Third Sunday of Easter, cycle B

Luke 24:35 - 48

Some of you may be familiar with the Go Local magazine that you can pick up free in your grocery store. The last issue featured an article on a man named Timothy Payne. He was a soldier in Afghanistan, and one day he stepped on a concealed explosive device. He lost both legs and severely damaged one arm. He could not be fitted for prostheses because their was nothing to attach a prosthesis to. After a very long period of rehabilitation, a bout of drug addiction, suicidal thoughts and PTSD, he finally came out of his ordeal. He now goes around working to connect disabled veterans with their community resources and speaking to various groups about their problems. In his spare time he participates in various sports – scuba diving, long distance swimming, racing on his arm-powered tricycle – and he has put more than 100,000 miles on the van he has fitted out so he can drive it. And when people first meet him, he tells them, “I got blown up” and smiles. His body shows the marks of his experience; it can't be hidden.

When you think about this gospel we just heard, it sounds very familiar. Jesus appears, the disciples can't believe it, they recognize him, then the are joyful. But if you were trying to convince someone that you were not dead, would you show them your hands and feet? We know from the story of Thomas that Jesus risen body showed the nail marks in his hands and the spear wound in his side. Jesus did not conquer death and come back as though his battle never happened. He wore the signs of his death on his living body. He did not avoid death, he went through death; death could not stop him, but put up a pretty good fight. And that may be why the apostles were incredulous. Besides the hands and feet, they very well may have seen the marks on his head from the crown of thorns; they may have seen streaks of dried blood on his face. It's as though Jesus is saying, “I'm just like you, I'm alive to pain and suffering. I'm not immune. This body is real. The theologian James Allison said, “Jesus wore death on his body like a trophy, and he can show his death to others to allay their fears.” We Catholics unlike most other Christians, decorate our churches and homes and sometimes even our bodies with realistic images of Christ on the cross. At some level we see these as symbols of death conquered.

The other odd thing about this gospel story is that Jesus asks for something to eat and then eats it. Now if you read the gospels you might say, “You can usually find Jesus around food – the wedding feast at Cana, the meal with Mary and Martha and Lazarus, the meal Peter's mother in law prepared after he healed her, eating with Simon the leper, with the Pharisee, with Zaccheus – and when Jesus isn't popping up at banquets he makes them himself – the feeding of the crowds comes to mind. And of course, Jesus instituted the central sacrament of Christianity, the Eucharist, at a real meal, a Passover meal. If you read the gospels, you know he had a healthy appetite. So it isn't surprising that after battling death and conquering death, he does something his disciples recognize – he asks for something to eat. As you can tell, I think this is one of those places in the scriptures where we are allowed a little smile.

But more seriously, we can look at this event as Jesus putting on a show, or Jesus really desiring to eat something, Jesus physically hungry. If he is putting on a show then he is not authentic; but if he is truly hungry, then he not only has returned in his body, but in a way he has made holy those impulses of the body. If Jesus rose from the dead so that we could rise at the end of our lives, Jesus was hungry and thirsty and in need of human companionship after the Resurrection because that is human, truly human. Jesus in not merely carrying out a demonstration for us, that he is risen; He is by his actions blessing and making holy everything we do, little pleasures, great pains, fellowship with each other – as Jesus lives through his post-resurrection days, he shows us that our bodies are loved, are blessed, are immortal.

Why is this emphasis on the body so important? Because our bodies are the means by which we love and are loved. And when Jesus rises from the dead in the flesh, he makes human flesh sacred. And the consequences of that are incredible. If Jesus' body is sacred, so is mine, so is yours, so is the body of the woman pushing a shopping cart with all her belongings in it, so is the body of the man sentenced to life in prison; so is the body of the person with end stage Alzheimer's disease – human bodies are sacred because Jesus still even today lives in a human body. He didn't just cast it off and ascend into heaven 40 days after he rose from the dead. He continues for all eternity to share our humanity because he took on our flesh and will never leave it.

Thomas Merton had a revelation while standing on a street corner in Louisville. He wrote:

“I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all of those people, that they were mine, and I, theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness … Then it was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths of their hearts, where neither sin, nor desire, nor self-knowledge, can reach the core of their reality, the person that each one is in God’s eyes. If only we could all see each other that way all the time! There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed. I suppose that the big problem would be that we would all fall down and worship each other.”

