Sepphora’s (the Bride’s) Perspective Of The Wedding At Cana

Imagining the wedding at Cana from the bride's point of view

Sepphora stood adorned in her bridal garb.  Her bridesmaids made the final adjustments to her finery. Once they were satisfied with their work, one lit a torch and then the others followed, one by one, carefully and silently. The occasion was joyous but in this moment the quiet also marked its solemnity. All the anxiousness Sepphora had felt about the many uncertainties of what she was about to enter into and sadness for missing loved ones who had passed on and could not be present on this day, for a moment subsided. She felt a strong sense of peace.

She felt like she was standing at the edge of a bridge and touching the beginning of it with her toes tentatively, checking its solidity.  She was surprised to find how strong it was. She felt held by some spiritual force quite outside her own. Perhaps, she thought, it was the spirit of those who had been a part of her life and had cared for her that could not be physically present today, her uncle Joseph among them, and her ancestors with whom she never had shared time on this earth but with whom she did share a special lineage �" one which she was continuing by entering into and completing this ritual.  A ritual which would begin this sundown and end the following evening.

She welcomed this new spirit and it comforted and strengthened her.  The calmness was new and welcome.  The journey towards this ritual had been full of internal turmoil. 

Recalling her journey to this place

Sepphora recalled the day her father first mentioned that he had received a proposal for her hand in marriage.   She had been so taken aback.  Although sixteen years old she had not thought the time for marriage would come so soon. 

Sepphora had been around men all her life, her father and brothers, but the intricacies of marriage were still a mystery. She found men intriguing and had spent a lot of time wondering about them and what being closer to them meant and had indulged her fantastical mind in daydreams.  

Sometimes she had imagined herself as the heroine in an ancient land being called upon to marry a mysterious man who was dark and attractive but needed to be tamed.  She had been intrigued by the story Esther living in the palace of King Aphasuerus who used her feminine charms and intelligence to save her Jewish people.  At other times her imaginings were a little closer to home.  Sepphora had imagined the personalities of various men she would encounter in her everyday world and what her interactions with them could be. She was very well aware of the men she found alluring by their stature, mannerisms and smile. There were a few men in her local village she had admired from afar for some time. 

She would often be tasked by her mother with going there for supplies and she would much enjoy this short journey by herself and the freedom it afforded. She loved to take in and be a part of the busyness of the town square �" the noises of salespersons and purchasers bartering, of children playing while their parents went about their business, the clapping and clinking of woodwork and metal work.  She would find a place to stand or sit or watch for a while and make up backstories about the men she could see there.  

One of those men was a metal worker.  She liked his gestures, so much less refined than her own, the way he greeted and said little to those who surveyed his work and wares and remained focused on the task at hand. One day she had broken an earring and used this as an excuse to move closer and even interact with him. She felt her cheeks flush as she held out her hand and showed him the broken earring.  Her heart beat faster after he had taken it and skillfully restored it the metal piece of it so it could be worn again.

However, when her father had made the announcement now several months ago her imaginings were about to make way for the reality of what it would be like to have a male as a close companion in life.  Her father had returned from a trip to purchase some timber for building and repair of the fishing boats.  He said he’d received an offer of marriage for her and it would seem only practical to accept. The man was the second eldest son of the house from where he had purchased his wood and he had seen Sepphora from a distance recently at the marketplace doing errands. However, her father thought there could be some reason to hesitate. Their family was of some means greater than her own and although he had received the offer from the man in question it seems probable his parents and extended family could object.

He noted though that it was time for Sepphora to be settled and it was time his wife and he started to seriously explore other options if this particular one did not work out. He also noted that he had every reason to believe this man was a man of honour, but he would make inquiries to make sure this was correct. Sepphora would not be able to meet the man until his parents had approved of the match and he understood they were making inquiries about Sepphora, her family and their standing in the community.

Sepphora shuddered a little at this last statement. A man of honour as her father asserted was one who would treat her fairly and kindly. She had heard stories from her friends at temple of another sort of man �" one that could become violent in private and cause pain both physically and sometimes verbally and emotionally. Friends of friends had have to either stay with these abusive partners or leave with no security, risking being shamed by their family and others for leaving their husbands. She was glad her father would make inquiries, but how was he to know for sure what this man was like when no one else was around?

