We are steadily making our way through the desert of Lent and, happily,
today’s readings bring us to a kind of oasis, to cool refreshing waters.
The reading from Exodus took us to the wondrous waters that gushed forth
from the rock at Meriba in the desert: waters that revived the faith of
some very thirsty and weary and disillusioned Israelites. And the gospel
brought us to the waters of Jacob’s well where Jesus revealed himself to
the Samaritan woman as Living Water, more abundant and more life-giving
by far than water from any well.
Both readings tell of
the power of water to bring life and to make new: water, that wonderful
metaphor for the life of grace, the life God shares with us in such
abundance. Like water, grace flows freely. It’s unpredictable and cannot
be contained. No wonder Jesus in his conversation with the
Samaritan woman so quickly turned talk of well water into talk of what
he called “living water.” The water of Jacob’s well, he said,
refreshing though it was, would still leave the drinker thirsty, but
living water would become for the one who drank, “a spring of water
gushing up to eternal life.”
Scripture scholars
assure us that, as with all the stories in John’s Gospel, there is more
here than first meets the eye. It is rich in meaning, with many
layers, open to many interpretations. It’s a story about how Jesus
always puts people first: ahead of laws or social conventions; it’s a
story about Jesus’ revolutionary attitude toward women – Jesus who
flaunted social convention and engaged in prolonged, public conversation
with a woman, a Samaritan woman, and a sinful Samaritan woman at that!
It’s also a conversion story, as well as a story about the nature of
worship - what it is and isn’t - and it’s a story about how God loves
all people without exception. But because we are supposed to be
waking up to the meaning of our baptism during these Lenten days, I want
simply to let water tell the story: the water of Jacob’s Well, and the
Living Water that is Jesus.
Think of the water of
Jacob’s well as whatever it is you crave or yearn for, whatever it is
you set your heart on and are convinced will bring you happiness.
There are lots of possibilities, aren’t there? Not all terribly
worthy. Think of things like pleasure, popularity, prestige, even power.
Or maybe unlimited resources: a secure and comfortable future. These can
seem like promising waters, so why wouldn’t we thirst for them?
But if that’s all we thirst for, then the more we drink, the thirstier
we’re going to get. Cool, refreshing water can turn bitter and, before
long, turn into whirlpools that suck us in, or swirling rapids that
sweep us along and carry us downstream.
Jesus offered the
Samaritan woman a better kind of water and he offers the same to us.
In her thirst, she had been seeking love and acceptance wherever she
could find it, but time and again, husband after husband, she ended up
lonely and isolated, and still very thirsty. And we, in our own
search for love and acceptance - restless and often selfish - we, too,
end up lonely, isolated, unsatisfied, and still very thirsty. The
soon-to-be-sainted Cardinal Newman captured this beautifully in one of
his sermons when he said, “God who made the heart is alone sufficient
for it.” He was echoing the great St. Augustine who, when he finally
awakened to the real thirst of his own life, found himself crying out,
“You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless
until they rest in you!” Augustine knew what he was talking about.
He had spent years trying to satisfy his thirst: seeking fulfillment in
pursuits of the mind and pleasures of the flesh. And when he would begin
to awaken to what would truly satisfy, even then he was afraid to find
it. “Make me chaste, Lord,” he would pray, “but not yet...!”
Can you relate to
that? I think we all can in one way or another. We want to center
our lives on Christ – we wouldn’t be coming here if we didn’t. All of us
want to say “yes” to Jesus, but our yes to him is not always our only
yes. We hedge our bets and keep drinking from more than one well.
All too easily, we forget that Jesus said that it is the pure of heart
who will see God. And who are the pure of heart? I don’t
think Jesus was talking about physical or moral purity; he was talking
about the single-minded. That’s who the pure of heart are. The
great Danish philosopher and theologian, Soren Kirkegaard, had it
exactly right when he entitled his book, “Purity Of Heart Is To Will One
Thing.” Or, in light of today’s readings, we might say today,
“purity of heart is to drink from one well.” It simply won’t do for us
always to keep our options open, dithering between the promising but
puny wells that dot the landscape of our lives and the vast reservoir
that is God’s love.
My friends,
every time we celebrate the Eucharist we come as close to Jesus as the
Samaritan woman did. So my question today is: can we, with her, drop our
defenses, face the truth about ourselves, and quietly take Jesus at his
word? If we can, if we do, there will be life for us: abundant
life, and transformation, and hope beyond our imagining, for “Whoever
drinks the water I give will never be thirsty; the water I give shall
become a fountain within, springing up to eternal life."
Father Michael G. Ryan
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