This will end in God's glory

Fifth Sunday of Lent Year A

There is something about the popularity of the special genre of zombie or ghost movies which shows not only Hollywood’s, but that of the common man’s fascination with death and what happens after death. We live in a world preoccupied with death; from the morbid images of the zombie genre films, to death metal music, to the oppressive occult practices, to our youth counter-culture, to the older generations preoccupation with preserving life … people are obsessed with death in fearful and hopeless ways.

Death is portrayed quite differently in Scripture. Psalm 116:15 says precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints. Paul considered death his reward and inheritance. And in John 11 Jesus said, “Lazarus is dead; and for your sake I am glad I was not there because now you will believe.” How can this be? Our Lord loved Lazarus; He wept at his grave, yet He is glad? Can death possibly be a cause of rejoicing? As Christians we do not fear death; we may be sad that we will no longer see the ones we love, at least on this side of the grave, but the “sting of death” has been removed because of the resurrection of Christ, and we know that one day we will all exchange this mortal body for one of immortality.

Our Lord told His disciples that Lazarus was “resting” or “sleeping” and that He was going to “wake” him. For the disciples who remained unenlightened before the Lord’s resurrection, they thought that Jesus was referring to Lazarus having a snooze. Little did they realise that He was speaking of death and the resurrection. In Christ, physical death is merely a shadow as we quietly pass from one life into the next. Death is never final; it is always followed by life. Because He experienced separation from God on the cross, we will never be separated from Him.

Just imagine that scene in today’s gospel. It’s like something out of a zombie apocalypse. It’s not like a fairy-tale kiss bringing a sleeping beauty to life. Lazarus’s dead body had been in the tomb for four days. In the warm climate of the eastern Mediterranean, the dead body would rot and stink. Martha explicitly expressed concern about the stench of Lazarus’s body, what more the decomposition that would have begun to set in. Jesus was unconcerned. As He instructed them to remove the stone that sealed the tomb of Lazarus, the family members of Lazarus and on-lookers would have been appalled by such a morbid request and thought of desecrating the body of a dead man.

Just like what we heard in last week’s gospel, we see in this week’s instalment a spectrum of different responses – this week to the theme of “death”. The disciples tried to dissuade our Lord from going personally to Bethany which is close to Jerusalem because they feared death for Him and for themselves. We have Martha and Mary who had earlier appealed to our Lord to come and heal their brother because they believe that He could postpone death with a miracle. Now, that Lazarus is dead, they saw no need of His presence. His presence now was too little too late! Then we have Mary incapacitated by her tremendous grief because she believed death was the end of the road for her brother. And finally, we have Martha who believed in the resurrection of the dead, but only saw it as a future and ethereal reality that will take place at the end of time. Only our Lord, who feared neither death nor saw it as the end of life, could receive the news of His friend’s death and be gladdened because as He told His own disciples: “this sickness will end not in death but in God’s glory, and through it the Son of God will be glorified.” His vision of death must be ours too.

How can Lazarus’ death bring glory to God and to Jesus? The resuscitation of Lazarus was a prophecy in the form of an action. It foreshadows Christ’s own resurrection, and at the same time anticipates the resurrection of all the righteous. Lazarus’ death and subsequent resuscitation will show that God and Christ has power over death, man’s most ancient enemy – an enemy which we thought to be inevitable and undefeatable … at least until now.

So, the story of Lazarus is to be read not just as another miracle of our Lord, demonstrating His extraordinary power, but also a story of hope for all of us - a hope which does not lie in finding an answer to the mystery of suffering, a hope that is not grounded in a final solution to life’s troubles, but a shining hope in the life of the resurrection - a rebirth - of how even the dead, the seemingly lost can be called forth, they can be liberated once and for all from the bindings of sin, desperation and grief, and be finally set free to live not just a dream, but the reality of immortality, never to suffer pain or death again.

