Give me something to drink--thoughts on the Jesus and the woman at the well (for the 3rd Sunday of Lent)

Thoughts on the Gospel for the 3^rd Sunday of Lent 12 March 2023

 “Give me something to drink…”

--John 4:5-42

 

This Sunday is the 3^rd Sunday of Lent and our Gospel for this weekend is the story of Jesus and the woman at the well.  The basics are this: Jesus and the disciples have crossed into Samaria (just north of Judah) and they are tired and hungry.  The disciples wander off in search of food, and Jesus waits behind near a well.  It is around mid-day and a woman comes to the well to draw some water. Jesus asks her to give him a drink.  Which leads to a discussion about the well, about water, about husbands (the woman has had 5) and about where and how to worship and even about telling the truth. Often, when people talk or write of this story, they focus on the fact that Jesus is speaking to a Samaritan, or that she is a woman, or the fact that it takes place in the heat of the day.  Much has been made of the fact that the woman is alone.  To the Jews of Jesus’ time, the Samaritans were kind of like outcasts.  They were a people of mixed-blood and mixed-up religious practices; abhorrent to the people of Judah. Does this woman come to the well in the heat of the day all alone because she is even an outcast among her own people?

 

And those are all important questions, issues, fruitful for our contemplation.  But the thing that catches my eye is the fact that Jesus asks her for a drink.  That seems to me, the corner stone that I stumble over every time I read this story. It makes me pause and ask: why?  Not why did He ask a woman, or why did He ask a Samaritan, but why did He ask someone to give Him water.  Shortly after asking, Jesus says something that must have been very mysterious to the woman. He says:

 

“If you knew the gift of God

and who is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink, ‘

you would have asked Him,

and He would have given you living water.” (cf. 4:10)

 

Much is made out of that phrase “Living Water,” --faith, new life welling up inside of us, etc. But, what seems to me so very very important and too often overlooked is the “gift.”  Jesus refers to the gift that has been offered to her.  What is that gift? Of course, Jesus Himself might be the gift; the gift of new life and salvation.  But I think it is a mistake to rush into theologizing too quickly.  I think one of the mistakes we make when we read scripture is to turn away from the mysterious, and rush toward some kind of understanding—toward sense.  But, for me at least, one of the great things about the Gospels is how weird they are.  How uncomfortable they can make me –with my life, with my assumptions, with my self-image, even with my faith, my hunger, my thirst…

 

And so I go back to the thing that strikes me as most strange—that Jesus asks for water, He is thirsty, He needs a drink, and He –the Son of God—asks for help getting it. Like a small child asking an adult for a glass of water. They need help. They can’t reach the glasses up in the cupboard, or they can’t reach the faucet to turn on the water… So, we help them. And here, Jesus may have no way to dip water from the well—no bucket or container to dip down into the well. Like a child, His human nature may need her assistance to reach the water.  But—to my ear—there is still that strangeness of referring to His request as a gift.  What does that mean? How is it a gift? 

 

And that is when I remembered a feeling that came over me –quite often—when I was volunteering as a hospital minister.  I would visit people at the hospital to check in with them, to offer a prayer, to sit and visit if they were lonely.  I would go into a hospital room and try to help them in some way, to offer them some comfort, yet so many times I would walk out of those rooms feeling as if I were the one who had been ministered to, as if I were the one who had been given a gift.   And isn’t that the way it so often goes? That when we help someone in need, when we are kind to someone, we come away feeling renewed, feeling energized, almost giddy with joy (sometimes), as if we were the one who was blessed, the one who was given a gift.

 

And so I wonder, is the gift that Jesus gives the woman His need? An opportunity to serve Him, to comfort Him? To share herself with another, to—in a way—become more fully herself; through an act of generosity she becomes more fully the gift that she (that each of us) was made to be.

And this is where I wander off into the thickets, so if I sound a little crazy (or mysterious) I ask only that you bear with me and ponder whatever comes.

 

After the woman leaves Jesus to go tell her townspeople that she may have just met the Christ, His disciples come back with food and encourage Him to eat. And His reply seems to me another clue in this beautiful mystery.  He tells them:

 

“I have food to eat of which you do not know…

My food is to do the will of the one who sent me

and to finish his work.” (cf. 4:31-34)

 

His food is to do the work of God, to do God’s will.  To become more like His Father—loving, merciful; His sun shining on the good and the bad, His rain falling on the wicked and the just.  When Jesus gives the Samaritan woman an opportunity to serve, an opportunity to be kind and merciful, He is giving her the chance to become more like God—to share in the Heavenly food of the Father’s love.  When He shares His need with her, He opens a door for her to step through.  He offers her an opportunity to become more completely who she was made to be: a beloved child, made in the image and likeness of God.

 

I am wondering about this gift of need.  When I need help, I do not feel like a gift. I feel like a burden.  But, when someone comes to me with their need, their burden, I often feel more alive. As if I have been given a gift; as if I have thirsty for a long time, and someone has finally given me a drink of water.  Is the thirst we all have deep inside our soul, a thirst to serve, to console, to comfort, a thirst to be made complete by the chance to share ourselves, our abilities, our treasure, our gifts, with another.   The chance to give ourselves away… to become more fully like God by laying down our own life (even if only momentarily) for the sake of another.

 

The next time you need help, don’t hesitate to ask—to become the gift, the Living Water that someone else has been thirsting for –perhaps all their life.

