Epiphany 2C (John 2:1-11)

About five years ago, I shared a line from Alexander Pope’s poem that has stayed with me: “The conscious water saw its lover and blushed.” Every time I hear the gospel passage of Jesus turning water into wine, these words return to me. They capture something essential about the story—not so much the mechanics of how the miracle occurred, but the profound transformation it symbolizes. Pope’s line suggests that the water recognized something extraordinary, something that stirred it to change. In a way, the verse speaks to a truth about spiritual transformation: that encountering love can evoke a response as natural and mysterious as a blush. Yet for many Christians today, perhaps we have lost that ability to “blush” at encountering the divine within. 

In thinking about the water’s transformation into wine, there’s an analogy to be drawn between the process of winemaking and the journey of spiritual growth. Winemaking is, in many ways, a dance with oxygen—a process that involves carefully balancing oxygen exposure depending on the desired complexity, freshness, and character of the wine. This interplay is crucial, as too much oxygen can ruin the wine, while just the right amount at the right time enhances its flavors and depth. The careful control of oxygen, therefore, determines whether the wine matures into something balanced and remarkable or spoils before reaching its full potential.

Similarly, our own spiritual and existential transformation requires a delicate balance of “oxygen”—the life-giving breath we draw. Just as oxygen affects the wine, our breath connects us to the present moment, to ourselves, to the world around us, and to the presence of God. Controlling our breath, much like winemakers control oxygen, can guide us through different states, helping us remain aware and adaptive as we respond to our mental and physical needs.

When we feel anxious and nervous, for example, taking slow, deliberate breaths can ground us, calming the nervous system. Within that slowing down, we create a space to observe our inner state, connecting to ourselves more deeply. Other times, when we’re tired and in need of energy, short, invigorating breaths can awaken our senses and revitalize us, much like a quick splash of oxygen can open up a wine’s aromas and flavors. These varied breathing practices are, in a sense, acts of “self-fermentation”—moments when we engage with our inner self, assessing what we need to grow skillfully, to age gracefully, to gain discernment and depth.

In this practice of breathing, we can begin to imagine ourselves as water being transformed, as wine maturing to perfection. By staying connected to the breath and present to each moment, we are, like the water in the gospel story, able to respond to the “lover”—to the divine presence—within and around us. This attentiveness helps us gradually shed old layers, habits, and identities, aging and refining our character. We become a unique vintage, shaped by our encounters, our spiritual practices, and our willingness to change.

Just as winemaking is a delicate process, so is the transformation of the mind and body. It requires patience, intention, and the right conditions—solitude, community, prayer, and moments of breath-centered reflection. Each breath, when taken with awareness, becomes a small step in our fermentation, a part of the process that leads us closer to becoming our truest, most skillful selves. Through this slow, attentive journey, we become capable of truly blushing again at the sight of our divine lover, responding with awe and gratitude to the transformation taking place within us.