“People do not put new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise the skins burst, the wine spills out, and the skins are ruined. Rather, they pour new wine into fresh wineskins, and both are preserved.”
Jesus is new wine. He is the fullness of God’s mercy, so his capacity outstrips any limitation I might place on him. “Can the wedding guests mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them?” In the Eucharist, Jesus is both the reason for the feast and the feast itself.
God, help me understand your abundance. From the first reading: “The juice of grapes shall drip down the mountains, and all the hills shall run with it.” There is no lack of your abundance, no diminishment over time or from use. Now, in the heart of summer, I can’t help thinking of you as a bumper crop that is always in season.
In his Introduction to the Devout Life, St. Frances de Sales simply says, “Place yourself in the Presence of God.” Myriad thoughts occupy my mind, and I seem to skip from one thought to another. I know God asks that I spend time with him; in moments like this, I ask my guardian angel to pray for me as I try to sit still. Does it work? How would I know? But I ask God to be with me throughout the day, and I know he will be when I extend my hand toward him.
Today’s Gospel acclamation gets at that: “My sheep hear my voice, says the Lord; I know them, and they follow me.” I sometimes wake up wondering where the joy has gone, why I don’t smile while thinking of what is in store for me. And what is in store for me doesn’t place me in a passive role. What God has in store for me, though, might be completely at odds with what I myself believe about the day. And that’s where I have to listen for his voice and trust in his superabundance. There’s more than enough! Can I just get that in my head? God’s grace overflows. With him is the feast, the fullness of a summer day: “Plant vineyards and drink the wine, set out gardens and eat the fruits.”