March 23, 2014: The Third Sunday of Lent
Exodus 17:3-7: The Lord answered Moses, ”Strike the rock, and the water will flow from it for the people to drink.”
Psalm 95: If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.
Romans 5:1-2, 5-8: … We boast in hope of the glory of God. And hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.
John 4:5-42: A woman of Samaria came to draw water. … Jesus said to her, “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.”
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March is the Month of St. Joseph
Scripture Notes from the Sourcebook:
THE FIRST READING: Today’s reading is set in the context of Israel’s desert wanderings before they arrive at Mount Sinai. God’s marvelous care for them as evidenced in their exodus from slavery in Egypt seems to have been forgotten. In fact, the people are dissatisfied and resentful. Ever faithful to his people, God, who shortly before enabled them to pass through the waters of the Red Sea out of slavery into freedom, now gives them water from the rock to sustain their lives.
RESPONSORIAL PSALM 95: Our antiphon highlights the theme of today as the day to hear God’s voice in obedience and trust. Today is the day of salvation. Note the reference to Massah and Meribah (from today’s First Reading) in the last stanzas of the psalm.
SECOND READING: We are placed in right relationship with God through God’s initiative and grace. Faith is the way of our access to God and gives rise to hope for the glory of God for which we are destined. All is God’s initiative and love, in Jesus who gave his life for us.
THE GOSPEL: If only we knew the gift of God, and who is saying to us “give me a drink. …” John’s account of Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman would have us reflect on the reality of our own baptismal life. Do we really know the gift we have been given? Do we know, are we in personal relationship with Jesus who is the giver of life? Today’s account of the Gospel calls not only the catechumens who are preparing for Baptism, but all of us who will renew our baptismal vows at the Easter Vigil, to drink freely from the water that Jesus gives. It is the fountain of eternal life (see John 7:37).
PASTORAL REFLECTION: The richness of today’s account of the Gospel truly takes volumes to unpack in imagery and intention. Place yourself in the shoes of the woman, for we each have a past we want to hide and yet God knows everything about us. The world shuns the sinful, and yet the least among us are the ones who fully “get God’s mercy” usually quicker than the “profoundly religious.” Reach outside of your circle of influence this week and have a conversation or meal with someone you might usually overlook. Be conscious of how you are seen by others, how God sees you, and how you see yourself. If you were to look into the water of the well, would your image be refreshing to others? Ask God for the “water” you need to be fully you; and once you are refreshed in God’s nourishment, be this person of vibrant grace at all times.---2014 Sourcebook for Sundays, Seasons & Weekends
Jesus met the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well.
The One who covers the earth with clouds asks water of her.
Oh, what a wonder!
The One who suspended the earth on the waters asks for water.
– Byzantine Vespers
Gospel Commentary from the Irish Dominicans
Any storyteller would wish to have been the author of this story; it is one of the best-loved passages in the New Testament. The way in which the woman is led from incomprehension to dawning awareness at a deeper level is splendid. The setting and the imagery (well and water) hold the story together and lead the reader, along with the Samaritan woman, to that deeper level.
The image in the second part is bread. These two images then - bread and water - hold the entire scene together. Bread and water are simple realities in themselves, but how essential! Hunger and thirst are able to command our full attention. Every reader of the story soon realizes that Jesus is speaking of a deeper hunger and thirst. The emptiness of the heart is an even more painful condition than physical hunger.
We know all about this today, despite (or because of) the many things we fill our lives with. We can imagine - but sometimes scarcely - what a deeply satisfied heart would feel like. The great 19th-century preacher C.H. Spurgeon let loose a torrent of eloquence on this subject. The disciple of Christ, he wrote, "finds in religion such a spring of joy, such a fountain of consolation, that he is content and happy. Put him in a dungeon and he will find good company; place him in a barren wilderness, he will eat the bread of heaven; drive him away from friendship, he will meet the 'friend that sticketh closer than a brother….' Sap the foundation of his earthly hopes, but his heart will still be fixed, trusting in the Lord. The heart is as insatiable as the grave till Jesus enters it, and then it is a cup full to overflowing. There is such a fullness in Christ that He alone is the believer's all."
