Third Sunday of Lent (Cycle A)

For What Do You Thirst?

Exodus 17:3-7; Romans 5:1-2, 5-8; John 4:5-42 

Poland Spring, Perrier, Deer Park, Dasani, Evian, Aqua Fina. If you recognize those brands, you might be among the millions of Americans who drink bottled water. Last year, Americans spent over ten billion dollars on bottled water and sales are rising.

It seems that many Americans aren’t satisfied with the water that flows from their taps at a cost of less than half a penny per gallon. Instead they seek out bottled water at a cost of one to four dollars per gallon. To get that water they have to go to the "well." They have to go to ShopRite, Weiss, Wal-Mart, Costco, Target, or their local convenience store. Or they have to arrange to have the "well" come to them by having bottled water delivered to their home.

In today’s gospel we hear about a woman who came to a real well seeking to have her thirst quenched. What she got was more than she could ever have imagined.

The scene begins as Jesus arrives, tired and thirsty, at Jacob’s well located in Sychar in the heart of Samaria. It’s noon—the hottest, most sun-scorched time of the day. And there at the well is a Samaritan woman, going about her daily routine of drawing water. She went alone at noon, not the usual time for seeking water. But the woman was not the usual kind of woman one would find in the village. She had been married five times and was now living with a man who would not give her the benefit of a marriage ceremony. This Shady Lady of Sychar was rejected by men and shunned by women.

Driven by thirst she comes to the well. There she encounters Jesus, not the usual Jew she was used to meeting. This Jewish man breaks the taboos of his day by addressing a Samaritan and by publicly speaking with a woman.

It’s a bizarre conversation that they have. At first it seems that they’re having two different and disconnected conversations. He speaks of living water and she thinks of physical water. He tells her that if she has this water it will quench her thirst forever. Jesus is talking about her soul, her spiritual life, and she’s thinking of her body. And of all people—a woman, an enemy despised by the Jews, an adulteress—of all people to her Jesus gives that living water. This journey of faith, which began with an innocent and harmless request for a drink of water, radically changed the woman’s life. Jesus goes from asking her for a drink, to offering her living water, the living water of acceptance and a relationship with God—things for which this scorned woman had been thirsting.

For what do you thirst? For what do you really yearn in our culture of such great excess and unmeasured need? What, down deep in Your heart and soul, do you really want?

For what do you thirst? Jesus said, “Blessed are they that hunger and thirst for righteousness. They will be satisfied” What is the liquid diet that you feed yourself on? If you drink in love and truth, mercy and compassion, gentleness and sincerity, honesty and charity, humility and simplicity, we have Jesus’ pledge that we will have our fill.

For what do you thirst? Did you ever realize that just thinking about being thirsty can make you thirsty? For all too many, the choice is to satisfy thirst by drinking from the sugary fountains of the world around us. We dip our 16 ounce cups into the streams of modern life – we try to quench our thirst with pleasure, power, prestige, possessions, popularity, pornography, and perversion. Well as they say, you are what you eat, (or in this case, what you drink).

For what do you thirst? In today’s gospel, Jesus says, “I am the living water. Whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst.” Each of us has the choice to draw only H2O from the well every day or to also accept the living water that Jesus offers us. What is this living water? Put simply we could describe this living water as the very life and love of God, poured into us—grace. As the water we drink becomes one with our bodies, so God becomes one with us. This water never goes dry. This water is never withheld from those who seek. This water cannot be constrained. But if we don’t receive this living water from Jesus every day, we will look for satisfaction in ways that will never please, never satisfy, never nourish.

Lent is a special season of grace in the Church each year to enable us to drink more and more of this living water that Jesus offers us. And so, this Lent, let us draw from the WELL OF PRAYER. The Living Water which we are invited to drink at this well is one that quenches. It satisfies; for through prayer we deepen our relationship with the God who will never disappoint, the God who knows us better than we know ourselves, the God who accepts us as we are, but encourages us to be more than we are. Only this water can satisfy our thirsting, longing, craving, to get to know him better. The water from the well of prayer is a water that nourishes. It makes us stronger to face all that the world throws our way.

