Third Sunday of Lent, A March 15, 2020
Fr. Albert St. John the Evangelist, Jeanerette
“Is the Lord in our midst or not?” That question lurks behind everything. The rush on toilet paper in the stores, the question of what to do with kids out of school and people out of work, worries about food and water, struggles with boredom, the desire for relationships… the search for happiness. All these ask that question in some way; “Is the Lord in our midst?” If the answer is no, then it doesn’t really matter how much doomsday stocking you’ve done because you’re going to die eventually anyway, and it all comes to nothing.
What, then, does it mean if God is in our midst? That I don’t have to do any shopping or wash my hands? Not quite. Jesus doesn’t tell his disciples not to go buy food in town, only that he has “food to eat” of which they do not know. When he offers the woman at the well “a spring of water,” he doesn’t mean H2O will literally pour out of her forever. She still had to go to the well the next day. He also wasn’t just being coy with her and the disciples. He is offering the only food and drink that satisfies the human soul: God Himself.
“Is the Lord in our midst?” The way to answer is not with some pious platitude. Just saying “I believe God is with me and I’m okay,” isn’t enough. Those Israelites in the first reading – the ones complaining about water – they claimed to believe in God a few chapters before. Yet here they are, complaining against Moses and thus against God. “Why did you make us leave Egypt?”
“Egypt! You mean where you were slaves, where Pharaoh had the power to kill your children whenever he felt like it? Are you so thirsty that you would literally trade the lives of your children for a little water?” Apparently so. Can you see why God considered this complaint a sin? Their supposed faith was just words after all.
But true Faith is not just an assertion. When Paul says “we have been justified by faith,” the word he uses also means “fidelity,” which means to keep promises and to remain loyal. The problem with the Israelites was not that they felt doubt. It wasn’t that they felt thirst or worry. It wasn’t even that the questions crossed their minds. It was that they took the feeling of doubt and they embraced it. It was that they let the desire for water blind them. It was that, when the questions crossed their minds, they held onto them and expanded them.
Your feelings are not sins. Your desires are not sins. Even your thoughts are not always sinful. Sins are decisions. Doubt is natural. Every believer has moments of doubt that God is there and every atheist has moments they doubt that there is no God. For ancient Israelite and Christian alike, a feeling of doubt only becomes a sin when we decide to act on that doubt, when we decide to let that doubt be an excuse to do something wrong or not do what we’re supposed to do.
Could you imagine if the Israelites instead came up to Moses and said, “we are thirsty, where can we find some water?” What if they simply asked instead of complained, instead of the ridiculously dramatic claim that Egypt was better. Instead of whining, “Is the Lord in our midst or not,” they ought to have said “The Lord is in our midst, let us ask him to give us water, let us seek the water in faith.” And then, when they asked Moses, he would still have knocked to bring forth water from the stone, but without them falling into sin.
Not that sin stops God from loving them or us. Rather, sin stops us from receiving that love and returning it. The sin of the Israelites is bad because it nearly prevented them from getting the water that God provided and it did stop them from growing in the life of grace. Compare that to this Samaritan woman.
She is thirsty, so she goes to the well to draw water. No complaints, no drama, just the willingness to do what she has to. And God meets her there, in her need. Jesus offers water. He’s being metaphorical, talking about something more than actual water. He’s talking about the Holy Spirit, the forgiveness of sins, and the gift of baptism. Baptism, which causes God himself to dwell in a person, to be in their midst by a supernatural gift of faith, hope, and love.
She is a sinner, a big one. Jesus brings up her sin, not to shame her, but to clear the way, to show that, despite knowing her sins, he seeks her out. She tries to change the topic to a theological debate, but Jesus doesn’t give ground there either. Without condemnation for her sins and without conceding to her theological errors, Jesus points her to the truth, to himself. And, unlike the ancient Israelites, unlike many of the Jews in Jesus’ time, she believes.
This woman came to this well to get water – it’s midday in a desert – but suddenly she is so focused on this other kind of water, this deeper satisfaction of faith that she actually leaves the bucket behind and runs into town to proclaim the good news. And what do the other Samaritans do? They don’t buy in all the way, not right away, but they’re open enough to invite Jesus to stay. The ancient Israelites didn’t do that much – they rejected Moses’ first invitation in Egypt and they refused to go near God’s mountain when they were told to. These Samaritans are the “fields ripe for the harvest” that Jesus tells his disciples about. They are open and because of that, after two days, they get farther along than almost everyone else in the Gospel. They know Jesus is the savior of the world, that the Lord is in their midst.
So, what about you, [in the pew now or listening from home]? Is God in your midst or not? Is your fear of the virus crowding out your faith? Or perhaps it’s your anger at the decisions of leaders you disagree with? Or some other manifestation of your desire for control?
People will get sick. People will die – they die every day. Yet still every day we do what we can to save lives. More importantly, as Catholics we should spend every day trying to save souls because they all will die eventually. This does not contradict our effort to save lives. The woman at the well had to go back to that well eventually to get plain old water to drink, because she’s still human. Jesus’ encounter with her doesn’t erase her humanity or her human needs. It only reaches in to touch the even deeper need.
Stock up on what you need, but don’t be greedy. Find ways to help those who can’t get what they need. Pray, really pray for all affected. Follow the guidance of legitimate authority – whether it’s the government or the Church. Don’t put others at risk and then act like you’re the martyr. Being spiritual doesn’t make you immune to getting sick. But the fear of getting sick also doesn’t excuse your lack of faith.
Jesus leaves this Samaritan town and never returns, except in the sacraments years later. They had to keep going to the plain well, tending to natural needs. But they were not afraid. They learned not make these needs an occasion of sin. They, unlike their ancient ancestors, knew the answer to the question: “Is the Lord in our midst or not?”
If you have faith – real, living, acting faith – he is in your midst, even if you can’t come to Mass for a little while, even if you don’t have toilet paper, even if you die from Coronavirus or a car wreck, have faith. A living faith that prays, that endures suffering, that shapes your character, that gives you reason to have hope. And know that that hope does not disappoint.