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Third Sunday of Lent, Year A
March 23, 2014
Church of Saint Ignatius Loyola, Chestnut Hill MA
Joseph M. O’Keefe, S.J.
The Missionaries of Charity, the order founded by Mother Teresa, have
houses around the world. If you go into the chapel of any of those communities, you
will find two simple words written on the chapel wall: I thirst. The two words, of
course, quoting Jesus on the cross.
Today’s readings are about thirst: the literal human thirst for water, the
metaphorical human thirst for meaning, and Christ’s thirst to be in relationship with
us.
The literal human thirst for water. In today's reading from the book of
Exodus we hear the familiar story of the people of Isreal in the arid desert. You’d
expect them to be a little more grateful, having witnessed the saving deeds of God
when they were led out of slavery in Egypt by Moses. But here they are grumbling
and complaining, kvetching and whining. They might seem ungrateful, but if you
ever go to the desert of Sinai, you might be more sympathetic. It is barren, arid, and
harsh, mostly rock and sand. It made Egypt look pretty good. And of course, in such
a setting, water is a precious commodity, and without it, human beings cannot
survive. To be without potable water in a harsh and hot environment is hell. And so
this theme of literal thirst, physical thirst, is a thread through our readings, here
with both wondering people of Israel in the book of Exodus, and then with Jesus at
Jacob’ well in the Gospel of John.
It is helpful, I think, to consider the physical element of water and thirst. In a
lovely, brief film about thankfulness, narrated by Benedictine monk David SteindlRast, we are urged to be grateful for those things we often take for granted, like
plentiful clean water. Unlike most of the people who have lived on this earth, all we
need to do is open the tap. And, either by coincidence or by design, the United
Nations designated yesterday, Saturday, March 22 as World Water Day. According
to UN statistics, nearly 3.5 million people each year die due to inadequate water
supply, sanitation, and hygiene. Moreover, a billion people, one seventh of the
world’s population, do not hjave access to potable water. By 2025, the UN estimates
that the number will reach 1.8 billion. Reflecting on data published last month,
hydrologist James Famiglietti commented; "Are we just going to plunge into this
next epic drought and tremendous, never-before-seen rates of groundwater
depletion, or are we going to buckle down and start thinking of managing critical
reserve for the long term? We are standing on a precipice here."
Lent is a time to stop our regular routines, to reflect on our lives, to read the signs of
the times, and to be moved to action. Let’s be grateful that we can literally quench
our thirst. Let us also move out of the zone of privilege and comfort in which we
live, our ready access to Poland Springs or Perrier. Lent invites us to become aware
of the plight of so many who do not have this basic necessity of life. And let us, as
Pope Francis urged us when in his inaugural homily one year ago last Monday, be
guardians and caretakers of the earth, and be guardians and caretakers of those in
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need. As part of our Lenten observance, let us buckle down and resolve to make our
own the struggle of so many who, tragically, day after day, echo the words of Christ
on the cross, “I thirst.”
Today’s readings also prompt us to reflect on thirst in a metaphorical sense.
As Moses brought springs of water out a rock, so too God brings refreshment
precisely in those times in our lives when we feel that we are between a rock and a
hard place. Saint Paul reminds us, “Hope does not disappoint, because the love of
God has been poured into our hearts.” When we are parched, when things are at
their bleakest, when our journey to the promised land takes us through the barren
desert, we believe that God will somehow provide.
In the gospel, we hear the familiar story of Jesus's encounter with the
Samaritan woman. Jesus, tired and thirsty from the journey and in a moment of
what was probably blessed peace as the disciples were off getting food, we get a
glimpse of how Jesus interacts with people. As is often the case, Jesus puts people
above precedent. He initiated a relationship with a Samaritan, a group the Jews
despised. And not only was she a Samaritan, she was a woman, and in Jesus’
patriarchal culture, a conversation in the street between a rabbi and a woman was
forbidden. And, most importantly, she was a person with a reputation. The early
hearers of John's gospel would have known that she was shunned and rejected
because she was at the well at the hottest part of the day instead of the usual
morning or evening times. Jesus knew her history and accepted her and ministered
to her. He asked her to get him a drink of water, which would have made him
ceremonially unclean. And, of course, this encounter at Jacob’s well brings Jesus
another step closer to the cross – the religious authorities exasperated and
threatened by his a love that breaks boundaries and defies pious convention. The
Samaritan woman gave Jesus water from the well to quench his physical thirst. And
Jesus gave her water that cleansed her of her storied past. He invited her to never
thirst again, to drink that water of grace that will become a spring welling up to
eternal life.
Yes, the point of this story is that Jesus quenches our thirst. But there’s
another point, a more important point. By responding to Jesus in faith, we quench
His thirst.
Near the end of her life, in a letter to all of the Missionaries of Charity, Mother
Teresa made a passionate appeal to her sisters to draw closer to the thirst of Jesus
and take His statement “I Thirst” more seriously in their daily lives. She wrote:
Why does Jesus say “I Thirst”? What does it mean? If you remember anything from
this letter, remember this—‘I Thirst’ is something much deeper than just Jesus
saying ‘I love you.’ Until you know deep inside that Jesus thirsts for you—you can’t
begin to know who He wants to be for you. Or who He wants you to be for Him.
Jesus longs for our love—our attention, our ardent devotion, the total entrusting of
our lives to Him. At his most difficult moment He proclaimed, ‘I thirst.’ And people
thought He was thirsty in an ordinary way and they gave Him vinegar straight away;
but it was not for that thirst; it was for our love, our affection, that intimate
attachment to Him, and that sharing of His passion.
And so, as we prepare to share His passion at the end of Lent, let us resolve to
relieve the thirst of so many who have no access to life’s basic necessity, and let us
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allow Jesus to quench our thirst by loving Him, and let us quench Jesus’s thirst by
allowing Him to love us.