This Lent, let us also draw from the WELL OF FASTING, SACRIFICE & PENANCE. Through imbibing in its life-giving water, we will find ourselves satisfied and full, for it disciplines our bodies from the desire for the carbonated soft drinks of self-indulgence and lust that leave us with empty calories that are ultimately both unsatisfying and unhealthy. And through its purity, we will be cleansed, reconciled and made worthy recipients of the salvation won for us through Jesus’ passion, death and resurrection.

And this Lent, let us draw water from the WELL OF CHARITY & ALMSGIVING. Through it, we will be satiated with the love of Christ, inebriated by a sense of service to those who are in need, giddy by the opportunity to give all in his name. We who have tasted of this lively water must in turn become an abundant, excessive, overflowing fountain to others. As we hear Jesus say in the Gospel of John, three chapters after today’s gospel passage, “Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.” (John 7:38)

Streams of living water... That’s what the Son of God offered the Samaritan woman at the well and that’s what he offers us as well: life giving, life renewing, life refreshing water that can satisfy those who drink so that we will never thirst again—Living water that satisfies our longings in life. Living water that nourishes our innermost selves. Living water that promises to give life to our faith. Living water that supplies us with an endless source of strength and encouragement no matter what we face in life. Living waters! That’s what we need and that’s what Jesus offers us this morning. That’s what Jesus invites us to drink – right here and always.

The Parable of the Prodigal Son 3

The Prodigal Brother

Now the older son had been out in the field and, on his way back, as he neared the house, he heard the sound of music and dancing. He called one of the servants and asked what this might mean. The servant said to him, ‘Your brother has returned and your father has slaughtered the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’ He became angry, and when he refused to enter the house, his father came out and pleaded with him. He said to his father in reply, ‘Look, all these years I served you and not once did I disobey your orders; yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my friends. But when your son returns who swallowed up your property with prostitutes, for him you slaughter the fattened calf.’ He said to him, ‘My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.’ (Luke 15:25-30)

I don’t understand! It isn’t fair! I was there when he asked my father for his inheritance. He so much as disowned himself from us. He no longer wanted to be called son. All he cared about were the riches my father worked so hard to gain.

I saw the tears in my father’s eyes when he took those riches and started out the gate. I felt the pain in his heart as he watched him continue down the path. He never once turned and looked back! He was proud of the dishonor he bestowed upon my father’s house.

This thoughtless son humiliated our good name. The embarrassment I felt when I went back into the fields with the other workers! They knew what happened. I had to endure their stares and gossip; and I had done nothing wrong! There I would sweat under the burning sun from morning till night, listening to the workers tell me stories of my brother’s sins in faraway towns. The mockery continued until I pretended I no longer cared.

And that was hard in the beginning, because I did care. I hoped then that my brother would come to his senses and return to us. But each time I heard another story about his life of scandal, I began to care less and less. Finally, my pain turned to anger, and my anger to disgust. In my mind, he was gone forever, and no longer my brother – just as he wanted. I could bear no longer to hear the stories about him and demanded the workers keep quiet about such things. In time, my brother became a distant memory, one I had hoped to forget about once and for all.

And then today, after breaking my back in the field, my hands and fingers ingrained with the very soil this lost son had spat upon, instead of coming home to find rest, I find singing and dancing, for the sinner had returned!

I don’t understand it. He dishonored my father. He lived an adulterous life. He gave his money to gambling, and drink, and sin. I was the one who stayed behind! I did everything that was asked of me! I did what was right and noble and good! Yet my brother receives the reward. Everything has been restored to him!

There is something that I do understand, though. My father has compassion, forgiveness and love far greater than mine. And it was he who suffered the greater pain, yet he still forgives. I have respected my father for all he has taught me, and I respect him now. I will surrender my pride and bury my anger. And, while I don’t fully understand, for my father’s sake, I will show my brother compassion. For my father has taught me how to forgive, and so . . . I too will forgive.

The Parable of the Prodigal Son 2

The Forgiving Father

While he was still a long way off, his father caught sight of him, and was filled with compassion. He ran to his son, embraced him and kissed him. His son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I no longer deserve to be called your son.’ But his father ordered his servants, ‘Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Take the fattened calf and slaughter it. Then let us celebrate with a feast, because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost, and has been found.’ Then the celebration began. ( Luke 15:20-24)

What would you have done? Perhaps you think me foolish. Perhaps I am, but they say love makes fools of us all. And I do love my two sons more than anything else in the world.

