GOSPEL COMMENTARY March 12, Jn 4:5-42
In many senses, one could say that Catholic Christianity is a well-founded faith. In particular, our Gospel reading this Sunday invites us to consider how much of the faith seems to be founded around actual wells of water. We heard that Jesus meets the Samaritan woman at “Jacob’s Well,” the mention of which plunges us back into the world of the Old Testament.
Once there, we realize that Jacob met his wife, Rachel, at this very well. Delving further back, we find that Jacob’s father, Isaac, also met his wife, Rebecca, at a well. Before that? Abraham had his share of wells. Even Moses met his wife, Zipporah, at a well. It seems that the people in the Old Testament were always meeting at wells, worshipping at wells or fighting over wells. Why?
Consider what a well meant to desert nomads like the Israelites (wandering 40 years in the wilderness). Living amid an inhospitable wasteland, it meant life. Possession of a well equaled watered flocks, hydrated family members and even perhaps the shade of a palm tree or two. It even gave a chance to socialize. When you live in the desert, the local watering hole is quite literally … the actual local water hole.
Not for nothing, the patriarchs all met their wives at wells. Not only was it a source of life, it was also the only place in the wilderness one could reliably go to meet other people, particularly if one was looking for love. All this gives us a bit of insight into the Samaritan woman and why she was hanging around the well. Jesus reveals that she has cycled through a fair number of husbands. Now she was on the hunt for another.
Yet, it’s also worthwhile to consider how the well worked, physically. You needed to guard it. Then you needed a bucket and a rope and had to toil in the hot sun just to bring the water up from the depths for a drink. If you had a whole flock of parched sheep, you were likely in for a good bicep and tricep workout, which would only make you thirstier in that hot sun. Wells give life but take work. Worse still, there’s only one hole, so it cannot be used by too many people at the same time.
Contrast that with what Jesus promises the Samaritan woman (and us): “The water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” It’s a fountain, a spring. The water comes to you. It bubbles up continuously. Springs and fountains turn into rivers that nourish not just a single oasis, but a whole countryside. All can drink and be refreshed to their fill, and the water keeps coming, clean and pure.
The whole story is a living parable about our thirst for God’s love. The Samaritan woman shows up at the well with a thirsty heart. She’s a stand-in for all of us, all of humanity. She may or may not be looking for love in all the wrong places, but she certainly is looking for the wrong sort of love to fill what her heart really longs for.
Like the well itself, each of her many husbands have just left her thirsty again, because she was seeking a deeper sort of love that no human being could satisfy. Like the well, those relationships took work and left her exhausted. They were wells in a desert, but not a spring or river.
As Augustine says: “Our hearts are restless until they rest in thee, O Lord.” Jesus offers her the love of God that doesn’t run dry. In place of a well, Jesus offers us an unquenchable spring. All too often in this life, we try to fill our thirsty hearts from watering holes that can never satisfy our heart’s true thirst. Money, the internet, fame, physical strength, even romance — the wells are many. They fill for a time, but only just. Our hearts always thirst for more. This Lent, isn’t it time we tried drinking of the river Christ gives instead?
Fr. Miserendino is parochial vicar of St. Bernadette Church in Springfield.
Woman at the well
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GOSPEL COMMENTARY March 12, Jn 4:5-42
In many senses, one could say that Catholic Christianity is a well-founded faith. In particular, our Gospel reading this Sunday invites us to consider how much of the faith seems to be founded around actual wells of water. We heard that Jesus meets the Samaritan woman at “Jacob’s Well,” the mention of which plunges us back into the world of the Old Testament.
Once there, we realize that Jacob met his wife, Rachel, at this very well. Delving further back, we find that Jacob’s father, Isaac, also met his wife, Rebecca, at a well. Before that? Abraham had his share of wells. Even Moses met his wife, Zipporah, at a well. It seems that the people in the Old Testament were always meeting at wells, worshipping at wells or fighting over wells. Why?
Consider what a well meant to desert nomads like the Israelites (wandering 40 years in the wilderness). Living amid an inhospitable wasteland, it meant life. Possession of a well equaled watered flocks, hydrated family members and even perhaps the shade of a palm tree or two. It even gave a chance to socialize. When you live in the desert, the local watering hole is quite literally … the actual local water hole.
Not for nothing, the patriarchs all met their wives at wells. Not only was it a source of life, it was also the only place in the wilderness one could reliably go to meet other people, particularly if one was looking for love. All this gives us a bit of insight into the Samaritan woman and why she was hanging around the well. Jesus reveals that she has cycled through a fair number of husbands. Now she was on the hunt for another.
Yet, it’s also worthwhile to consider how the well worked, physically. You needed to guard it. Then you needed a bucket and a rope and had to toil in the hot sun just to bring the water up from the depths for a drink. If you had a whole flock of parched sheep, you were likely in for a good bicep and tricep workout, which would only make you thirstier in that hot sun. Wells give life but take work. Worse still, there’s only one hole, so it cannot be used by too many people at the same time.
Contrast that with what Jesus promises the Samaritan woman (and us): “The water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” It’s a fountain, a spring. The water comes to you. It bubbles up continuously. Springs and fountains turn into rivers that nourish not just a single oasis, but a whole countryside. All can drink and be refreshed to their fill, and the water keeps coming, clean and pure.
The whole story is a living parable about our thirst for God’s love. The Samaritan woman shows up at the well with a thirsty heart. She’s a stand-in for all of us, all of humanity. She may or may not be looking for love in all the wrong places, but she certainly is looking for the wrong sort of love to fill what her heart really longs for.
Like the well itself, each of her many husbands have just left her thirsty again, because she was seeking a deeper sort of love that no human being could satisfy. Like the well, those relationships took work and left her exhausted. They were wells in a desert, but not a spring or river.
As Augustine says: “Our hearts are restless until they rest in thee, O Lord.” Jesus offers her the love of God that doesn’t run dry. In place of a well, Jesus offers us an unquenchable spring. All too often in this life, we try to fill our thirsty hearts from watering holes that can never satisfy our heart’s true thirst. Money, the internet, fame, physical strength, even romance — the wells are many. They fill for a time, but only just. Our hearts always thirst for more. This Lent, isn’t it time we tried drinking of the river Christ gives instead?
Fr. Miserendino is parochial vicar of St. Bernadette Church in Springfield.
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