She realised that her interactions, wonderings and dreaming would all have to stop if she were to be married. Never again would she feel she could dream about the one she would marry and conceive of him from her own imagination so as not to betray his reality. But she had enjoyed these fantasies and for so long they had been a part of her routine �" what if she wasn’t able to stop?

Feeling anxious and being comforted

Sepphora was welcomed with loving hospitality by Mary. Mary was extremely grateful to have someone to spend time with and chat to and someone at such a different stage of life to take her mind off her own troubles. Sepphora spent a few weeks visiting and easily fit herself into Mary’s daily routine, helping her as she went with her chores. Conversation was easy and Sepphora found relief in telling Mary about her anxieties about marriage. Mary listened intently and did not dismiss her concerns. She instead validated them by reassuring her that being married is a big transition and that her life would change dramatically and that is normal to be anxious about such life transitions. Mary suggested spending time in prayer asking for peace.

All these questions and unknowns began to build within her and a cloud of anxiety formed and engulfed her. Sepphora felt she needed to get away for a little while. She thought of where she could go and she was drawn to think of visiting her aunt. Her parents would surely support her in going to visit Mary. She had been a bit lonely after Joseph had passed away. Jesus was there for her, but the comfort of a son was always different to that of a partner and she was sure Mary would be glad of the comfort for a little while.

Just as Sepphora and Mary were talking over these things a door opened and in walked Jesus. He was still carrying a hammer in one hand and at first seemed deep in thought about something he had just been working on �" planning what he was to do next on the carpentry piece upon which he was working. But once he looked at Sepphora and Mary’s faces these thoughts about work subsided. He must have been able to read their faces and intuit the conversation that has just passed between the two ladies.

He smiled and let out a laugh.

‘Oh so quiet just as soon as I enter! Sorry to interrupt. I’m just here to get a bite to eat’, he said as he casually reached for a bunch of grapes sitting on the countertop behind Mary and some flat bread left over from breakfast.

He raised an eyebrow and looked earnestly at his cousin Sepphora.

‘He’s a great fellow Sepphora. You have nothing to fear. God will be with you in your marriage and guide you through the unknown.

‘I actually see him fairly regularly with my work. His family are one of my suppliers and I actually do need to go today to get some more supplies. Would you like to come with me? I know you may not want to meet Ananias in person but you can wait for me while I go about my business. You can keep me company on the walk there and you can get an idea about the place he comes from.’

Sepphora felt excited and nervous but could not refuse this offer of perhaps finding out a little more detail about her potential husband.

Jesus was one man in Sepphora’s life that had always been easy to be with. She felt completely safe and at ease in his company and he seemed to be able to often read her mind before she spoke. Because of this in some ways she felt closer to Jesus, her cousin, than she did to her brothers James and John and even to her father. As they walked along Jesus chatted about other things �" he asked about her parents and their health �" Salome and Zebedee were Jesus’s aunt and uncle. He asked how James and John were and how the fishing business was working out. 

Sepphora said she didn’t know all the details of the business but she did know that recently they had increased their numbers of boats and hired men so that the plan was for James and John to take a more administrative role in the near future �" more of the duties of her father so he could retire.

Jesus talked about how he missed his father Joseph terribly even though now it had been over two years since his passing, how he’d been so incredibly busy with his business lately but had managed to keep quite a bit of money in savings �" he was working to make sure Mary would be secure even if something were to happen to him unexpectedly. Sepphora liked how Jesus was so open with his feelings about his father and talked about his death. Others so often in her circle avoided such topics. He was good at making jokes and Sepphora was in stitches about some of the fictional stories he told her to lighten her mood. It didn’t seem long until they reached the row of houses and estate at the edge of the village of Cana.

When they arrived there were a few people tending to some crops and also cattle. One end of the estate was filled with the largest Atlantic Pistachio trees Sepphora had ever seen and then she noticed alongside the large ones there were the same type of trees in various stages of growth.

‘Wait here’ Jesus said and gestured to the entrance of the main residential building. Sepphora stayed with the wagon and watched from a distance as a man came out from inside the building to greet Jesus. Jesus gestured over towards the pistachio trees and the man who had greeted him nodded before they both began walking towards the trees purposefully. Once they reached this destination the new man made certain gestures towards various trees and seemed to be advising Jesus on which one to cut.

