When the Wine Runs Out — Silvio José Báez, ocd
Thank you for being here this afternoon! I’m so happy to celebrate the Eucharist with you on this special occasion—the 40th anniversary of my priestly ordination. I truly wanted to share with you my gratitude and praise to the Lord for calling me to the priesthood forty years ago. I couldn’t celebrate this alone, because you—the holy people of God—are the ultimate and essential reason for my priesthood.
Today, I’m celebrating forty years of God’s faithful love in my life and the joy of serving as a humble witness to the Gospel and a shepherd of God’s people. Through all these years, Jesus has always been by my side—holding me up with his love, bringing me comfort in tough times, showing his strength in my weakness, and guiding my ministry, even when things got difficult and uncertain.
Looking back, I’ve experienced exactly what Pope Francis wrote to the people of Nicaragua last December: “In the most difficult moments, when it becomes humanly impossible to understand what God wants from us, we are called not to doubt his care and mercy.”
Today’s Gospel is the story of the wedding at Cana, where Jesus performed his first miracle—turning water into wine. He and his disciples were invited to the celebration, and it was right there, in the middle of a party, that he chose to reveal God’s love. Jesus didn’t pick the desert, Mount Sinai, or the temple in Jerusalem. No, he started his signs among ordinary people—singing, laughing, dancing, eating, and drinking at a wedding.
In Scripture, wine is a sign of the joy God promises us—the deep joy our hearts long for and the love that lights up our lives. Today’s Gospel reminds us that our relationship with God isn’t just about rules, penance, or sorrow. It’s about love, joy, and friendship.
But at that wedding, the wine ran out—unexpectedly. And without wine, love and joy were at risk. In our own lives, and throughout history, the wine often runs dry. It happens when we feel overwhelmed, when pessimism takes over hope, when love loses its spark, and dreams seem to fade away.
In the Church, the wine runs out when faith lacks inner strength, when religion starts feeling like a burden, or when fear and selfishness get in the way of service and speaking the truth. In society, the wine is gone when people stop listening to each other, when dialogue breaks down, and when no one is willing to make sacrifices for the common good. An oppressed society lacks the wine of life, joy, and love.
At Cana, Mary noticed the wine had run out, and instead of accepting it, she quietly turned to Jesus and said, “They have no wine.” In that moment, she became the voice of Israel and all of humanity, bringing our needs and hopes to her Son. And we shouldn’t settle either—we shouldn’t get used to sadness, the loss of hope, or the absence of love.
Mary then told the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” Those are her last recorded words in the Gospel, and they’re so simple yet powerful. Listen to him, trust his words, and live them out. And when we do, the empty jars of our hearts will be filled. Jesus transforms everything—turning emptiness into fullness, darkness into light, and ordinary water into the best wine.
Today, as I celebrate forty years of priesthood, I want to take Mary’s words to heart. As a priest, Jesus has called me to be one of the servants at the great wedding feast between God and humanity. I want to fill the jars of my life with trust, believing that Jesus will turn it into an abundance of joy for everyone. With everything I have, I renew my commitment today—just as I did forty years ago when I first said yes, full of youthful generosity and innocence.
Now, with the wisdom that’s come from years of ministry and the purification that’s come through moments of uncertainty and darkness, I’m reaffirming my desire to let the Gospel be my passion, my light, and my path. I trust that Jesus will keep sustaining me, turning scarcity into abundance, and bringing something great out of the little I have to offer.
Like Mary, who noticed when the wine ran out, I don’t want to ignore the pain and despair of my brothers and sisters. I want to be close to those who’ve run out of wine—those who feel like they’ve got nothing left but suffering and disappointment. I want to be a pastor who walks with God’s people, witnessing to Jesus and serving them, reaching out to bless, to lift up, and to walk alongside those who are far from God or weighed down by life’s struggles.
I ask the Lord to strengthen my heart with trust, patience, and hope. Like Mary at Cana, I want to keep coming to him in prayer, interceding for everyone. And I want to live with a peaceful and joyful heart, knowing that the best wine is still to come.
May Mary, Mother of Priests, help me stay faithful in my ministry with the same loving surrender to Jesus that inspired my first “yes” forty years ago.
Silvio José Báez, o.c.d.
Auxiliary Bishop of Managua
Homily for the 40th Anniversary of Priestly Ordination
19 January 2025
Translation from the Spanish text is the blogger’s own work product and may not be reproduced without permission.
Featured image: Bishop Báez offers words of encouragement to the Nicaraguan faithful for the traditional feast of the Gritería, the Nicaraguan celebration of the Vigil of the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, December 7. Image credit: Silvio José Báez ocd YouTube channel (screenshot)