When Jesus Wept - By Bodie Page 0,99

pouring wine and handing around the serving trays.

I had brought all that remained of an oak-barreled vintage from Faithful Vineyard. As I had noticed on other occasions, some imbibers stopped to savor and sense the nuances of the wine. Others drank, raised their glasses, and called for more. Judas Iscariot was one who acted in that way.

The Lord was very complimentary of my work.

“Thank you, Lord,” I replied. “Coming from you, a master winemaker yourself, that’s high praise.”

Because not all who were at this dinner had witnessed the miracle at the wedding in Cana, those of us who saw it happen recounted the event.

There was some confusion at the meaning of the miracle.

Even those who had absorbed the Lord’s teaching for years were still puzzled. It was not a miracle of healing a cripple or curing the blind or raising the dead. The closest link was to the times when Jesus miraculously fed multitudes from a handful of provisions. Even those comparisons failed to explain the significance of turning water into wine.

I said, “I think it’s far more than just a kindness to keep a family from embarrassment. Part of the importance is because of the words that were spoken. Remember the b’rakhah at a wedding? ‘Blessed art Thou, O Lord God, King of the universe, who gives us the fruit of the vine?’ There was a message there, but we didn’t understand it until later. Am I right, Lord?”

Jesus did not reply but motioned for me to continue.

Now that supper was ending the women came to retrieve the platters. Not wanting to interrupt the discussion, they stood around the sides of the room, listening. Mary stood near the Lord’s feet.

Apart from Judas, who whispered to the man on his right, the rest of the room listened as I said, “As a winemaker myself, I’ve thought about how much greater that sign was, even if I didn’t comprehend it at the time. Each winter I prune the dead canes. Each spring I wait to see that a new birth will occur. I water between the rows, to make the roots stretch for the liquid and so grow stronger. I thin the leaves and the bunches so that all the energy of the sun and the vine will concentrate in making the finest fruit.”

Nodding toward Patrick and Samson, I said, “Sometimes I fight pests that would devour the crop. If I succeed in keeping the grapes safe until harvest, they must be gathered at the peak of ripeness … not too green, nor too sweet … and then they must be crushed to release their juice. Think about that! We tend the vines all year long, defend them, fight for them, so that we can take their fruit and utterly crush the lifeblood out of it! Even then, it is a combination of skill,” I pointed out Patrick and Samson again, “and faith that what emerges from the barrels in another year’s time will be drinkable and not vinegar!”

The audience laughed.

“So here’s what I know about Jesus of Nazareth, winemaker: He is able to take the water that comes from heaven as rain or from the springs as a gift of almighty God and bypass all those steps! He alone is able to go from water to the finest wine that ever was!”

Suddenly I was embarrassed that I had been lecturing, and everyone was hanging on my words.

It was my sister Mary who redirected the attention of the group.

Drawing an alabaster bottle from her pocket she uncorked it and poured the contents over Jesus’ outstretched feet. It was the same gesture she had performed at Simon’s house in the Galil some years before. I had not been there on that occasion, but I knew that after Jesus had saved her life, telling her to “go and sin no more,” she had been transformed. In gratitude she anointed his feet with expensive perfumed lotion.

She did the same again now.

The powerful aroma of costly spikenard filled the chamber, easily overpowering the remaining scents of the dinner. The air was charged with inexpressible sweetness.

Mary allowed her hair to fall across his feet, and I saw her embrace them, scrubbing Jesus’ feet with her reddish locks and mingling her tears with the ointment.

I heard Judas mutter, “Such a waste. Terrible expense!”

When Jesus sat up to thank Mary for her kindness, she wanted to anoint his head as well, but the remaining spikenard would not come out of the flask. Without hesitation, Mary shattered the vial