Let’s be honest. We human beings can handle many things that confront us in life, but on our own we will never be able to do much about death. We can accept death and resign ourselves to its inevitability, but we don’t have the power to overcome it. In battling death on our own, even with the help of family, friends and doctors, we will always emerge the loser. But the good news is that there is someone who has overcome death. There is someone who can ensure our victory. Our Lord has overcome death because only God can do so. By swapping places with Lazarus, our Lord offered life to the whole world through His own death and resurrection. Death will still come in unimagined ways, but none of them are the kind of death that separates us from God. Physical death is robbed of its power because in Christ there is life on both sides of the grave.

This is the Good News we hear today. This is the Good News our elect must hear today. Jesus is the resurrection and the life, the source of Eternal Life, not just on the last day, but this very day, in this very place- so let us echo the faith-filled words of Martha as we tell Him: “I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who was to come into this world.” Let us go forth to live as those for whom death has been past ever since the day of our baptism so that living or dying, our lives are in Christ.

Which class do you belong to?

Fourth Sunday of Lent Year A

I once came across an article which featured a letter from a distraught Singaporean mother addressed to the Central Provident Fund (CPF), Singapore’s equivalent of our Employees Provident Fund. I was once told anecdotally, “what goes in, seldom comes out!” Her request to withdraw S$70,000 to fund her family’s living expenses and treatment for her mentally ill son was rejected. In response to their decision, she wrote a lengthy letter which went viral. What caught my attention was this insightful paragraph: “There are three classes of people in society. One, those who can see. Two, those who can see when shown and Three, those who cannot see even when shown. Which class do you belong to?”

“Which class do you belong to?” A good question to begin our reflexion for today’s gospel. At the beginning of the story, everyone claims to be able to see except the man born blind. But as the story unfolds, we would soon discover that almost all the characters, with the exception of our Lord, suffers from some blindness or other. In John’s gospel, seeing is synonymous with believing. Our Lord uses physical sight as a metaphor for something of even greater importance, spiritual sight, to see with the eyes of faith.

First, we have the disciples of the Lord. They have been the privileged recipients of the mysteries of the Kingdom and witnessed first-hand the Lord’s miracles. They, like so many others, truly believe that they can “see.” It is with this presumed sight that they pose what appears to be a clever theological question with regards to the disability of the man born blind, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, for him to have been born blind?” Addressing the Lord as “Rabbi” is the first evidence of their blindness. The blind man’s sight at the end of the gospel is so much more penetrating. The disciples also presumed that since the man has suffered such a fate, it must be on account of some sin, either his or that of his parents. It is assumed that people reap what they sow; that ‘bad luck’ is a result of ‘bad karma’; wicked folks get what is coming to them. Our Lord corrects them: “Your assumptions are flawed.” “He was born blind so that the works of God might be displayed in him.”

The next group are his neighbours and people who knew him as a blind beggar. The sight of the blind man being able to see should have inspired awe at seeing the wonders of God, but instead what arose was incredulity. Then we have the man’s own parents who are summoned as witnesses. They recognise their son and they also recognise the amazing transformation, if not miracle, that has taken place – their son born blind, can now see. And yet, they refuse to acknowledge this out of fear of being implicated in this escalating controversy.

Finally, we have the Jews and the Pharisees who were scandalised by the fact that the Lord had performed a miracle on a Sabbath, in violation of their ritual prohibitions. They have heard the testimonies of the blind man, his neighbours and family members, but still refuse to “see”. They’d rather believe their biased opinion of Jesus than what their “lying eyes” are revealing to them. The story culminates in this parting shot of the Lord aimed at the Pharisees: “Blind? If you were, you would not be guilty, but since you say, “We see”, your guilt remains.”