Making Straight Paths (part 2) --Where does your path lead?

“A voice of one crying in the wilderness:

Prepare a way for the Lord.

Make his paths straight.”

John 1:23

 

It is almost a week after Christmas and I am still thinking about the Advent readings, especially this idea of making a straight path.  As my family might tell you, I am quite easily distracted, moved off task, redirected even.  My paths tend to be anything but straight—even when I drive!  I remember my first car, a white 1978 Honda Civic with a stick shift, no AC and only AM radio.  I remember how that car taught me the importance of shade.  And the blessedness of trees.  I cannot count how many times I had to answer the question: Why are you going this way? The freeway is faster. And my answer was always:  Memorial Drive is shadier—and you get to drive through the park.

 

I say this for two reasons; first, because I want to be honest. I am not someone normally concerned with making straight paths, nor innately inclined in that direct direction either.  However, as I have grown older and as life has become more complicated, I find that –especially when it comes to driving—that I tend to not take as much delight in detours as I once did.  I have a tendency these days to try and get home asap.  And stay there, if possible. And second, because I am about to take a detour.

 

It was the Sunday before Christmas, and I was driving some groceries over to one of my daughters (at UH).  Of course, our current car has air conditioning and even has one of those USB things that lets you listen to music off a thumb drive.  Which means I can download old Jack Benny Radio Shows and listen to them while I drive.  Some people listen to podcasts, others audiobooks.  I listen to 1940s radio shows.  Did you notice I just took a little detour? An aside?  Anyway, back to my story.  I was out delivering groceries, and hoping (as always) to get back home ASAP. I had important stuff on the agenda: plans to watch a movie with my wife and maybe even take a nap… I was making a straight path right back to my couch! I’m all about grabbing that gusto wherever I can! 

 

But the Lord had other plans. Heading back home, suddenly the traffic slowed, and then stopped and then inched forward bit by bit.  There was one of the many Houston traffic closures happening that weekend.  A bridge or something was being repaired and all the I-10 west traffic was being rerouted.  We had to stay on 45 headed north.  I wasn’t too frustrated because I was enjoying a jazzy number by Phil Harris’s orchestra, and we used to live in the Heights; I knew I could pretty easily find my alternate route home.  I would just exit North Main and drop by the old Shipley’s for a doughnut and some coffee and be home in no time.  I thought.

 

Apparently, everyone else did, too.  The North main exit was backed up onto the freeway, so I kept going.  I think I took the next exit—Patton?  Anyway, I got off, turned left and knew if I just kept going straight I would come to something I recognized.  So there I was, trying to make a straight path when out of the corner of my eye I saw someone I recognized—or thought I did. It was a friend who died about 2 years before. I slowed down and looked back, knowing it couldn’t be him and realized it was a homeless man. Thin, ragged, long hair, long beard, walking half bent over through a parking lot. I think I was still on Patton.  Just a block or two from the freeway.  I saw him and thought –how strange that he had looked just like our friend Forrest, and yet on second glance not at all.  And in the rearview mirror I thought I saw him lean against a wall and then kind of slump to the ground. 

 

It was a strange thing to see, but I was on my way home and actually in a bit of a hurry now with all the detours. I wanted to get home to that movie and that nap. So, I kept going. Kept trying to make that straight path… And then I thought of Forrest again, and how he would care for people when they were down on their luck. How many times he even came to take care of me and my family when we were feeling down on our luck.  How he would go out of his way to help just about anyone.  And suddenly I found myself turning around.

 

Another detour?  Perhaps, but I drove back and there the man was sitting on the pavement just outside the store, huddled up, with his coat pulled closed and his knees pulled up near his chest, his head slouched over.

 

I got out of my car and walked over to him.  Asked if he needed anything. Some money? He looked up with the eyes of the lost, as if the last thing he expected to see was someone offering help.  I got down on one knee beside him and we talked for a few minutes.  His name is Adolph.  And he wanted to know what church I went to.  He then told me about a church over by Mattress Mack’s store.  How kind they were to him when his brother died. How they helped him and took such good care of his brother for him.  I don’t know how long we talked, maybe 10 or 15 minutes. At some point he seemed done. His eyes looked away, exhausted, as if he needed to rest.  I gave him what money I had, and he looked at it like it was something strange and unexpected.  Before I left, I told him I would pray for him and asked him to pray for me. 

 

I got back in my car and drifted through the Heights toward Studewood and back to I-10, thinking about Adolph and about how I almost drove right past him.  There is that famous scene in John’s Gospel where Jesus meets a Samaritan woman at a well.  He asks her for a drink of water. She is surprised that a Jewish man would ask help from a Samaritan woman. But He says to her: If you only knew what was being offered you… (cf. 4:10) That phrase, offered you, seems to me quite important.  What was it that was being offered to her?  A thirsty man was asking her for water... He needed a drink and had no way of getting it. She was being offered a chance to help someone. To serve them.  In fact, she was being offered a chance to serve God…  Driving home I realized that in my hurry to get back home to my couch and TV, I almost missed that chance myself.  

 

Making a straight path doesn’t mean making an easy one, or making the quickest one.  As St. Teresa of Avila once said, “God writes straight with crooked lines.”  In my efforts to make a straight path, I need to remember that. What looks crooked to me, may be leading me straight to where I need to be.  And so, the question I am now asking myself is this:  Where does my straight path lead?  Does it lead straight back to the couch, or does it make room for a detour that might just become a blessing?