The new man seemed quite serious and officious at first but then Sepphora noticed Jesus was working to soften him and before long the two men were laughing and sharing a joke. Sepphora saw the new man’s smile and she could just make out small crinkles around his eyes. He continued to laugh and as he did so he threw his head back and softened his shoulders. Sepphora’s heart warmed. Anyone who could share a joke with Jesus a was someone with whom surely life would surely be good. Sepphora then found a seat on the wagon and lay back. It would be a little while before the wood would be cut and would be ready to take back to Nazareth.

Sepphora had returned to Bathsaida a few days later.  Her father had advised that the wedding had indeed been approved and the couple were to have an official meeting in a few days.

Feeling sadness and grief

After the meeting had passed and Sepphora had from a closer distance experienced feeling peaceful in her future husband’s presence, the reality of the fact that she was indeed going to be married started to sink in. The anxiety that was now subsiding after her visit to Mary and Jesus now started to transform into sadness. Sepphora started to grieve for her childhood and the life she would be leaving behind.

Her days would be different and the routine and rhythm she had known would be gone. Sepphora pondered how beautiful and blessed she had been in her childhood. Her parents had nurtured her and provided for her in a way that she had never wanted for anything. She had been privileged to have had a more than modest education for a woman of her social standing. She had learned how to read as well as know the Torah. She loved the stories of the strong women in it and she aspired to be as courageous as they were �" although she hoped she would never be tried or tested as much.

Her simple days of helping her mother with running the household and sometimes with balancing the books and administration of their family’s fishing business would be at an end. She had a busy life as a single woman but not so busy that it didn’t afford her time to wander from time to time up and down the sea shore, meditating on the different shapes and colours of the rocks and sand, sometimes lying on the shore and watching the clouds roll on above her as her brothers, father and their men toiled on the water.

Welcoming the future

As the days drew nearer to the wedding this sadness continued. However, new excitement about the future possibilities also started to enter her mind. She started to imagine the new love that would be created in her new family and the new relationships that her marriage would create. She imagined holding her own children and sharing their joy and holding them physically and emotionally in joyous and more difficult times.

Sepphora remembered all these things and held them in her heart as she welcomed this new peace. Now it was time. Her and her bridesmaids begin to walk slowly towards the A’s home �" the home that after this evening will also be her own. The air was warm but dry and crisp and some amber light leftover from the sunset glowed above the mountains on the horizon. The pebbles on the course path crunched beneath her sandals and her bridesmaids began to sing. Sepphora too joined in their trills, letting the newfound peace swell within her. A smile glowed from within and filled her face as the group continued on their short journey to where Sepphora’s new life would begin.

​

Author's Note

Is this engaging? Does it make you want to read more?

Reviews

[JayG]

• “Is this engaging? Does it make you want to read more?”

Well, you did ask...and this WILL sting. But…it’s NOT about your talent, or how well you write. And it’s both fixable and, not something the author will see as they edit their own work. And since we won't even address the problem we don’t see as being one, I thought you might want to know.

Look at this piece, not as the author, but as a reader must. Unlike you, they don’t know the people, their mood and history, or even such a tiny thing as their age, before they begin reading.

Nor do they know your intent for how the words are to be read…or taken. They have the context you provide, and that context must be provided either as they read, or before the line being read. They also have only what the words suggest to them, based on THEIR background.

Add in one more constraint: The reader isn’t seeking information. They want you to move-them-emotionally. As E. L. Doctorow put it: “Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader. Not the fact that it’s raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.” And how much time did your teachers spend on how to do that?

With that in mind:

Fact #1: Sepphora stood adorned in her bridal garb.

I sit, adorned in my daily garb. Are you thrilled to learn that? No? So why would a reader, who doesn’t know where we are in time and space, other than generically, be excited to learn that someone we know nothing about is wearing something generically called a wedding gown? In fact, did the people of the time wear a “gown?” Wouldn’t how she feels about getting married be of far more importance to her AND the reader than the clothing? Remember, this is HER story, not yours. And remember, too, as this opens we don’t know where she is in time and space. So, as far as the reader knows, she could be in Chicago, 50 years from now, on the American frontier in 1890, or on Mars.

Don’t forget, you’re opening a story, not a report. What matters to her, in the moment she calls “now,” matters to the reader. For example: Are we at the altar? In the fitting room? Is she pleased to be where she is or frightened? She's to be out avatar, and how can she be that if we don’t know the scene as she does? How can we know why she does things if we don't?