Yes, all these characters claim to be able to see, but can they really? For our Lord, the real question is whether the lack of seeing is voluntary or involuntary. While the blind man couldn’t help being blind, the others, who could have seen, deliberately chose to be blind. Therefore, their guilt remains. At the heart of this fascinating narrative is a simple but powerful contrast: the man who is blind from birth who sees nothing, but upon encountering the healing Saviour, the Light of the World, sees clearly. On the other hand, the other characters who all claim to be able to see clearly, but at the end of the story expose themselves to be truly blind. They deliberately chose not to see. That is the tragedy!

So, the only character that finally sees, is ironically the man born blind. The gift of sight eventually leads him along a journey of discovery, a path that will lead to a deepened faith. It takes a while before he completely comes to believe. Initially, he obeys without understanding. In the beginning he thinks of Jesus as merely a “man” among others, then when he is questioned, he speaks of the Lord as being a “prophet” and finally, his eyes are opened and he proclaims Him “Lord” and falls down in worship. From hopeless darkness he grows into the purest light of faith, entirely through the power of a gift of grace he never asked for; a faith whose logic he follows obediently; a faith that, like a mustard seed, grows in him until it becomes a huge tree. I believe his story resonates with the personal experiences of our Elect.

The story of the Blind Man is our story. Saint Augustine, commenting on the spiritual sense or meaning of the man’s blindness, simply stated, “This blind man is the human race.” This state of blindness is the Original Sin which we have inherited from our father Adam. And we continue to remain in the state of blindness whenever we choose to sin. My dear Elect, this is what that will happen to you at your Baptism: the washing in the waters of Baptism will remove the stain of Original Sin which spiritually blinds you and gives you new sight to see with faith.

Today, it’s good to be reminded by St Paul that: “You were in darkness once, but now you are light in the Lord; be like children of light, for the effects of the light are seen in complete goodness and right living and truth.” Being children of light is a journey. This is your journey. This is our journey, moving in stages to more perfectly know Jesus, to love Him and serve Him. We admit that our vision remains blurred because of sin. In order that our vision may be restored and made clearer, we need to constantly wash it, not in the Pool of Siloam but in the confessional, receiving the healing grace of reconciliation through the Sacrament of Penance. We know that as we persevere, one day we will see our Lord face to face.

Give me a drink

Third Sunday of Lent Year A

Conversation starters come in various forms, shapes and sizes. From mundane topics like the weather to more animated divisive issues like politics, conversation starters have always played an important role in setting the tone for social interaction - its success and failure has always depended on saying the right things at the right time and in the right company. Who could have guessed that a topic on water and thirst could lead to such profound theological depth in this exchange between the Samaritan woman and the Lord. The hot and dry desert climate must have given the word ‘thirst’ an intensified meaning and made this a “hot” topic.

Our Lord appears on the scene, apparently thirsty, asking for a drink. Pause for a moment to take that in - Jesus thirsts – also one of the last words He utters from the cross. It is consoling to note that God thirsts for us, for our liberation and our salvation. But the story soon ironically evolves into a tale that focuses on the unquenchable thirst of the woman, a thirst that cannot be sated by her unending search for love, acceptance, spirituality, and faith. This would only be possible with Christ.

At one juncture of this long conversation, the Lord would ask the woman: "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 Samaritan woman’s response to Jesus is filled with sarcasm and incredulity, 'Sir, you have no bucket and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water?' Our Lord is unperturbed and replies. 'Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty.' Who could refuse a promise like this, especially the prospect of not having to lug home a heavy bucket of water from the village well? It is no surprise that she then softens and finally concedes, 'Sir, give me this water.” Did she really understand what she was asking?

The depth of the well is a good starting point to speak of the gravity of the spiritual thirst of the Samaritan woman and that of every soul. In the ensuing debate of which is the greater shrine, the Samaritan one built close to the site of the historical well or the Jerusalem Temple - the Samaritan woman argues the pre-eminence of the Samaritan site by praising the greatness of Jacob, the giver of the well. As far as the Samaritans were concerned that well contained holy water, because historically identified with the ancestor of her race – their national hero. But irony is apparent once again. If we would run a contest for the most passionate and thirsty individual of the Old Testament, Jacob will make the top three. Who else cheats his brother and father for his inheritance, works fourteen years for the woman he loves, wins a wrestle match with the Angel of the Lord and sires the nation that delivers the Messiah?