The Resurrection of Jesus, the fact that God became man and conquered death for you and I, really does unite us all to each other and to Him. Let us be Resurrection people.

Second Sunday of Easter, 2018

John 20:19-33

After my father mustered out of the army, he and my mother and I moved back to Montana. My mother quickly got a job as a nurse, but my dad wasn't so lucky, and ended up taking a job as a farmhand for one of my uncles. This meant that he didn't get home except every other weekend. So I was given to my grandparents for several months. During this time, I was about four, and I remember how much I looked forward to seeing my dad. My mother stayed in nurse's quarters in the hospital so they would pick me up and usually take me out to lunch or the park or some activity. And after the big day I'd look forward to the next visit.

One day I was particularly naughty, I guess. I broke something my grandmother valued after being told not to keep running in the house. As my grandmother swept up the pieces, she said those words which strike terror into small hearts: “Just wait till your father hears about this!” But by the time my dad blew in again, I think she must have forgotten her threat because my father treated me just like he always had.

The apostles are in a locked room. If you read the accounts of the rewsurrection in the other gospels, you are told that they were fearful. In Luke, they think Jesus is a ghost and they are terrified. John, or gospel writer of today, doesn't mention fear, but I think we can assume they were afraid – afraid of the Jewish leaders, afraid of the Roman soldiers, afraid that if they went out someone would recognize them as disciples of Jesus – but maybe what they were really afraid of was what if Jesus returned as he had promised?

Everyone knew that when one king conquered another, that king's supporters would be deported, sometimes blinded or maimed, and often put to death. What would Jesus do if he came back? They had, after all, deserted him in his time of need; Peter had denied knowing him three times. If Jesus came back, the least they could expect would be a serious scolding – and in the Gospel of Mark Jesus does speak to them about their lack of faith. And certainly if Jesus was to come back and this time show forth God's power against the enemies of the Jews, they would have nothing to do with it; they, who had been his closest friends, would be out.

But Jesus appears and offers them his peace. Not once but twice. And then he tells them that they have the power to forgive sins. Sometimes we read what Jesus said as justication not only for the sacrament of reconciliation, but also that if the priest chooses to not forgive you, you are stuck with your sins. But Jesus may be saying something to all of us – he may be saying, “I have forgiven you and now go and forgive each other, because unless you forgive every sin against you, you won't have peace.” In other words, Jesus shows mercy and instructs the apostles to do likewise.

And that is probably Thomas' problem as well. When the disciples tell him they have seen the Lord, he notices that they are still in the same room; and they don't show any effects of having been scolded or kicked out of the disciple's club. They are, rather, full of joy. And I think it's interesting that when Thomas refuses to believe, they continue to include him in their group. They are already passing on the mercy that they received. Thomas may not believe, but he is still their friend.

And finally Jesus appears and offers to fulfill Thomas' conditions for him to believe. And we don't read that Thomas took Jesus up on this. Instead he drops to the ground and says, “My Lord and My God!” Thomas has experienced the mercy, the forgiveness, that Jesus offers with his whole being, not just his intellect. And we know that Thomas was probably as great a missionary as Paul; stories from the first couple of centuries have him founding communities up and down the Arabian peninsula and into southern India, where he was martyred. Thomas didn't leave a paper trail like Paul did.

So Jesus whose friends betrayed him, deserted him, denied knowing him, not only offers complete forgiveness and mercy, but commissions them to show mercy as well, through the forgiveness of sins. And while you and I can't forgive sins in Jesus' name as our priests can, we can forgive in our own names, those sins against us. And we can strive to forgive as Jesus did, offering mercy and love to the people who have offended us.

Because if we choose not to forgive, it not only keeps a barrier between me and the person who offended me, but it also impairs my own spiritual life, because in not forgiving, in not showing mercy, I cease to imitate Jesus' example.

So this weekend, this Mercy Sunday, imagine Jesus offering you his peace, and take advantage of the Sacrament of Reconciliation. And pray that as you receive the mercy that He offers, you will have the courage to offer it to others. As we learn to forgive we begin to restore the world and bring about the kingdom of heaven.