Hunger and thirst will bring even enemies together. "Samaritans came to him and they asked him to stay with them." This is just the opposite of what one would expect; Jews were not welcome in Samaria. When religions divide and make enemies of people, we can be certain that they are not seeking God but only division and enmity. The mind is expert at distinction and division; but a heart seeking God is able to overcome division.
The mind is even able to make an enemy of God, driving him out of the heart, leaving it empty and dried up, choosing to dwell on thoughts of condemnation and guilt. Food in a cupboard only mocks my hunger; it has to become mine by eating. Faith too has to become mine. "It is no longer because of what you said that we believe," said the other Samaritans to the woman, "for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Savior of the world." We could become experts on the contents of the cupboard - and die of hunger and thirst. --- Donagh O’Shea, for Today’s Good News, the website of the Dominicans of Ireland-________________________________________________________________________
My soul is thirsting for the living God:
When shall I see God face to face?
-- Psalm 42:2
We must flee like deer running to the fountains of water. The thirst which David felt, let our soul too feel. Who is that fountain? David said, “For with you is the fountain of life.” My soul must say to the fountain, “When shall I come and behold your face?” For the fountain is God. – Ambrose of Milan, Fourth Century
If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts. -- Psalm 95
Like the Samaritan Woman by the Well
Lord, won’t you come and quietly speak
as if asking me for one cup of water first
like you did the Samaritan woman who came
to draw water out of Jacob’s Well?
You know that since I’m a sinner
I lack courage –
Speak quickly, please,
I want to hear directly from you today
who I am
and who you are
and what our encounter means.
I keep drawing water for you
from the bucket of daily life
in my small shabby bucket
but won’t you show me a way
to draw water without any bucket at all?
From the moment you took your place beside me,
deep pure well of water that you are,
every day has been a new festival for me.
My long stagnant sorrow and thirst
like drops of water in my jar
have risen up to dance, all smiling now.
The happiness of meeting you is such
I may forget for a moment how sinful I am;
I hope you will forgive me?
Lord, the happiness of loving you
can really not be kept hidden.
Grant me now to go running farther
like that Samaritan woman beside the well
who left her pitcher and ran to the village –
to bring many others to you
and also
to tell about the living water –
--- by Hae-In Lee, a Benedictine nun and poet in Korea
The Samaritan woman simply didn’t fit any of their social standards. Mary of Bethany simply didn’t accept any of their role definitions. Mary Magdalen was indeed a bold and brazen woman. And they made no bones – any of them – about their commitment to Jesus. NO bones at all about either his call or their intention – in fact, their compulsion – to carry on his will and his wonderful presence in their lives. The Samaritan woman faced them head on. Mary of Bethany persisted in her vocation. The women of Jerusalem went on ministering to him while all the others hid. Mary Magdalen, remember, went right into their midst – it was forty-fours gathering, or perhaps a synod, I think – to minister to him and to proclaim his resurrection. “What is that woman doing in here,” the men said. “Send her away.” And they went to the tomb to see for themselves “because they did not believer her,” the Scripture reads. “We have no more need of you,” the men of Samaria said. “our place is in the kitchen,” Martha, the well-conditioned woman, said. But Jesus said back to all of them: “She is doing what you are not doing; she’s preparing me for my burial.” And Jesus said, “But she has chosen the better part, and it shall not be denied her.” And Jesus said to the woman, and to the woman only, “I am the Messiah.” And Jesus said, “Mary, don’t stay here. You go and tell Peter and the others. …” -- Sr. Joan Chittister, OSB
“Perhaps it is no wonder that the women were first at the Cradle and last at the Cross. They had never known a man like this Man - there never has been such another. A prophet and teacher who never nagged at them, never flattered or coaxed or patronised; who never made arch jokes about them, never treated them either as "The women, God help us!" or "The ladies, God bless them!"; who rebuked without querulousness and praised without condescension; who took their questions and arguments seriously; who never mapped out their sphere for them, never urged them to be feminine or jeered at them for being female; who had no axe to grind and no uneasy male dignity to defend; who took them as he found them and was completely unself-conscious. There is no act, no sermon, no parable in the whole Gospel that borrows its pungency from female perversity; nobody could possibly guess from the words and deeds of Jesus that there was anything "funny" about woman's nature.”