But then Jacob’s well is unable to solve the ‘unquenchable thirst’ of the Samaritan woman, indeed of every soul. Jacob’s well is a picture of the waters of this world. It speaks of every natural pleasure and ‘painkiller’ for the soul ever invented. Be it the best of technology, most advanced device, latest political ideology, entertainment, immorality, intoxicant or pornography. The waters of this world cannot quench the profound thirst of the human heart. Quoting Jesus ‘whoever drinks of this water will thirst again.’

In 2011, Pope Benedict addressed a crowd of a half million young people in Sydney, Australia, on the occasion of the World Youth Day. He was keenly aware of the spiritual thirst of the many souls gathered there, some who had travelled long distance to catch a glimpse of the Pope, many fuelled by curiosity and the perennial thirst for an answer to life’s mysteries. Pope Benedict told them that "in so many of our societies, side by side with material prosperity, a spiritual desert is spreading: an interior emptiness, an unnamed fear, a quiet sense of despair. How many of our contemporaries have built broken and empty cisterns (cf. Jer 2:13) in a desperate search for meaning?" No doubt about it, our wells are indeed deep! The great catechist then identified the things we are thirsting for: love that endures, opportunity to share gifts, unity based on truth, communion that respects the freedom of the other person. These can be summed up as thirst or longing for three things: goodness, beauty and truth, the three transcendentals. But, said the Holy Father, instead of goodness, beauty and truth, what our society offers is choice, novelty and subjective experience. Those things are not bad in themselves, but to stop there is like substituting the authentic goldmine for a poor imitation, to settle for a depleting source of water rather than for an endless supply of living water from the Source itself.

God created man with the capacity to worship Him and the need to be in fellowship with Him. Science fiction writer, H. G. Wells, writes that every person has a “God-shaped vacuum in his heart - a void that only God can fill.” St Augustine puts it this way, “My soul is restless ‘till it rests in Thee.” As you all know, the life of Augustine is a replay of the life of our gospel’s protagonist, the Samaritan Woman. Behind Augustine is a succession of desperate searches for fulfillment: excessive pleasures, false religions, philosophies, dissipation and distractions—futilities that left him so weary of himself. At the very moment when his yearning led him to desperation, circumstances led his eyes to a passage in Scripture – to the one thing, no, to the one person who could heal his weariness and satisfy his longing thirst, Christ.

The depth of the well proves a challenge to anyone who has no recourse to a rope and a bucket. The well becomes a most suitable symbol of the human soul. But the good news is that you do not need a rope or a bucket to reach the living water which our Lord promises. The well from which this living water flows is the unfathomable depths of God’s love. And so buried deep within us is this spiritual aquifer – it is the place of deep communion between God’s spirit and ours. It lies hidden beneath layers of superficiality, our preoccupations with all things material and tangible, our dalliance with world delights and pursuits, our ambition for power and mastery. Though too deep for us, our wells are never too deep for Him. We only have to ask, “Master, give me this water,” we are assured of a drink from the well of God’s immense riches which promises life and immortality. Thereafter, we shall never be thirsty again.

What's wrong with the world?

Fourth Sunday of Lent Year A

I guess most people would be expecting me to say something about the Covid-19 pandemic. I’m going to disappoint you. A problem will not go away no matter how much you plan to be fixated on it. Sometimes when we are too focused on the problem, it blinds us to the solution. It’s always much better to focus on the solution. And this is what the Church invites us to do.