A great fortune I intended to leave him. Everything that I had worked so hard for I wanted to be his so that his future would be secure. In life I shared with him all that I was; in death I wanted to share all that I had. What a legacy I had hoped to bequeath him! My fortune, yes, but more . . . a family name: honored and respected. A name that stood for something. And values . . . like kindness and generosity, a love of what is right and good and decent, and a wisdom that finds its origin more in the heart than in the mind. All this I had hoped he would be heir to. I prayed that these things would have an even greater value to him than gold and silver.

Sure I was devastated that day when he came to me and demanded his share of the inheritance. It wasn’t so much the money, but the fact that he wanted to leave, to separate himself from me . . . that’s what hurt the most. He was going to get the money eventually anyway; couldn’t he wait? It was as if he were saying that my fortune was more important to him than I was to him. Since he was going to inherit it at my death anyway, it was as if he was telling me that my life and my love did not have value to him, only my money.

I guess I could have said no. I could have refused to give him the inheritance. In my heart, I knew he wasn’t quite ready for the responsibility that comes with such great wealth. But how could I hold him back? Sometimes you just have to let go. My heart was to the point of breaking as I saw him pass from my sight as he went off to pursue his own pleasure. As he left, my prayer was with him: “May you be as rich in virtue and wisdom, my son, as you are in gold and silver. And when there is nothing else, know that you will always be rich in my love.”

Oh I heard the reports: the gambling . . . the drinking . . . the prostitutes. I heard it all. It wasn’t so much the squandering of his life’s fortune that hurt so much, it was the absolute rejection of everything I hold dear, the values that I tried to impart to him throughout his life. How could he reject everything I have stood for all my life? I was so deeply hurt, but I thought how much he must be hurting now after hitting rock bottom. How humiliating it must have been for him to be tending swine on that farm, an animal considered so low, so dirty, so despicable by my people that, under our law, we are forbidden to eat of its flesh.

What should I do, I wondered. Should I forget him as if he were dead to me? Should I perhaps go to him and force him to come home? No, I believed in him. All I could do was hope that he believed in me. I had faith in him that he would somehow see the error of his ways and would reject the sinful lifestyle that he had taken on. At the same time, I prayed that he would feel secure enough in my love for him to know that my forgiveness was his for the asking. And so, I climbed a high hill top every evening. With every sunset, I hoped to catch a glimpse of my returning son. I waited. And I waited. And I waited.

Nothing could have prepared me for our reunion. I had played the scene over and over in my mind. What would he say? What would I say? Although I had played the scene over and over, time and time again in my imagination, I never imagined I would react as I actually did. When I caught sight of him a long way off, I was so overcome with emotion that I totally lost myself and ran to him. I was moved to tears when I drew closer. Words choked in my throat and I could say nothing. The well-rehearsed speeches were gone from my mind. Nothing I could possible say to him anyway could possibly convey my joy. And so, I let my tears and my embrace do the talking for me.

Finally, he broke from my embrace and through his tears said, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. O no longer deserve to be called your son. Treat me as you would one of your servants.” How difficult it must have been for him to admit to himself he was wrong – how much harder it must have been for him to admit it to me! It must have been difficult for him to say, “I’m sorry.” How much easier for me to say, “You’re forgiven.” As my riches were his, so too my love and my forgiveness was his.

I called to one of my servants, “Sandals on his feet!” – only slaves are barefoot and he is not my slave but my son! . . . “A ring for his finger!” - a signet ring with the family seal, for he has come home and is once again a member of my family! . . . “Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him! Take the fatted calf and slaughter it! Let us celebrate with a feast, for this son of mine was dead, and has back to life; he was lost and now he has been found!”

Perhaps you think me foolish . . . perhaps just a sentimental old man. Perhaps you think I should have reacted differently . . . with anger . . . with resentment? Should I have held back my love and forgiveness till I had made him sweat a little? Forgive, you say . . . but never forget. I am who I am, and I must be true to myself. And so, my forgiveness is not halfhearted; it is total . . . complete . . . unconditional. After all, he is my son and I love him. What else could I do? What would you do?