― Dorothy L. Sayers
We have entered the desert of Lent … we need God’s Living Water.
The desert teaches us how to carry our cross alone and in the steps of the Lord, as He carried his alone. – A Monk
The crowded bus, the long queue, the railway platform, the traffic jam, the neighbor’s television sets, the heavy-footed people on the floor above you, the person who still keeps getting wrong number on your phone: These are the real conditions of your desert. Do not allow yourself to be irritated. Do not try to escape. Do not postpone your prayer. Kneel down. Enter that disturbed solitude. Let your silence be spoiled by those sounds. It is the beginning of your desert. … In the desert, you discover your true name – and God calls you by that name. – Alessandro Pronzato
CONFESSION, RECONCILIATION & RETURNING
In confession, the breakthrough to community takes place. Sin demands to have a person alone. It withdraws her from the community. The more isolated a person is, the more destructive will be the power of sin over her, and the more deeply she becomes involved in it, the more disastrous is her isolation. Sin wants to remain unknown. It shuns the light. In the darkness of the unexpressed, it poisons the whole being of a person. This can happen even in the midst of a pious community. – Dietrich Bonhoeffer
No matter how far we have wandered, no matter how much damage we have inflicted on ourselves, God still loves us and still wants what is good for us. That’s why God continues to pester us with discontent and uncertainty when we do wrong. That’s why God never lets us be fulfilled by anything other than God. That’s why God continues to offer us forgiveness.—Daniel E. Pilarczyk
O thou great Chief, Light a candle in my heart: That I may see what is therein, and sweep the rubbish from thy dwelling place. – --prayer of an African schoolchild
Conscience: the inner voice which warns us that someone may be looking! – H. L. Mencken
I will not cut my conscience to fit this year’s fashions.— Lillian Hellman
When in doubt, tell the truth. It will confound your enemies and astound your friends. – Mark Twain.
Forgive me, most gracious Lord, if this day I have done or said anything to increase the pain of the world. --- F. B. Meyer
Sometimes the landscape of my soul seems like this burnt hillside, the wind rattling orange leaves on black twigs, the soil full of ash between the stones. Sometimes the landscape of my soul seems like this terrible waste of dead trees. Walking this afternoon among the charred remains I found a black stump sprouting leaves and new grass thinly veiling a delicate oak sapling in this, the ravaged landscape of my soul. – Susan Fisher
Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive Mercy.
And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And I pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I
too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgment not be too heavy upon us….
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still.
Pray for us sinners now and the hour of our
death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.
---T. S. Eliot, from “Ash Wednesday”
Reflection for March 23, 2014: THE THIRD WEEK OF LENT
Here we are, at the start of the third week of Lent, and I don’t know about you, but I am very far from fulfilling the promises I made to God when we gathered here on Ash Wednesday. Well, OK: As far as the remember you are dust part of it goes, I am definitely thinking a lot about dust right now, but that’s mainly because my house is so full of it, and every time the wind comes up a little more seems to seep in through the crevices and coat everything I own. Trying to clean any of it up – which is certainly long overdue (and definitely penitential in nature) may count as a Lenten activity, as far as it goes. But it doesn’t go very far, in any real sense. Because when it comes to the heart of the matter – to Repenting, and turning away from sin and being faithful to the Gospel – I simply haven’t accomplished all that much. In fact, to be honest – something I don’t necessarily enjoy being, at least when I know I’m not doing a very good job at whatever it is I’m talking about – I am not a very reformed person yet. In fact, I am not even slightly reformed. At least not if you go by the way I actually live. I think wonderful thoughts, of course, about being a better person – extremely beautiful, holy, devout and lovely stuff about reforming myself and leading a brand-new life in Christ – but then, you know, those first five minutes go by and I actually have to climb out from underneath the blankets and get out of my nice warm bed and deal with the real world and the real folks who share it with me. And wouldn’t you know it, almost before I know it, I’ve gone and acted just like myself again – which is not very saintly at all, if you haven’t noticed that yet. It’s as if all my prayers and resolutions are little more substantial than soap bubbles – lovely, wispy, rainbow-like creations that burst and vanish as soon as they bump into hard reality. It’s a real bummer, and not just for me; just think of all the poor people who are forced to interact with me, on an everyday basis, in all my cranky, sinful and un-reformed reality.
