Tripping over the legs of a few of the heavier partiers,

The master of the banquet made his way to the bar.

His face flushed with merriment, a song roaring from his throat.

He stops and greets the young carpenter who sits quietly next to his mother.

“To Life” he cries. “To Life” they respond. And the man stumbles along, musically.

It has been a long night, but the master of the banquet shows no weariness.

He makes his way to the bar and tosses aside empty wineskin after empty wineskin

When suddenly in the corner of his eye he notices the purification jars.

Glimmering red. Utter surprise: Expecting scarcity, he encounters abundance.

He pours from the jar of bright red wine and sips from his cup

It’s a wine the like of which he has never tasted

In the moment of taking the first two sips of this strange wine, the master of the banquet feels transported to another time.

Whether it is simply the proportion of alcohol in his blood,

Or something in the new wine, he can’t tell.

But it is as if he were reliving a moment of glory from a past he never had.

It is the feeling of having regained something valuable that was lost.

It is the sense of a brokenness being pieced together. But it is all in an instant,

A delusion of the intoxication, no doubt.

But this wine and these jars of purification – this paradox of the somber and celebratory

It is all in the one sip of this new wine. This best of wines.

He turns to where the bridegroom is standing – beyond the carpenter and his mother and friends.

And he calls out to the bridegroom who can’t hear him. All the music and laughter in the room.

So he goes up and pulls him aside. You have saved the best wine until last! It’s glorious stuff!


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