Though we often think of ourselves as being objective and rational people, our perception frequently slips like a faulty transmission into auto mode. Without realising it, this shapes our world-view, our judgment of others, our perception of ourselves and gives rise to every prejudice and bias we have of another. What we perceive is what we want to perceive, without recognising that others see something quite different. This is the “blind spot.” By its very definition, people are unaware of their blind spots because they wouldn't be blind spots if people were aware of them! Yes, our blind spots create lots of problems. What we see clouds our judgment; what we don’t see bias our behaviour. As Leonardo da Vinci said, “The greatest deception men suffer is from their own opinions.” So, how could we possibly be liberated from this self-imposed prison? Well, today’s gospel gives us an answer – His name is Jesus.

Today’s passage speaks of the encounter between the man who was born blind and our Lord. After being healed, this man emerged from a tunnel of total darkness that had lasted a lifetime, not just a two weeks modest quarantine. But here is the irony of the story, as the man regained his physical sight and was slowly led to grow in his spiritual sight, the other actors in the story continue to display their blindness, their respective blind spots.

Our Lord sees the problem faced by the blind man, but He also sees the solution. The others, however, the disciples, the man’s neighbours, his parents and the Jewish authorities see a problem too, but rather than seeing a solution and a reason to thank God, they each saw additional problems. They all suffered blind spots.

First, the disciples see the blind man and they think the man has a problem of sin. They believe he is being punished by God either for his own sins or that of his parents. Rather than seeing a way out, they are more concerned with the cause. “Why” may be an important question to ask but sometimes the “why’s” in life lead us no closer to the truth but rather to greater frustration. “Why did this happen?” eventually leads to “why did God allow this to happen?” and finally evolves into “well, if this man didn’t deserve it then either God is not a good God or He doesn’t really care.”  Rather than asking “why”, we should begin to ask, “what must I do?”

Next we have the man’s neighbours who see a different problem. They recognise him as the blind man who used to sit and beg. But now he’s no longer begging and, in fact, he’s not blind anymore. They begin to suspect that this man was never blind in the first place; he could be a con-artist, and so this could have sparked off outrage in having been cheated. That is why they decided to bring him to the authorities for trial and judgment.

Now, the Jewish authorities see another problem. Instead of marveling at the apparent miracle that had taken place, the clear hand of God at work, they are only obsessed with the fact that this could have been a violation of the Law. It’s the Sabbath – and if Jesus indeed did heal the man on the Sabbath, then He was breaking the law. They could not see the forest for the trees.

Finally, the parents of the blind man are called in as witnesses to confirm that this man is actually the same man everyone is talking about. But here again they see yet one more problem – fear of being dragged into this mess, fear of being implicated together with their son, charged as accomplices to this grand scheme of fraud. They’re afraid of testifying to the truth and so they decide to throw their son under the bus. They pushed the responsibility back to their son, “He is old enough, ask him.”

And now we see the man born blind, giving his testimony of what he had seen. This is the greatest irony of all. For a man deprived of his eyesight for his entire life, until now, he sees clearer than all others. We see, that though he suffers the trial of being judged, accused and rejected by the Lord’s disciples, neighbours, family members and the religious authorities, this man gradually grows in faith. It is as if the trials he is experiencing helps him to see clearer rather than impede his spiritual eyesight. In the beginning he thinks of Jesus as merely a “man” among others, then when he is questioned, he speaks of the Lord as being a “prophet” and finally, his eyes are opened and he proclaims Him “Lord” and falls down in worship. From hopeless darkness he grows into the light of faith, entirely through the power of a gift of grace he never asked for; a faith whose logic he follows obediently; a faith that, like a mustard seed, grows in him until it becomes a huge tree.

