WATER INTO WINE
You are the visible manifestation of the invisible…
You are the rarest beings in the universe………
You are the pinnacle of consciousness in created form….
You are spirit breathed..
Yeshua looked around at the people sitting near him. In his mind he addressed each one with these truths but they were deafened by their thoughts, their self-consciousness, their awareness of each other. Comparing, judging, feeling small, feeling large, feeling inadequate, feeling smug, the thoughts of those dressed to their best, for a gathering, a feast, a wedding.
His heart sank. How could he ever convey to them what he knew them really to be. He could see each one, Spirit breathed, wind blown from the stars, deeply connected in a space within, part of a Oneness they had no awareness of.
Words were not going to help. They already had their own words made into meanings neatly boxed in the mouths of priests who divided and multiplied forgiveness and sins. Words that resonated with their perceptions of themselves, as un - holy, separated from Being, in need of saving. A land locked nation living on promises of glory, occupied by a foreign power.
All they wanted was a God given warrior, a King they could give all their responsibility to, who would lead them in victory over their oppressors.
Yeshua took another sip of wine. It tasted like vinegar. It had been a long 3 days of feasting, he was tired and ready to go somewhere quiet. He longed for the hills and their silence, the wheeling of birds and the sound of presence and freedom.
His body ached to go to where the wind blows where it pleases, where you hear its sound but you can’t tell where it comes from or where it is going.
He stood up ready to bid his farewell when his mother caught his sleeve. They have no wine, she said.
He looked at her. ‘That’s not our business, the bridegroom should supply the wine not us.’
He looked again at the oblivious faces of the party. The bride’s new husband was in no fit state to even care. Yeshua wasn’t sure if anyone else would notice if they were given water instead. They accepted so little, like empty clay jars waiting to be filled with anything, fated to accept whatever was poured into them. The cheap wine had increased their forgetfulness. They had forgotten that they were guests of the universe to whom one life had been given, a life they did not comprehend in its true belonging.
His mother’s words reverberated in his head “They have no wine.” and tears filled the corners of his eyes. These beautiful beings were meant to have the fullness of life, deep embodied fullness that expands the vision and cracks open the egg of existence to be born into the deepest of eternal knowings.
He glanced at the clay jars being re-filled and imagined their contents turning from the emptiness of water to the rich red fullness of being. As a tear fell he walked away and the party continued into the night. This was the first of the miracles that no-one would understand.