Although I suspect that’s true of most of us. We all have such good intentions, you know, we pray such beautiful, heart-felt prayers – and yet at the end of the day we’re still the same faulty, flummoxed, frightened little mammals we were to start with. I’m like Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, who “always gave herself very good advice, although she very seldom took it.” Or as Paul put it somewhere: I know what I ought to be doing, and yet I don’t do it – and I know what I shouldn’t do, but I do it anyway. Although Paul used rather more elegant language (and many more grammatical clauses) to say the same thing. So anyway, here I am, and there you are, and it’s the third week of Lent, and honestly, if we’ve been hired to build the City of God, I think the Lord ought to fire the lot of us and hire a new contractor.
Fortunately, the Lord is more merciful, and more patient, than we are. (If he weren’t, we would all be in trouble!) And one of the ways God shows his mercy is through the things we call sacraments. One of which is the sacrament of Penance, or Reconciliation.
That’s the sacrament we’ll be celebrating this week at Sacred Heart, during the special Lenten Retreat’s Tuesday evening session. We’ll also have a chance to learn about Reconciliation – the true meaning of that sacrament, as well as of all the other sacraments that God has given us to enrich our lives and help us find the right path.
I remember going to Confession when I was a little kid, especially during the one year (sixth grade) that I spent in a Catholic school – the entrenched and powerful ritual of it. It was a cleansing experience, but also a guilt-inducing one; I lived in terror that I’d miss a Confession, be hit by a meteor and die in mortal sin and then roast forever. And you had to go to confession every week before Mass, or else … imagine some ominous music here, and visions of worst nightmares of Purgatory. Our church has changed since then, and I’d say mostly for the better. So many of my childhood confessions were formulaic, like filling out a list for the grocery store: “Let’s see, I have here X number of packages of being disrespectful to my parents, and Y number of cans of fighting with my brothers.” And, there was an unspoken sense among us kids that you had to take exactly the right amount of time – if you were too quick, everybody assumed you were lying, and if you took too long, well, they wondered what kind of mischief you’d been up to. We’re more relaxed now, as far as the format goes – but Confession is still necessary. Not just good, or helpful: Necessary for our spiritual life and salvation. And I’m afraid I too often neglect it. It’s another one of those things Paul talks about – the things I know I should do, but don’t seem to do.
Patricia Hampl, writing about going to Confession after an absence of many years, says: “I didn’t even know what confession was anymore.” Fortunately, she had a compassionate priest: “The sacrament, he said as if to himself … is not really about sin. It is about hardness of heart. Hardness of heart … the ball of pride and fear and misery that makes freedom so difficult. The sacrament, he said, is about freedom.”
And so it is. Many of us worry about confessing to a priest who knows us, rather than a stranger. It can seem awkward, at least in anticipation, like interrupting a dinner party to announce “My dog made a mess in your lawn.” But the thing is: We are not confessing to a priest, as such; we are confessing to God. But we need to speak the words out loud to someone who knows how to listen, because we need to hear our own voices, to put our faults into words and share them out loud, in order to make our repentance real and lasting. We need to say certain things out loud the same way we need to say “I love you” to the people we truly love. How much more do we need to say “I’m sorry” out loud to God? Confession is not a heart-to-heart chat with an old buddy over drinks; we’re not there to justify ourselves or blame or people or explain that it’s really not our fault, we’ve just been misunderstood and wronged by the world. No: We’re just there to acknowledge that we are the people we know – and God knows – that we are; to say, basically, “Lord, I’ve been acting like a jerk for a long time, and I’m sorry. But I can’t seem to fix it on my own. Please help me to do better next time.” That’s what it means, to go to Confession. I’ll see you there this week. -- Diane Sylvain
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