But remember this story isn’t only about the blind man, or the other characters in the story, it’s also about all of us. This is our journey, moving in stages to confront our own blind spots in order to see Jesus more perfectly. How do we see again? How do we allow our Lord to heal our blind spots? Well, a good start would be to admit that we are part of the problem, if not the problem itself. If we can only see the problem as “something out there”, if we are constantly complaining, blaming, and finding faults with others, then most likely we have missed the massive blind spots lurking behind the periphery of our physical, moral, spiritual vision. Unless I admit that I am blind, then my blindness remains. That is the essence of repentance, the prerequisite of Christian discipleship. Venerable Fulton Sheen gives us this important reminder, “Two classes of people make up the world: those who have found God, and those who are looking for Him - thirsting, hungering, seeking! And the great sinners came closer to Him than the proud intellectuals! Pride swells and inflates the ego; gross sinners are depressed, deflated and empty. They, therefore, have no room for God. God prefers a loving sinner to a loveless 'saint'. Love can be trained; pride cannot. The man who thinks that he knows, will rarely find truth; the man who knows he is a miserable, unhappy sinner, like the woman at the well, is closer to peace, joy and salvation than he knows.” Whether we wish to admit it or not, many of us don’t see our blind spots, because we are too proud to admit that we have them.

This finally leads me to a little story, which is most likely apocryphal, concerning the great GK Chesterton, but it very much captures his wit. It is said that, when a London newspaper asked Chesterton to contribute a piece addressing the question “What’s wrong with the world?” he sent a simple reply: “I am.” I guess we could give the same answer to an entire list of questions: “What’s wrong with the Church?” “What’s wrong with my BEC?” “What’s wrong with my family?” If only there was less blaming and greater humility in acknowledging, “I am … I am what’s wrong.” If that was true, then the answer to the next question, “What must change?” the answer should simply be, “I must.” If you can’t get around to saying that, if you continue to insist that you can see, well, “your guilt remains.”

When the well runs dry

Third Sunday of Lent Year A

Compared with the generation of our parents and grandparents, today we own twice as many cars per person, eat out twice as often and enjoy endless other commodities that weren't around then--big-screen TVs, microwave ovens, tablets, smart phones, handheld wireless devices, to name a few. But are we any happier? Certainly, happiness is difficult to pin down, let alone measure. But I suspect that we're no more contented than we were then--in fact, maybe less so. Compared with our grandparents, our most recent generation have grown up with much more affluence, slightly less happiness and much greater risk of depression and assorted social pathology, So many today suffer from that gnawing spiritual thirst for more and the next best thing, but the next best thing always seems elusive.

This spiritual thirst is indicative of an awareness that something is missing in one’s life – a feeling of ennui, of listlessness and dissatisfaction, mundane boredom, an inner longing, but one can’t quite put your finger on the reason for the emptiness within. Several years ago, Prince Charles of England spoke of his belief that, for all the advances of science, “there remains deep in the soul a persistent and unconscious anxiety that something is missing, some ingredient that makes life worth living.” He may not have been aware of how prophetic his words were but I believe that he is referring to the persistent and unconscious anxiety and thirst of the soul.

This emptiness often feels like a bottomless pit. We try to fill the emptiness with sex, drugs, work, fashion, cars, houses, jobs, and many other things, but the truth is, nothing but God Himself can quench our spiritual thirst. As St Augustine so eloquently described it in his autobiographical confession, “Our hearts are restless until they rest in” God. Science fiction writer, H. G. Wells, writes that every person has a “God-shaped vacuum in his heart - a void that only God can fill.” God has “hard-wired” us for a relationship with Himself, a God-shaped void, and until we are united with Him by repenting of sin and receiving Christ, we will continue to have this inner longing unfulfilled.