Easter Vigil, 2018

Mark 16:1-7

The Gospel of the Vigil of Easter which we've just read seems a little anticlimactic, or a better word is that it's a downer. Where is Mary Magdalene meeting the risen Christ in the garden? Where are the disciples on the road to Emmaus? Where are the overjoyed apostles who exclaim to Thomas, “We have seen the Lord!”. Instead, we have three frightened women who are as it says, “utterly amazed”. And I wish they had included the next verse, which reads, “Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.” And it's the place where Mark stopped writing. Some time in the early second century, someone who wasn't happy with that ending added a longer ending in which they describe Jesus appearing to his disciples, scolding them for their lack of faith, and making other appearances. But why would Mark have wanted to end his gospel with those words, instead of going on and describing several joyful appearances of Jesus to his friends?

The Gospel of Mark is the oldest of the four gospels – twenty to thirty years older than Matthew and Luke, maybe fifty years older than John. By the time the other writers were putting their gospels together, the Christian church was pretty well established; there were pockets of Christians, even whole towns of Christians, throughout the Roman empire. Sometimes we think of Christians being persecuted, and they were, but persecutions were not carried out relentlessly and usually the authorities were content with killing the leaders and the prominent citizens who embraced Christianity. But during Mark's time, there weren't nearly as many Christians, and the separation from the Jewish religion had not been complete. And there were many temptations to abandon Christianity because you could get better jobs and have a higher social status if you weren't part of this odd little sect that claimed to have been founded by someone who had been crucified and then rose from the dead.

If you look at Mark's gospel, there are two currents running through it. The first is that Jesus kind of goes about his ministry healing people and working miracles, not doing a lot of teaching; and whenever he does a great work, he tells the witnesses not to tell anyone. But they do anyway, and eventually Jesus has become so notorious that he can't go into a town without being mobbed. In other words, as he goes about doing good, demonstrating what the kingdom of God will be like, he becomes the outcast; he trades places with the lepers, the blind people, the crippled people that he has healed so they can go back into society. Even at the very end of his life, if you remember at the Garden of Gesthemene, there was a young man, a follower of Jesus, who was almost caught by the guards, and he slipped out of his linen garment – the Greek word is the same as you would use for a burial shroud – and runs away naked. Later, in the tomb where Jesus had been buried, his burial shroud is folded up, and the same young man – maybe –is clothed in a white robe, signifying baptism. He is sitting there in the otherwise empty tomb. In a way, Jesus has traded places with the young man, who had he been captured would probably have also been put to death. And maybe Mark means for the young man to be a symbol of the Christian, who escapes death because Jesus takes his place.

The other theme in Mark is how blind people are. The apostles, especially Peter, never quite figure Jesus out. James and John miss the point entirely and ask to be seated at his right and left hand when he comes to his kingdom. Even when he works miracles, the people get upset with him. Do you remember the time he drove demons out of a man into a herd of pigs? Instead of rejoicing over the freeing of the poor possessed man, the people of the town beg him to leave them. Or when he heals someone on the Sabbath, and the authorities decide he is healing with the help of the devil. And there are times when he can't work miracles because the people have no faith. The only people who get Jesus in the gospel of Mark are the foreigners – the people who weren't even Jewish. And it is in Mark where Peter is first called “Satan”.

And that brings us back to the gospel passage we have just read. The women had gotten up early that morning, probably heartbroken, with the intention of embalming Jesus' body. They couldn't have done it the day after his death because it was the Sabbath. So they make their way to the tomb, perhaps hoping they might enlist some men into rolling the stone back. Now Matthew has the same theme – they wonder about the stone, when suddenly an angel pops up and rolls it back. Not so in Mark. There's no indication that they young man is an angel, and nothing in the text that says he rolled the stone back. He is just there, a witness to the resurrection, who tells the women, “Do not be amazed!” Notice, angels always say, “Do not be afraid!” so this isn't an angel. The young man goes on to tell them that Jesus is not here, he has been raised. Go and tell his disciples he will meet them in Galilee.”

Now remember, in Mark Jesus tells people to tell no one what they have witnessed. Here the young man tells the women to go tell the apostles – but in the next verse it says they fled in terror and told no one. And clearly, they don't understand.

