Third Sunday of Lent: Jesus Unexpected

The two figures who are at the heart of today’s Gospel form a most unlikely combination of people. One reason is because of a troubled history. About two generations after King David, the Jewish nation divided into two principle kingdoms—north and south.

Like the north and south of our nation, there were tensions, feelings of dislike and betrayal. And because Jerusalem was in the southern kingdom, the north simply established their own temple, a sacred high-place called Mount Gerizim. They established their own priesthood.

But eventually, the northern kingdom was invaded by a powerful foreign neighbor, and their eventual defeat occurred in about the year 722BC. Most of the citizens of Israel were deported, though some were allowed to remain. With time, people of different cultures and religions began to move into the area, inter-marrying and blending with the remnant of the northern Jews. These people came to be known as Samaritans, and while they always claimed to be true heirs of the tradition that came through Moses, the people of the southern kingdom regarded the Samaritans as deviants, impure, not truly Jews. By the time of Jesus’ birth, this tension between the south and north—or better said, Jews and Samaritans—was still very much alive.

So, regarding the Gospel we hear today: Jesus, was headed north from Judea, toward his hometown in Galilee. There were two main routes that he could take. He chose the shorter one that cut through the city of Samaria. But his purpose wasn’t just to have a short-cut.

Arriving at Samaria, he stopped to rest at the town well. It was at noontime that a woman came for water. Noon was the hot part of the day, a time when people avoided going out into the sun for such tasks. She did so, however, because she wanted to go precisely when no one else would be there. Why? She was woman who lived in shame, even among her own people—the result of having had had many men in her life. And it should be noted, that women didn’t go out into public places alone, yet there she was. All these things made it a most unlikely encounter: a woman alone in public, now suddenly conversing with a man; a Jew with a Samaritan; God’s sinless Son, with a woman whose life was marked by scandal.

In all the double-speak of St. John’s narrative, we begin to see that she needs something more than water: there’s something unresolved, a source of discontent in her life. In thinking about this thirst, I think of how I’m hearing from folks I care about, about their thirst to attend Mass and to receive the Eucharist. Thirst may be the word we would use, but perhaps it feels more hunger. I absolutely can appreciate that ache, that void you may be experiencing.

I think of this Samaritan woman who wasn’t expecting to encounter Jesus. I don’t think she had any idea that she would have needed anything that had to do with Jesus, yet found she was thirsting for something she hadn’t even considered.

I want to suggest that Jesus may be wanting to be encountered by you in a way you haven’t considered—a new way. While you may be pleading, “Why would God give me a desire that can’t be fulfilled….a taste for something to which I can’t have access?”, he may be saying, “Come with me into the desert for a while. You may have had plans for this or for that, but in my love for you, I’m calling you into the desert. It may not be what you want, and it might even be uncomfortable”.

As I mentioned in a recent communication, we’ve been so blessed to be able to attend Mass receive the Eucharist at many places near to us, each and every day. And for some of us, we’ve taken it for granted, even as we’re aware that there are people in remote areas, distanced from any church and her sacraments, and others, where their Christian faith has experienced persecution, and have had to grind through a reality that is only temporarily ours. While we may have come to feel entitled, it’s left us fearful now.

Do not fear. I believe our Lord, working through this present health crisis, and through the leadership of our shepherd, is simply calling us into the discomfort of the desert—to be with him, and maybe to suffer with him, to find him in a new and unexpected way.

In the Hebrew Scriptures, Isaac, Jacob and Moses encountered the women who would be their wives, at a well. With this in mind, the Woman of Samaria has come to symbolize the Church, the bride, and Jesus, her Bridegroom. But also, the woman represents all of us who are aching for something we don’t have. For the Woman at the Well, having been through five husbands, and now working on her sixth, Jesus became her seventh—seven, a number symbolizing perfection. In this seventh man, Jesus, she found one who would bring give what her emptiness longed for, at last giving her soul rest and contentment.

This present experience is the where Jesus wants to encounter us this Lent. He, the one for whom our hearts thirst, asks us to find him and the graces he will give us, in a different way.