The story of the Samaritan woman is such a story – a story of someone thirsting for love, for meaning, for peace and until now, she had found it in all the wrong places. The story begins with this remark that our Lord had to pass through Samaria as He was going from Judea to Galilee. Did He have a choice? Yes, most certainly. There were three routes between Galilee and Jerusalem. The fastest and most direct route required travelling through Samaria, if speed was the main concern. But because of the ancient antagonism and tension between Jews and Samaritans, many Jews, especially the religiously observant, would avoid the route to prevent contracting some kind of ceremonial uncleanness. To the Jews, the Samaritans represented the two worst abominations: schism and idolatry. But it would seem that our Lord decided to choose this route. It was deliberate, not just coincidence. During His encounter with the woman at the well, our Lord broke three Jewish customs. Firstly, He spoke to her despite the fact that she was a woman. Second, she was a Samaritan woman, and as mentioned, Jews traditionally despised Samaritans. And, thirdly, He asked her to get Him a drink of water, although using her cup or jar would have made Him ceremonially unclean.

If one finds our Lord’s behaviour strange, at least from the perspective of a Jew, let us now consider that of the Samaritan woman. Saint John tells us that this encounter took place at the sixth hour. The sixth hour would have been our modern-day noon. It would have been the heat of the day and most people during that time would have been resting. As the story progresses, we learn that this woman regularly comes to the well at this time of day. As our omniscient Lord had discerned, she has been married five times, and is currently living in a scandalously sinful relationship with a man who isn’t even her husband. These circumstances point to her desire to avoid the shame of being in the company of other women. And yet, our Lord sought to meet this specific woman at this specific time. We may be ashamed to approach God and others because of our sinfulness, but there is nothing that can get in the way of the Lord approaching us, not even sin.

Through conversation with the Samaritan woman, we see Our Lord reveal Himself three times throughout the story. First, Our Lord is revealed as the Living Water. After asking the Samaritan woman for a drink, He responds to her by offering her something greater, “the living water” that will ultimately quench her thirst. This was a water that did not only sustain life but bestowed everlasting life. What is this living water but our Lord Himself - He is the Living Water that she needs, the well spring of life.

Next, our Lord is revealed as the prophet that the Samaritans had been expecting. He does so by exposing her matrimonial history – she had had five husbands and a current live-in lover. To which she immediately responds, “I see you are a prophet!” Shocked by the truth of His words and exposure of her own sin, her eyes are beginning to open to the truth of who He is.

Finally, we see our Lord revealed as the Messiah, the Christ, the Anointed One. The woman said to Him, “I know that Messiah – that is, Christ – is coming; and when He comes He will tell us everything.” “I who am speaking to you”, said Jesus, “I am He.” The terms Messiah (Hebrew – Moshiach) and Christ (Greek - Christos) both mean “anointed.” In the New Testament and early Judaism, “Messiah” combines many Old Testament expectations about an “anointed one” who would lead, teach, and save God’s people. Here, our Lord reveals Himself as that Messiah. He has now explicitly told the woman that He is the final anointed King that has come to seek and save the lost.

Our Lord’s encounter with this woman brings to light a core belief in our Christian faith: Christ is the Way, the Truth and the Life. He is the unique and universal Saviour of the world. He is not one prophet among many and Christianity is not just one way among many paths that lead to Salvation. We desire a fulfillment, rest, and joy that cannot be found in another person, place or project. Only our Lord Jesus Christ is the Living Water that can fill the void in our lives, He is the source of that well that will never run dry. He is the unending source of peace, joy, love, truth and satisfaction. Abundant life, truly abundant life, can only be found in Him.  He is the One who “reconcile all things to Himself, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through His blood, shed on the cross.” It is only in Him that we will be saved from our sins and made new again.

This world is filled with wells that promise to provide love, acceptance, and self-worth but never fully satisfy. Many of us turn in desperation to the fountains of the world seeking a drink; where alcohol, food, outside relationships, addictions, entertainment, money or constant busyness fill our cup. And, yet, like the Samaritan woman, we still thirst. Only Christ can fill our empty souls for eternity and provide for our essential emotional needs now. Don’t wait till your soul is empty and the well runs dry. Look for Jesus now. Thirst only for him. He alone can quench the thirst of your soul. Saint Augustine was right when he said that our hearts will remain restless until we rest in Christ.