I think Mark is telling his readers, and that includes you and I, that for Christians, we are told about the Resurrection – that's how all of us come to know about it, someone tells us that it happened. The first Christians – a handful of people, relatively speaking – who were eyewitnesses, all died about 2000 years ago. And that's sort of how God works; he never makes us believe, he always gives us an out. And that is Mark's point. What do you do with this news? What do you do when you are told that God became man, suffered, died, and rose again? Do you run in terror and tell no one? Do you accept that Jesus rose from the dead but just put that information away in a corner of your mind where it can't do any harm? Perhaps you don't believe at all. Many people, even Christians, have developed ways of explaining away this central event in the history of the world. Or do you, like the first witnesses, like the saints of every generation, go through your life showing everyone that Jesus is risen, because here you are, speaking his words, doing his deeds, bringing peace and love to the world, carrying out those tasks he himself did and called on his disciples to do?

Jesus is truly risen, we believe this. But on this Easter vigil, how does that make a difference in your life and my life?

Palm Sunday, cycle B

Mark 14:1 – 15:47

I spend a lot of my time visiting elderly people. Many of them are impaired, physically or mentally or both. Sometimes over a relatively short time I'll witness further deterioration. One of the things I am told over and over again by many of these people is “I don't want to be a burden”.

Recently the assisted suicide issue has reared its head again. We will probably have it on the ballot next time, and I predict it will win. The last time this was on the ballot it barely lost and I don't see our society getting more religious. Part of the reason assisted suicide is popular is because people dread being a burden, dread being helpless.

We've just heard the Passion of Jesus read from the Gospel of Mark. First we heard the triumphant entry of Jesus into Jerusalem – pretty short and to the point. Then we hear the Passion. It took too long when I was a little kid and it takes too long now. If you take the time Mark devotes to the Passion, it makes up a bit more than one fourth of his Gospel. And that is probably as it should be – Christians see Jesus as a great teacher, and that's true, but Jesus didn't teach anything terribly new. What makes Jesus central to Christianity is the fact that he suffered and died and rose again. The word “passion” conveys to us modern people intense emotion, and we naturally associate Jesus' suffering with that. But the word really means “to have something done to you” – it comes from the latin root “passio” which means “I am moved”. One fourth of Mark's gospel tells us about when Jesus was helpless, when people were doing things to him, when he had no control over what was going on.

Saint Louis Martin, the father of Theresa of Liseaux, had seen his wife pass away from breast cancer; had seen three children die in early childhood; had known hardship, including a time when he and his family were forced to care for soldiers involved in a civil war. His daughters, all but one had entered the religious life and he had very little contact with them since they were in a cloistered order. One day he told his pastor that he worried about not becoming a saint because he had not really suffered. God must have been listening, because over the next ten years until his death he suffered from physical and mental deterioration due to vascular disease involving the brain and needed to be taken care of.

I think all of us will experience, if we have not already done so, some point in our lives when we will be helplessness. We will be like Saint Peter, whom Jesus predicted would be lead where he did not want to go. Some of us will know that we won't get better; the rest of our days will be increasing helplessness, increasing loss of physical and mental abilities. And we naturally dread this, we don't want to think about it. And when those days come we might very well say, “I don't want to be a burden!” and we may even feel sympathy for those who have the courage, or perhaps it isn't courage, to end their lives with the help of a few pills.

But Jesus has been there; he's been helpless, in such pain that he probably couldn't think straight, experiencing minutes that seemed to last hours, hanging there between heaven and earth. And someday, Jesus may invite you or I to enter into his passion. I dread that invitation. But I hope I remember, and if not, I hope someone reminds me, that it is my body hanging on that cross; it is my body that will be placed in the grave; and God willing, it is my body that will be raised on the third day, a body with no limitations, a body like Jesus' resurrected body..

That, after all, is the reason God became Man, lived and died for us, so that as he told us, “... this is the Father's will which has sent me, that of all which he has given me I should lose nothing, but should raise it up again at the last day.” With our baptisms we were given to Jesus, and nothing of us will ever be lost.

