Charles Ellicott Commentary John 2:9

"And when the ruler of the feast tasted the water now become wine, and knew not whence it was (but the servants that had drawn the water knew), the ruler of the feast calleth the bridegroom," — John 2:9 (ASV)

Water that was made wine.—It is better to say, water that had become wine. At what moment did the transformation take place? What water became wine? The text itself does not speak of “water now become wine” until the ruler of the feast tasted it. Immediately afterward, it speaks of it as “water” when the servants drew it. For the plain reference of the parenthetical phrase in brackets is to the drawing of the water from the pitchers (John 2:8), not to a previous drawing of water to place in the pitchers, which has not even been hinted at.

Unless, then, there is a strong reason that does not appear in these words, this simple meaning is the true one: that the change took place during or after the drawing from the pitchers, and that only that portion was changed which was carried to the ruler and actually needed to supply the guests.

The reason based on the mention of the number and contents of the pitchers (John 2:6) is certainly not a strong one. It is quite natural to find these details stated in the picturesque style of this Gospel, and no particular care is taken to give more than a rough estimate of the size, based on a remembrance either of these specific pitchers or of pitchers generally used for this purpose.

There is more force in the general impression derived from John 2:7. It may be fairly asked why more water was placed in readiness than was needed.

But the pitchers would, in any case, be refilled for ablutions after the feast. They were at hand, meeting the eye. All possibility of collusion is thus excluded. They had been used not long before and would very soon be used again.

The filling of all the pitchers leaves to the servants the choice of one or more from which to draw. There is an unfailing potential supply; it becomes an actual supply only when needed and appropriated by human need. This, like every supernatural work, is made to depend on faith. There is no demand for this faith in filling water-pots with water; it is otherwise when they draw it and bear it in the usual tankard to the ruler, in answer to the demand for wine.

Here, as everywhere in divine action, there is an economy in the use of power. There is no miracle of “luxury,” “waste,” or “excess.” These cavils of higher criticism are—like the additions of expositors, such as the idea that the feast lasted for a week or more, or their perversions, such as the claim that the wine was in no sense intoxicating—superstructures without a foundation.