opportunity to keep our hearts attentive to this simple, transcendent truth: Jesus changes everything. When we least expect it, wonders await. Miracles abound.