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Today's readings are woven together by a single thread — water, thirst, and the surprising ways God responds to both. On this Third Sunday of Lent, the Church sets before us one of the most profound conversations in all of Scripture: Jesus and a Samaritan woman at a well in the heat of the day. In the encounter between these two thirsty souls, we discover who God truly is — and who we are called to become. In the first reading, the people of Israel have been freed from slavery in Egypt and now find themselves the wilderness, parched and angry. Their complaint is painfully human: "Is the LORD in our midst or not?" (Ex 17:7).
Notice what they are really asking. It is not merely a question about water. It is a question about presence. Is God with us? Does God see us? Does God care? Their physical thirst manifests the soul's desperate need to know that it is not abandoned. Instead of rebuke God instructs Moses to strike the rock, and water flows. God produces life-giving water. The place is named Massah and Meribah, "testing" and "quarreling," not a monument of shame, but a memorial of God's faithfulness in the face of human doubt. I've said it before, the wilderness is not a punishment, it is where God reveals to us who He is. And the lesson always begins with thirst. In the gospel, centuries later, at Jacob's well in Samaria, we find a tired traveler, a woman with a water jar, the midday heat. "Give me a drink," Jesus says (Jn 4:7). It is the most natural thing in the world. He is thirsty. He asks for water. The woman, astonished at the request basically replies: 'who me?' To which Jesus responds very openly: "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." (Jn 4:10) She is also, without knowing it, asking one of the most important questions in human history:Where do you get this living water? We can learn a lot by taking note in how Jesus encounters a soul. He knows her five husbands, her complicated present, her daily walk to the well at an hour when others are not around — Jesus sees all of this; and he does not condemn, but instead, he makes her an extraordinary promise: "Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again; but whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst; the water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." (Jn 4:13–14) She may not fully understand, but asks: "Sir, give me this water, so that I may not be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water" (Jn 4:15). This woman at the well is, in many ways, each one of us. We too try to satisfy our thirst, in relationships, achievements, distractions, pleasure, but it never fully satisfies, and we thirst again. The Israelites in the desert were not simply dehydrated, they were afraid that God had forgotten them. And we too, in our dry seasons of sickness, grief, disappointment, confusion, spiritual emptiness — we too cry out: "Is the LORD in our midst or not?" Lent is precisely the season when the Church invites us back to the well to seek the 'living water'. Also connecting Exodus and John's Gospel is the character of God, not just the image of water. Both stories show us that God is not waiting for us to be worthy before He provides. The Israelites are grumbling, testing, accusing God, and yet water flows from the rock. The Samaritan woman is an outsider, a person with a complicated history, and yet Jesus sits with her, speaks with her, reveals himself to her in a way he has not yet done to the religious authorities of Jerusalem. This is the logic of grace: it does not wait. It does not require us to deserve it. It flows, like water from the struck rock, precisely in the moment of our greatest need and our least deserving. Saint Paul tells us in the Second Reading: "God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us" (Rom 5:8). There is a practical question beneath all of this: "Where do you get this living water?" The answer: It is the Eucharist, "the fountain of life," as the early Church fathers called it. It is the Word of God, it is prayer, not the performance of prayer, but the real conversation, like the one Jesus had with the Samaritan woman, where we are known completely and loved anyway. The woman became a missionary. She went into the very city and people she shunned to say "Come see...". She who was thirsty became a source of living water for others. That is a movement the Gospel always makes: from our thirst, to encounter, to mission. When we have truly drunk from the living water Jesus offers, we cannot keep it to ourselves. We go back into our cities, our workplaces, our families — with something to offer. The rock struck in the wilderness, the well in Samaria, the pierced side of Christ on the cross, from which blood and water flowed (cf. Jn 19:34). The font of baptism through which we were reborn, the Holy Spirit dwelling in us. These are all the same water, the same grace, flowing from the same source: the inexhaustible mercy of God. On this Third Sunday of Lent, the Church invites all of us to come to the well, to hear, the words Jesus spoke to one weary woman on one hot afternoon in Samaria: "The water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." (Jn 4:14) The Lord is in our midst. Come, let us drink. Peace. Deacon Michel
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Hi, welcome to my weekly blog. I'm deacon Michel and I love blogging and the healthy exchange of constructive ideas. Now my mind has been known to wander on a million different things all at once so don't be surprised at what you find here. I often scratch my head and go 'Huh?' at my own thoughts. Feel free to leave a comment and share your thoughts with me.
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