Fifth Sunday in Lent, Cycle B

John 12:20-33

Those of you who know me know that I've always been fascinated by religion. I lapped up the catechism in grade school, and could rattle off all the answers to the profound questions. In high school I used to go to the public library to read about church history, and under the influence of my grandmother, about other denominations and in fact, other religions. At Catholic University I reveled in the religion courses which offered whole new insights; my childish faith was being replaced by an adult faith. And my circle of friends felt the same way. We would discuss religion and philosophy far into the night. By the time I got to medical school I knew a lot, and enjoyed defending my faith, as it were, when confronted with criticisms by my classmates who came from other traditions. I especially liked clearing up misconceptions about the Catholic Church.

And the interesting thing was, whenever I was involved in studying religion, talking about religion, defending my faith – I always felt holy. I didn't feel as holy when I was studying mathematics or medicine, physics or biology.

In medical school I was persuaded to undergo some spiritual direction. My spiritual director was a professor of dentistry at the University of San Francisco, also a member of Opus Dei. When we would meet, I would try to steer the conversation towards some obscure point of theology, or a difficult scripture passage. He would gently steer it back to the question, “where are you in your relationship with Jesus Christ?” My silent answer was always, “I really know more than most people about my Church, about scripture, about Jesus Christ. My relationship must be pretty good.”

I made a private retreat during those years. I would meet with the retreat director once or twice a day, and spend the rest of the time in silence. I had a lot of questions on my mind, and I didn't know the answers, which really disturbed me, because I like to know the answers. But these were questions about my future – my career choices; should I marry the girl I loved or become a missionary? (Spoiler alert – I married the girl I loved). Should I move across the country to take post graduate training, or stay in the west where I had family? For the first time in my life I didn't have all the answers.

One night I was praying, and I felt a sudden immense sense of peace. I could almost hear a voice in my head saying “Wherever you go, I will be with you.” And suddenly, all the questions stopped swirling around in my mind and I left the retreat a different person.

“Sir, we wish to see Jesus,” some Greeks tell Philip. They did not want to learn about Jesus; they did not want to study the Jewish scriptures; they weren't even interested in watching him work miracles. They wanted to see him, they wanted to experience his presence, his person. And we don't know if they ever did. However we do know that when Jesus was informed of this, he said, “The hour has come...” Up till now, he has been saying, as he said at Cana, “My hour has not yet come.” And we know that in the part of John's gospel that follows, we hear about Jesus passion, death and resurrection. We hear about how the apostles who have been with Jesus during his ministry, desert him; we hear about how even his resurrection does not immediately convince them. And Peter, who has betrayed him, who has fearfully hidden from the Jews, who has gone back to fishing because he doesn't know what to do with himself, finally sees, really sees Jesus on the shore and jumps into the water crying out, “It is the Lord!”. For now he really sees.

When the Greeks want to see Jesus, it is a signal to Jesus that the next part of the divine plan is underway. Up to now, he has been showing a few people what the kingdom of God is like. He has been instruction a few people about the things that really matter. He has been demonstrating to a few people how true leadership means being a servant. And at some point, each of them was given the privilege of seeing Jesus, seeing the real Jesus, the one who comes to you and says, “Wherever you go, I will be with you”. And on the strength of that moment, the history of the world was changed.

There are many reasons God became Man, lived and taught, suffered and died, and ultimately rose again to live forever in and with his people. When his hour did come, Jesus made it possible for everyone from then to now to the far off future, to see him.

I have never had another experience like the one at that retreat I made during medical school. But I continue to see Jesus. I see Jesus in you, my fellow parishioners. I see Jesus in dedicated teachers who continue to pass on the faith to young people. I see Jesus in those who give up their time on Saturdays so that people who are confined to their homes, or who are grieving over a loss, or who are going through difficult times will have a couple of good meals. I see Jesus in young engaged and married couples who have decided that they want a relationship in which Jesus plays a central role – they know that marriage is for making saints. I see Jesus in the adult children who care for an aged parent who is gradually losing their mental and physical faculties. And so much more.

Jesus resurrected lives in his people. And he is there to be seen, if you only have the eyes to see. And perhaps as you come to see Jesus, you will be like Philip and Andrew and want to show Jesus to the world in your own life, in what you do, in what you live for. And someday you also may hear those words in your heart, “Wherever you go, I am with you.”

