Scripture Reflection for the Third Sunday in Lent:
Exodus 17:3-7
Psalm 95:1-2, 6-7, 8-9
Romans 5:1-2, 5-8
John 4:5-42
Preaching on this story from John’s Gospel, I like how St. Augustine put it. Describing the dialogue between Jesus and the Samaritan woman, he said that the Lord was “little by little finding a way into her heart.”
Layered, veiled, critical and pointed at times, what the Lord was ultimately doing in his conversation with this woman on the margins was drawing her close to him. Carried by his words and her interest and desire, Jesus draws her to him “in spirit and truth” and then says to her “I am He” (John 4:24-26). The conversation, you see, is mystical; it’s revelatory.
I also like how St. Augustine said that we should “recognize ourselves in her.” That makes this story from John’s Gospel also about us. That means these words may little by little find their way into our hearts too.
Indeed, that’s how the Church has long read this story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman, as a story that is also about us. For centuries, this passage has been read during Lent in association with the ancient practice of the scrutinies.
Over the next three weeks, by ancient custom, the Gospel readings are all from John. They were proclaimed alongside the final purifying rites which the Church applied to those seeking baptism; they still are. Recalling the ancient context, however, is important as we listen to these stories over the next several weeks.
You see, as rites of exorcism and repentance, the scrutinies in ancient times were often mysterious and somewhat frightening. Sometimes involving physical examination or hissing at the devil, strange and primitive things like that, the scrutinies in antiquity were dramatic renunciations of the demonic, the symbolic performance of the rebellion of conversion, the revolt started from within the kingdom of Satan, the fallen world, liberating the faithful for the kingdom of Christ.
This, it’s helpful to remember, was the liturgical setting in which ancient catechumens heard this story. It was clearly meant by ancient Christians to be heard as a parable of their own conversion, a conversion which they saw more clearly to be an act of cosmic rebellion against the rule of Satan rather than, as many see it today, the mere expression of religious preference.
What I mean is that in the past conversion was conceived in far more radical terms. Which is precisely what is worth remembering as we read this story from John today in tamer times and alongside less exciting rituals, for it helps us to understand that what we are still talking about here is real conversion, deeper conversion, complete conversion, life-changing conversion.
Again, we moderns have difficulty thinking about conversion so totally; we must deconstruct much of our conventional thinking about what it means to be religious in order to remind ourselves that Christ means to convert the whole of us.
But such a total conversion is not something that we achieve on our own. Rather, conversion is completely a gift of the Spirit. This is one way to interpret Jesus’s offer of “living water.” He draws the Samaritan woman into conversation simply asking for a drink; that conversation then moves from the material to the mystical when he begins to talk about the “living water” able to satisfy every thirst. “Sir, give me this water,” she says to him (John 4:15). He has brought her to the moment of spiritual desire, to prayer. Now she longs for what she realizes she does not possess.
Thus, in the state of spiritual desire now she may hear the brutal truth. Now Jesus talks to her about her five husbands and how she worships what she does not know (John 4:16-22). The Lord’s words here, open to various interpretations, are nonetheless morally and theologically convicting. Their conversation now is penitential; she must be brought to the point where she renounces her past sin and ignorance. Only then may she hear the words, “I am he” (John 4:26).
As I said, it’s a story about conversion. It’s a story that teaches us that conversion is about desiring the living water of God. That water is the water that flows from the heart of Christ; it’s the water of baptism (John 7:37-38; 1 Corinthians 12:13). Nothing like any water we’ve ever known, which has never really satisfied us, this water we can only desire, beg for it. We must also renounce whatever keeps us from drinking this new living water whether it be our past sins or past error.
Desire and purification, that’s what this story is about. By this story, Mother Church whispers in the womb to her unborn children, to those soon to be born in baptism. Here are but the final few steps.
Is your desire for God this deep? But, of course, these are questions fit not only for those not yet baptized but also for the rest of us. Do we desire Christ like she did? Like that Samaritan woman so like ourselves?
Father Joshua J. Whitfield is pastor of St. Rita Catholic Community in Dallas and author of “The Crisis of Bad Preaching” (Ave Maria Press, $17.95) and other books.
