John 4:5-42
In a church somewhere there was a
convert named John Smith who was not very well educated, but very
enthusiastic. He kept bothering the pastor, asking for something to
do, some assignment. Finally the pastor gave him a list of members
of the church who had not been to Mass in many months and who had
stopped contributing to the church. The assignment was to try to get
these people back to active participation in the Church. A few weeks
went by and the pastor forgot about the whole thing until one day he
got a letter with a check for 1000 dollars. The letter read “Dear
Father: Enclosed is my check to make up for all the weeks I've failed
to contribute. And I promise that I won't miss Mass on Sunday
anymore, you can count on that. By the way, please tell Mr. Smith
that there is only one T in Dirty and no C in Skunk.”
Today we meet the woman at the well.
She is honored in the Eastern churches as Saint Photini, a name which
means 'Equal to the Apostles”. In Russian that name translates as
Svetlana. In some parts of the Western church she is also honored.
Legend has it that she was an evangelist and a martyr.
I think the Samaritan woman reminds us
that being an evangelist is part of our calling as Christians. It is
not enough to pray, to fast, to give alms; we need to follow Jesus'
command to make disciples in whatever way we can. But it's certainly
true for me, and I'm sure for some of you, that making disciples in
this day and age seems unnatural; it seems to go against the current;
it seems to violate the separation of church and state. Why should
we rock the boat? After all, if God wants my friend or neighbor or
co-worker to hear his good news, why does he need me?
I think this story tells us so much
about evangelizing. Jesus is the first evangelist here, and he
begins with an ordinary conversation – he asks for water. I
imagine Jesus was actually thirsty; he wasn't just pretending. When
we enter into dialogue with someone about faith, our temptation is to
feel as though we are giving something to them that they need. How
much harder it might be, and maybe more effective, to find something
we need that they can give us. Mother Theresa won many converts by
this very technique. The story goes that she went into a wealthy
man's office in New York and asked for a certain amount of money to
open a center. He listened sympathetically and then told her that he
couldn't do it right now, but maybe another time. At the end of the
day as he walked out into the waiting room he saw her sitting there.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “You told me maybe another
time,” she said, “and this is another time.” She got the
money. She always needed something, and wasn't afraid to ask for it.
The same was true for Mother Angelica who founded EWTN. To be
vulnerable to the other is a wonderful first step.
Then Jesus identifies what he can give
her – living water. She is curious and interested. Notice that
Jesus uses what is going on at the moment. He doesn't talk about
lofty concepts; he uses what is going on to introduce her to the next
step. As the relationship grows, Jesus gently demonstrates that even
though he knows she is not perfect, he accepts her anyway. I think
this is the reason she recognizes that he is a prophet – not the
fact that he knew something that probably everyone in the village
knew, but that despite this he accepted her. Finally Jesus finds
common ground with her; she points out the difference between
Samaritans and Jews, and he points to a future time when true
worshipers will worship the Father in Spirit and truth. It is at
this point that she begins to recognize that Jesus is the Messiah,
and feels impelled to go and tell her neighbors, even though before
this whole episode she was probably trying to avoid them, because she
had come out in the middle of the day for water – a time when most
people would be in their houses out of the noonday sun.
Now obviously this encounter caused
the Samaritan woman to become an evangelist herself. Notice that she
didn't go to school or spend a lot of time wandering around listening
to Jesus. Her simple message was “I have found the Messiah! Come
and see!” There's nothing wrong with learning a lot about our
faith, in fact, that also is an obligation – we all should learn
all we can, so that we take advantage of the wonderful things our
faith can bring us. But we don't need to know much to evangelize; we
need to tell people that we have found the Messiah and then know
where to bring people.
The news is full of stories about the
decline in religion in our country. Even among people who identify
with a particular faith, those who actually participate are in
decline. In my rounds on Friday I met a woman who in answer to my
questions told me she was Catholic and she identified with a
particular parish – but it turned out that she hadn't actually been
to church for about ten years. She gave no reason except that she
had gotten too busy and gotten out of the habit. She did intend to
return someday, but when she was ready.
The Samaritan woman simply told some
of her friends what a difference Jesus had made in her life; he had
“told her everything she had done”. That's our job as well, to
tell our friends and neighbors everything Jesus has done in our
lives. And some of those might indeed someday say, “I no longer
believe because of what you have said, because I have heard for
myself, and know that he is the savior of the world.”
I was struck by the words of a friend
of mine, another deacon who is in his mid-eighties. He tries to
evangelize through his writing, among other things. And he said, “I
don't want to come before the Lord empty-handed.” The Samaritan
woman, despite her failings, despite living in what we might call a
state of sin, was not empty-handed when she came before the Lord.
And shouldn't you and I desire this as well? Next year this time
will someone you know have returned to Church because you have spoken
up, because you have said, “I have found the Lord, come and see?”
I pray that God will use us, the people of Saint Mary's, to bring
new souls to him and old souls back to him.