Fourth Sunday in Lent, cycle B

John 3:14-21

One summer during my college years I worked for the Forest Service in Montana. I worked alongside a couple of other college students, and we were supervised by a retired marine sargent who had never married; his life had been in the marine corps. And he spoke a different language – every other word was a curse word or a blasphemy or described some act which was probably anatomically impossible. But Sarge knew what he was doing, and we admired him. He was strong, smart, didn't complain, and knew how to do things. So naturally, as the summer wore on, we were becoming clones, as young impressionable people often do when they are around older people they admire. It got so when we talked to each other the birds would fall out of the sky.

One day my dad came to visit. My dad never peppered his speech with colorful words, nor did his father. So we were sitting there over a cup of coffee talking, and even though I was on my guard, I let slip a few words that I had learned from Sarge. My dad didn't say anything, just paused and asked me another question. I could feel my face getting red and the shame building. I had just come forward into the light, as the gospel says, and my wicked deeds were exposed. The experience was so intense that to this day I am limited to words like “darn it” and “heck” when I need to express my deepest feelings.

Today's gospel seems harsh on first reading. If you believe, you will not be condemned, but if you don't, it's all over. The very fact of not believing condemns you. And naturally I think of all the good people I know who don't believe in Jesus – and sometimes I even wonder if I have the right kind of belief. Is it just a matter of acknowledging who Jesus is – the Messiah, the Word, the Son of God – as some of our brothers and sisters believe, or is there more to New Testament belief. Because if you read all the way from Matthew to Revelation, you would not be at fault in thinking that belief is key – not behavior. Of course there is plenty about behavior in the New Testament, but Jesus and Peter and Paul and John all make belief central to salvation.

I think that's why this passage of scripture is so important; because it tells us a few things. First, even though the gospel talks about condemnation, it makes it clear that God did not send his Son into the world to condemn it but to save it. And God did this out of love – he loves the world and all that is in it, especially you and I – so much so that he sent his only begotten Son.

How does Jesus do this? John compares Jesus' saving action to light, and then points out that there are people who do wicked things and as a result, hate the light, fearing that their deeds will be exposed. But there are others who are not afraid of the light, knowing that there works will be clearly seen as done in God.

Salvation could not happen any other way! When God made us in his image and likeness he made us free to choose the light or the darkness. If he were to save us by force or coercion, we would not be human, or at least our humanity would be bypassed. So God offers salvation while totally respecting our freedom. So what then is belief in His Son all about?

The first part of belief is to recognize that God to our great surprise, loves us. All through our lives we have to work at this – how can he love us when such and such happens, when bad things happen to good people, when I am subject to sickness and death a all the other things that can happen. Sometimes it's hard, but we have to keep working at believing this. The first part of belief is to know something as fact.

It's possible to say, Jesus is Lord, or I believe in Jesus and mean it. But maybe it's just like saying that it takes eight minutes for the light of the sun to hit the earth, or that there are no two snowflakes alike. The second part of belief is for the fact in question to affect us. And the last part is to trust that changing our lives because of the belief is worth the effort. All of this, of course, is something God is involved in. Everything that is good comes from God, and belief in Jesus is no exception.

And finally belief in Jesus should inform everything in our lives; we should not have anything hidden. Are there things in my life that aren't consistent with believing in Jesus? Yes, of course. I've got pockets of selfishness; thoughts which aren't in keeping with Jesus – there's plenty of dirt that I would just as soon keep in the dark. But someone who believes in Jesus is constantly trying to change his life so that it can all be in the light, because that's the consequence of belief.

So one of the things we should concentrate on during lent is to hold ourselves up to Jesus, and see those parts of our lives which hide from the light of Jesus.

That's what being a Christian is all about. We look at Jesus and then look at ourselves. Jesus shows us where we are on the mark and where we miss the mark. And the amazing thing is that if we try to become more like Jesus He will help us. He invites us to be his brothers and sisters. He shares the Father with us.

The Holy Spirit lives in us, and helps us to become more and more like Jesus. The light that Christ brings into the world is not a very bright light. But it is a light that draws those who love God and love their neighbor. And when we are drawn to this light, and we ast off everything that keeps us from this light, we will have become part of the body of Christ, and we will participate in his resurrection

During this lent let us live in God's light and let him show us what we need to correct and what we need to improve. Because Lent is our annual effort to become more like Jesus Christ.

