A Second Look. Mark Hart

won’t stop until you place your heart into His splintered and nail-scarred hands.

      Our Lord Jesus does precisely that, however, for when the Living Word draws near, He doesn’t see the sin; He sees the sinner in need of God’s mercy. In fact, the conversation between Christ and the woman at the well is the longest recorded dialogue Jesus has with one person in any of the Gospels. That fact alone ought to cause us pause and intrigue us to read the episode again, with fresh eyes and an open heart. The Holy Spirit inspired these words not for us to view them as a third-person “reader” but as a first-person “sinner” … for as the Lord seeks her, He is seeking us just as fervently:

      Now when the Lord … left Judea and departed again to Galilee. He had to pass through Samaria. So he came to a city of Samaria, called Sychar, near the field that Jacob gave to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there, and so Jesus, wearied as he was with his journey, sat down beside the well. It was about the sixth hour. (John 4:1,3-6)

      It’s vital to remember when reading sacred Scripture that no word is meaningless. God inspires every single word for a reason. Sometimes it’s very evident. Other times we may gloss over a phrase without giving it a second thought, such as here when the Holy Spirit reveals, “He had to pass through Samaria.”

      Why is that so important? Is Jesus’s preferred route of travel really significant two thousand years later? Scriptural details are an invitation to go deeper into the mind and heart of God. Obviously, the Spirit wanted us to know this fact, so what are we to take from it?

      In the time of Jesus, Jews and Samaritans didn’t interact with one another. There was a deep-seated hatred between them extending far beyond any Democrat/Republican dislike or even the Yankees and Red Sox vitriol. A Jew quite simply didn’t go into Samaria if he could avoid it. There were alternate (though, far longer) routes around the region that were preferable. Even if it were a searing hot desert day and you wanted to take the most direct route, if it meant you (a good Jew) had to interact with a Samaritan, you would go miles out of your way just to avoid the cultural disgust and social stigma. The best-case scenario meant a Jew wouldn’t have to see Samaritans, talk to them, or interact with them on any level. Try telling that to the God of the universe.

      The carpenter from Nazareth was anything but politically correct. Christ paid no attention to cultural bias or racial tension. Repeatedly throughout the Gospels we see Our Lord shattering social norms. To put it simply, He had a divine appointment that day at the well, unbeknownst to the Samaritan woman fetching water.

      We’re told by St. John that it was “about the sixth hour” of the day, making it about high noon for us twenty-first-century readers not savvy about Mediterranean and Hebraic timekeeping. Another seemingly unnecessary detail that offers intriguing insight into the woman’s cultural standing: Why would she go to the well at high noon? Why not earlier in the morning or right before sunset, when either time would offer cooler temperatures? You do not go to the well at the hottest part of the day without a reason.

      The well was the proverbial “water cooler” of two thousand years ago. It was where everyone in the village would congregate and the best gossip would occur. Those desiring community (and social gab) would go at sundown, typically. Some biblical scholars and saints even offer that this woman went there at noon because she had a sordid reputation; this woman ventured out for a laborious task in the heat of the day just to avoid the crowds who judged and ridiculed her. Luckily for the woman, her past did not dictate her future … not with a God so limitless in compassion, one who breathes divine mercy. It was high noon, yes — the brightest part of the day — and it was against this backdrop, with everything exposed and nowhere to hide, that God came seeking:

      There came a woman of Samaria to draw water. Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” For his disciples had gone away into the city to buy food. The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” For Jews have no dealings with Samaritans. Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” The woman said to him, “Sir, you have nothing to draw with, and the well is deep; where do you get that living water?” (John 4:7-11)

      Of course, this scene presented yet another problem. Not only did Jews and Samaritans not “mix,” but also, at the time, men and women would certainly not interact with one another in public — and under no circumstances would they share a drink or a cup. And, if a woman had a sinful reputation, a prophet — a true prophet and man of honor — would assuredly not engage or associate with her because of her sinful stature. This type of interaction would have been overtly scandalous and unheard of. Yet this Jesus sat completely present to the “sinner,” unfazed by her past but deeply interested in her future.

      And not only does Jesus break convention and draw near to her in public, not only does He talk to her, but He asks for a drink from her!?! Why on God’s earth would He do such a scandalous thing?

      Simple: the living water thirsted for her salvation.

      The only other time we hear Jesus mention His thirst is while agonizing on the cross. His agony was internal on this day as God’s deepest desire was to free this woman from her personal sins. In a way, this episode, beside the well, foreshadows the Cross. The thirst Jesus acknowledges here foreshadows the thirst He will reveal later. The mercy He offers in a cup for one beside a well prefigures the mercy offered in the cup for the many in the Upper Room, in Gethsemane’s garden, and upon Calvary’s stony hill.

      Jesus said to her, “Every one who drinks of this water will thirst again, but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst; the water that I shall give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, that I may not thirst, nor come here to draw.” (John 4:13-15)

      We all thirst. We are born with it. It’s a scientific and physiological fact that humans can go longer without food than they can without water. What does this physical need have to do with one’s prayer life, though? Why so much talk about water and life in a biblical chapter or spiritual book about God? Put simply, this discussion between the woman and Jesus is still hashed out every day with modern believers and those who want to believe but struggle (or outright refuse) to do so. The need for spiritual water is a matter of life and death whether people understand it or not.

      It is not until you encounter the living water from heaven that you truly begin to realize just how parched your life on earth has become.

      Do you know what prayer does? Do you realize what worshiping God does? Do you fully understand what adoration and the sacraments do? Among other things, these encounters with God, these forms of prayer reveal the dehydration of our souls.

      It is not until you encounter the living water from heaven that you truly begin to realize just how parched your life on earth has become. Christ, though, is far more than a canteen for emergencies in the arid deserts of our self-involved existence. Our Lord is more than an oasis in which to seek respite in times of survival. God is far more, and He is inviting us to far more. He has revealed this to us through a midday conversation at the local watering hole. God invited this woman — and us — to dive into the ocean of His mercy and finally experience what freedom tastes like.

       The taste of freedom

      Encountering God is a dangerous venture. It’s as though we know we need Him but aren’t quite sure we’re ready for Him or all that listening to Him will entail. We want God around. Sure. Why not? He’s like that lucky rabbit’s foot. We might not invoke Him enough before we really need Him, but when the going gets tough, we invoke God plenty. We have Him there for safe measure. He’s my “divine life insurance,” and that’s a great deal! I mean, most of us live with the perfect plan for how and when we’ll “let God in.” It’s as though we are saying, “God, when you call me home, please make it so I’m on a deathbed surrounded by priests throwing holy water and oil on me, hearing my confession, and making sure I get to your home address quickly and without any stops.” Sadly, it doesn’t always work that way.

      Jesus could