Her perception of the situation matters to the mood, and mood matters a lot more to a reader than generic facts. You know where we are and what’s going on. The people in the story know. Shouldn’t the reader know, too, if they’re to feel the rain on their cheek?

Fact #2: Her bridesmaids made the final adjustments to her finery.

This is presented as a report, not as her story. You’re describing what the reader could see, where they there, and doing it in summation. But it takes the proverbial 1000 words to equal the impact of one picture. And reading that many words would take at least three minutes, as against the eye-blink’s time it would take to see it were this film. So reading about visuals is like reading a transcript of a football game—not quite as exciting as living it, because it moves a lot more slooowly. That's why, in fiction, we present what the protagonist is focused on, as against what can be seen by a visitor.

Fact #3: Once they were satisfied with their work, one lit a torch and then the others followed, one by one, carefully and silently.

1. Who cares if they were silent or…? This is visually oriented trivia, not story. You’re thinking cinematically, in a medium that doesn’t reproduce pictures—something we all do when we begin writing.

2. People who don’t have flashlights don’t have weddings at night. How do you get home? Not by torchlight. And the average people didn’t waste money on oil for lamps. Torches don’t work because if you hold them high they drip hot pitch on your arm. And if you don’t, their light blinds you to the darkness you’re trying to relieve.

• Would you like to come with me?

Seriously? An unmarried Jewish woman going, alone, with a man who wasn’t her husband? You’re extrapolating modern attitudes into a vastly different society. You talk about her keeping books. But women weren’t educated, and people didn’t keep books in the sense that we do. One of the hazards of writing about the past is assuming they thought/behaved/reasoned like us.

For example, where it says that Jonah was “in the belly of a great fish,” we take that as an actual happening. But, they no more meant it literally than saying you’re “in a terrible stew,” means you’re being cooked (a pious monk added the line that, "Now the LORD had prepared a great fish to swallow Jonah.,” to the bible in the Middle Ages, because he had no way to do research. But we do.

So always, do your research.

But all that aside, the problem BEHIND the problem you face is absurdly simple: Because we learned a skill our teachers called “writing” we assume that it's the one pointed to by the same word in the name of the profession we call, Fiction-Writing. But it’s not. Not even close. What we learned, and perfected for over a decade, is nonfiction writing, which is needed to make us valuable to our future employer. (the purpose of public education is to provide employers with a pool of potential employees who have a predictable, and useful set of skill) And what kind of writing do employers want from us: reports, papers, and letters—what we spent so much time practicing—ALL nonfiction, and all having the goal of informing the reader—which is exactly how you’ve written this. The reader isn't living in real-time. Instead, a narrator, who can be neither heard nor seen, and so is dispassionate, explains and reports…just-like-a-history-book. And when was the last time you read one of them for fun?

The solution? Just as simple. Add the skills the pros take for granted to those you now own and there you are. Of course the words simple and easy aren’t interchangeable, so there is a fair bit of study and practice involved. But that’s true of any profession, and learning about something you want to do may be work, but it’s not hard-labor. You may find it a lot like going backstage, and filled with, “So THAT’S how they do it.”

The library’s fiction-writing section s a huge resource in acquiring that knowledge. Personally? I’d suggest Dwight Swain’s, Techniques of the Selling Writer, which recently came out of copyright protection. It's the best I've found to date at imparting and clarifying the "nuts-and-bolts" issues of creating a scene that will sing to the reader. The address of an archive site where you can read or download it free is just below. Copy/paste the address into the URL window of any Internet page and hit Return to get there.

https://archive.org/details/TechniquesOfTheSellingWriterCUsersvenkatmGoogleDrive4FilmMakingBsc_ChennaiFilmSchoolPractice_Others

And for a preview/overview of the issues to be found in such a book, you might check a few articles in my WordPress writing blog.

I know this is terrible news, and nothing like what you hoped to see. But the problems you face are those of pretty much every hopeful writer, because we aren’t told, and never notice, that we all leave school exactly as prepared to write fiction as to pilot a commercial airliner. So you have a LOT of company.

So...don’t let it discourage you. Instead, jump in. If you are made to write you’ll find the learning fun. If not? Well, you’ve learned something important. So, it’s win/win. Right?

Hang in there, and keep-on-writing.

Jay Greenstein
https://jaygreenstein.wordpress.com/category/the-craft-of-writing/the-grumpy-old-writing-coach/