The Parable of the Prodigal Son 1

The Prodigal

Then Jesus said, “A man had two sons, and the younger son said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of your estate that should come to me.’ So the father divided the property between them. After a few days, the younger son collected all his belongings and set off to a distant country where he squandered his inheritance on a life of dissipation. When he had freely spent everything, a severe famine struck that country, and he found himself in dire need. So he hired himself out to one of the local citizens who sent him to his farm to tend the swine. And he longed to eat his fill of the pods on which the swine fed, but nobody gave him any. Coming to his senses he thought, ‘How many of my father’s hired workers have more than enough food to eat, but here am I, dying from hunger. I shall get up and go to my father and I shall say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I no longer deserve to be called your son; treat me as you would treat one of your hired workers.”’ So he got up and went back to his father. (Luke 15:11-20)

The call me the “prodigal,” and I guess that name suits me better than any other, for indeed that’s what I am: reckless . . . wasteful. And I guess there are a few other names you could add to the list, like black sheep of the family . . . ingrate . . . drunkard . . . sinner. But there is one name, though, that I never appreciated and one I fear I’ve lost forever. That name is “son.”

I’m not going to bore you with all the sordid details; I’m sure you are familiar with them all too well. I guess that comes with the territory when your life is as infamous as mine.

I’ll admit to you that I’ve always been headstrong. I’ve always been selfish and self-centered. That always seems to be the root of it, doesn’t it? I’ve always had to have things go my own way. I’ve always had to have what I wanted, when I wanted it, in the way I wanted it. So I guess it’s not all too surprising that I did what I did. A lot of people in my predicament would point a finger, blame others. But I have no one to blame but myself. I have been travelling a road toward self-destruction practically my whole life.

I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. There’s nothing much else to do while tending swine all day but think. There’s nothing like rolling around in the mud with a bunch of pigs to set your priorities right. The thing is, I had it all and now I have nothing. I sunk about as low as one person can sink. But it’s not the money. And it’s not that I’m hungry. It’s a lot more, for you see, I didn’t just squander my inheritance; I squandered my father’s love and trust. Money somehow I can recoup; food I can always scrounge for. But my father’s love . . . I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get that back.

Yes, I hunger. I do long to fill my stomach with the pods on which the swine are fed. But I hunger much more for my father . . . for his love and forgiveness . . . for him to make things right again like he used to when I was young. Yet I know that I am the one that has to make things right this time.

And so, I go back to my father. Perhaps I have a chance at his forgiveness. If he won’t take me back as his son, perhaps at least he’ll have me as his servant. I know that my father is tender and compassionate. He is slow to anger and rich in kindness and faithfulness. He is known to forgive faults and transgressions and sins. Today I will test where my father’s real wealth lies. Today I will see just how rich my father truly is!

Believe me, I’m not here looking for your sympathy, but neither do I want your judgment. For look within yourselves, my friends, and perhaps you’ll find a little bit of the prodigal there too. Some of you out there, are you really so much different from me? Yes, I squandered my inheritance, but are there gifts that you too waste? Gifts misused? Gifts unused? Gifts not even recognized? Yes, I was a drunk. But are some of you perhaps inebriated with a sense of your own self-importance or with power? Yes, I went to prostitutes. But what are the false loves that you chase after? Money? Possessions? Prestige? Look within yourselves, my friends, and perhaps you will find a bit of me. Perhaps the road home is a journey we both need to take.

And so, I’m off. Wish me luck. I don’t know how all of this is going to turn out. The journey is a long one. But it’s worth it when you have a father like mine!

Ash Wednesday

Things to Give Up for Lent

• Taking those you love for granted 
• Feeling sorry for yourself 
• Promising more than you can deliver 
• Thinking of greener pastures 
• Losing your temper
• Denying your gifts 
• Trying to please everyone
• Doubting you can change 
• Trying to get everything perfect
• Never saying you’re sorry 
• Blaming yourself 
• Doing the right thing for the wrong reasons 
• Believing only in the possible
• Justifying your anger 
• Doubting your goodness 
• Thinking about money
• Looking for easy answers 
• Lying to God
• Listening only to yourself 
• Expecting others to solve your problems 
• Wanting to be in control
• Looking the other way
• Needing to be effective
• Doing what everyone else does
• Having to be right
• Being Bored
• Patronizing people 
• Carrying a chip on your shoulder
• Complaining 
• Cursing the darkness
• Carrying grudges 
• Denying your obsessions 
• Denying your limitations 
• Making snap judgments 
• Blocking out what you don't want to hear
• Denying that you are loved