The Wedding in Cana

It was the first day of the week when I arrived early for the wedding of Jacob, son of Hur to Miriam, the daughter of Tevye the import Merchant. I was brought to the bride's room where awaited the call to join her groom before the Rabbi. I was surprised there wasn't a lot of noise. This nontraditional group of women gathered together, but Miriam is a quiet girl. I could see the movement of her hands beneath the long flowing veil completely shielding her from onlookers.

The rest of the bridal party sat in groups whispering as mothers and elder women peeked from the curtained doorway extolling the virtues and disparages of the incoming guests. All of this interaction did not seem to affect our bride. She'd been called on that morning by her espoused to come with her bridesmaids and family. Not knowing for sure the time or day, The bridal party had been encamped at her house for a week prepared for his arrival.

I made may way to her side and touched her shoulder, she jerked in surprise. "Miriam, how are you faring?" I asked.

"Just fine." Her voice trembled.

"Any second thoughts about this adventure you're about to enter?" I teased.

"There are always thoughts, second, third and twenty-five, but the time for that is past." We were interrupted by her mother claiming her attention. I excused myself and hurried off to find the groom.

Down a long hall I heard male voices laughing. I peeked into the room to see the groomsmen laughing and imbibing little sips of courage from a small leather flask. Jacob shook his head nervously, "I don't need courage to face my bride, I need courage to command my household." He proclaimed. The rest of the men joined his laughter and added horror stories of their own experiences with wives and mothers. I left the men to their storied and joined the guests

The room decorated for the ceremony was filled with prominent members of the tribe of Judah and the well-heeled merchants of Miriam's side of the guest list. Jafar, the richest of the merchants however not the most respected, entered and was led to a seat he didn't think reflected his position and was moved a number of times until the bride's father informed him that he could not sit with the family. Jafar was relegated to a row further back as the other seats closer were filled during this time. He was not happy.

A hush fell as a group entered and was led to a special area where Jafar had tried to be seated. I recognized the man in white linen as Jesus of Nazareth. He followed his mother to the seats and trailing him were a few of his followers; disciples they are called. From that time on the level of conversation lowered to a soft whisper. I felt compelled to watch this Jesus. I had not been this close to the man who took on the Jewish hierarchy. He turned his head, his eyes took in the guests and when his eyes found me he stopped. In that moment I felt something I had never felt before. There was such love that flowed through my body I almost wept. How could one human portray to another without touching or speaking, such love? I would stay close to him all evening and watch him. From the incidents I'd heard and now felt, I wanted more of this man.

At the front of the room towered the traditional four posts covered with a sheer cloth and the tops decorated with blossoms and leaves. A table set and covered with a cloth, took up the rear of the chuppah.

At last the moment arrived and the groom and his attendants entered to stand before the witnesses. The bride entered escorted for the final ceremony releasing her from her father's care to her husband.

When the glass was broken and the shout of Mozal tov! faded, the reception began. The guests enjoyed dancing. The food laden the tables. Guests were having such fun and there didn't seem to be a division of class. I saw the rich merchants dancing with aristocrats and talking to the Rabbi leaders of the Tribes. It was amazing that there was no animosity in the hall, where just weeks before there had been a ruckus and the soldiers had been called to disrupt the confrontation. My eyes followed Jesus as he passed through the crowd, smiling, laughing and touching those he spoke with.

As the evening wore on, I saw a couple of servants speak to the master of the feast. He had a look of shock then dismay. I quickly made my way to them, standing behind a potted palm. I heard the servants assuring the merchant had sent what was ordered, but there were more guests staying than what was expected. There was only one case of wine left. I felt the brush of fingers on my arm. I turned quickly to see Mary, the mother of Jesus, standing next to me smiling.

"You came for a story, young lady. You are about to see something that when you write about it, it will be told for longer that you could ever dream of. Centuries will pass and this will be spoken of." She smiled and walked around the palm to the Master of the feast who was about to punish his servants.

"Do not hurt them, I have need of them." Mary admonished softy.

"What are you saying? We are about to run out of wine."

"I know. It is time for my son to take his next step. He has been reluctant and this is an excellent opportunity." Mary responded.

"How?"

"Tell your servants to do whatever he tells them to do, without question." She moved away and I watched her approach Jesus. He shook his head and started to turn away, but mother's know best and she tugged on his sleeve speaking insistently. He finally smiled and nodded looking up to where the Master and the servants stood waiting, along with yours truly.

Jesus approached the group and told the Master to instruct his servants to bring all the jars they could find to a supply room. I followed Jesus, not to be left out, and no one stopped me.

In the room were as many as twenty or more jars and urns. Jesus ordered them all to be filled with water. The servants did as was asked. When all the pots were filled, Jesus ordered the servants to draw out a sample and deliver it to the master of the feast. When the men drew a cup full, I could see that the substance was no longer water but a red color much like wine. I looked up at Jesus, he smiled and winked at me. I followed the servants, this was one tasting I would not miss.

The servants approached the Master of the feast who was talking to the Miriam's father, Tevye. They gave the Master the cup and he tasted, then tasted again. He frowned and motioned for a cup to be given the bride's father. After a taste or two Miriam's father shook his head and said, "This is most unusual. Usually the best wine is served first when the guest's tastes are more acute, but you have saved the best for last." He walked off with the cup still in his hand. The Master motioned for the servants to serve the wine.

I moved to find Jesus who was talking to his mother. The wine was served and I heard a number of the guests make the same observation Tevye had.

After Jesus and his disciples left the feast, I spread the story. I left the reception and went straight to my office and a fresh parchment where I wrote this account to my editor.