Third Sunday of Lent, cycle B

John 4:5 - 42

Today we have a choice of gospel readings. We could read the story of the man born blind, which is the cycle B reading. Or we could read the story of the Samaritan woman at the well, which is the cycle A reading, and the reading for the first of the scrutinies. The third, fourth and fifth Sundays of Lent are special days when those adults who are entering the Church are “scrutinized”. In a public ceremony associated with the regular Sunday Mass, they are welcomed by the congregation and given certain tokens of their Christian profession. And the readings are supposed to teach something as well to people who are entering the Church.

The story of the Jesus' encounter with the Samaritan woman is unusual. Most bible scholars don't think this was written by the writer of the Gospel of John. In some very old manuscripts of the gospel of Luke you can find the story, but again, it is written by someone else. But by the end of the second century, as far as we can tell, it became part of the Gospel of John. It's an unusual story, as well, and again, it may be that it is something along the lines of a midrash – a commentary in the form of a story designed to teach a lesson. So let's look at it that way.

First, we learn that Jesus meets the woman at a well. If you were a Jew you would right away know what that was about. Isaac sent his servant to find him a bride, and he met Rebecca at a well. Jacob found Rachel at a well. Moses met Zipporah, his future wife, at a well. Wells were where you went to find a bride if you were a young man looking for one. In that time and place, it was the woman's place to draw the water for the day's use.

Then we notice several things. The woman does not have a husband. In fact, Jesus points out that she is living with a man who is not her husband. Women generally drew water in the morning and it was a social ritual where everyone caught up on the gossip; our Samaritan woman is there in the middle of the day, when no one else would be around. In other words, her marital status has probably made her an outcast.

Jesus goes on to point out that she has had five husbands. This is significant, because after the Jewish people who inhabited Samaria were driven out by the Assyrians, they settled the land from five other peoples, who had also been driven out of their lands. The goal of the Assyrians was assimilation, and the best way to do that was to mix the people up. So the five tribes who inhabited Samaria all had separate gods. But in those days, your god stayed with the land, and you wanted to get on good with the local god, who in this case was Yaweh, so the Samaritans adopted a primitive form of Judaism, where they offered sacrifice at the old temple and used the first five books of the bible. When Jesus says the man she is living with is not her husband, and she has had five husbands, people would understand that He was speaking about the Samaritan people.

The Samaritan woman first calls Jesus “a Jew”. She moves on to “Sir”, then recognizes that he is a prophet, then concludes that he is the Christ. The gradual unfolding of Jesus' identity to her leads her to drop everything to go tell the other people in town, who after hearing Jesus, come to their own belief that this is the Messiah.

So why does the writer of the story have the central character a Samaritan woman? Partly because Samaritans were sort of half Jew and half gentile; they represent in this story that Jesus has a universal message – something he alludes to when he talks about true worshippers, who will worship the Father in Spirit and in truth, no longer confining their worship to this mountain or that.

So in the story we just heard, we see Jesus seeking out someone who is deeply mired in sin, who is shunned by the people in the village, who despite living with someone not her husband, really has no security at all. But Jesus seeks her out and offers her living water. She who represents both Jew and Gentile, is a symbol of Christ's future marriage to his church, and a symbol of the universal message Jesus has for mankind.

It is through Jesus that her eyes are opened and she gradually comes to recognize that He is the Christ. But it is not enough to come to this recognition. Those who really know Jesus as Christ feel compelled to broadcast the news, to bring others into that realtionship, and the Samaritan woman does what the Church will do, bringing others to faith in Christ.

And you and I are helpless to save ourselves, but we can be sure that Jesus seeks us out, and is always there offering his grace, his supernatural life which will give us new life. But what we need to take away from today's gospel story is that those who have met Jesus have received a great gift. When God gives us gifts, they are not to be held on to, but rather, to be given away. In that way we make room for more gifts, and others receive God's gifts from our hands, and come to recognize Jesus as well. So on this day let's resolve that since we have been given living water, water that never runs dry, let us offer that to our loved ones and all those we meet.