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Chapter 2

Encountering Jesus Unleashes God’s Mercy

Christ and the Samaritan Woman

Hide-and-seek was my favorite game growing up. The strategy of securing the perfect hiding place, the thrill of the countdown, the heart-stopping anxiety that my six-year-old body endured, the frantic scurrying to hide and then holding my breath as I heard the seeker getting closer — it was almost too much pressure for my pre-adolescent heart to endure.

The lessons we learn from hide-and-seek are lessons we can carry with us throughout life: the importance of thinking under pressure, the integrity necessary to keep our eyes closed while counting, the ability to remain silent for long periods of time, and the joy derived from taking a break to play a game with friends. But, the takeaways aren’t just practical applications of moral development. The game offers a fundamental look at a timeless theological “dilemma” — namely, when it comes to God, are we really seeking Him, or is He the one seeking us?

No more games

Too often we treat our relationship with God like a game of hide-and-seek … at least, I do. At times I run from Him. At times I try to hide from Him and act as though He cannot see me. At times I even hold my breath and don’t talk to Him, hoping He won’t find me. The painful truth is that I almost think, if He can’t find me, He can’t ask me to change.

There’s just one obvious problem with this juvenile thought process: We can’t hide from God.

To God everything is exposed: all of our faults, imperfections, and little personal secrets. But God knows everything: all of our talents, traits, successes, and achievements — that’s the good news. The even better news is that God is always seeking you and me: “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost” (Lk 19:10). Ponder that Gospel truth for a minute, because it’s life altering. You might never miss Mass. You may constantly be reading different spiritual books about the Lord such as this one. You could have a disciplined — even vibrant — prayer life. The radio stations in your car could be preprogrammed to Catholic or Christian stations. You could wake up each day “seeking” the Lord and to grow in your faith. But, the soul-stirring reality is that it’s actually the other way around. You’re not seeking God even a fraction as much as God is seeking you. God doesn’t stop, either. He doesn’t want “part” of your heart, or life, or strength. No, God wants it all. He wants all of your heart, and He’s not going to relent. Christ won’t stop until you place your heart into His splintered and nail-scarred hands.

Jesus is the Good Shepherd, the one who goes out of His way for each of us silly, lost sheep. No sin is too great for this Savior; no lamb is worth losing to this Lord. He isn’t afraid of your past sins, current status, or social structure. We have a God who constantly draws near to where we are to bring us to where He is. The Living Water is flowing, and peering into Christ’s eyes reveals the dehydration of our souls.

A woman, a well, and a wish

One could only imagine the types of insults that were uttered about the woman at the well. So many ex-husbands would have left few souls in such a tiny village at a loss for words. The Samaritan woman we hear about in St. John’s Gospel would have been a small-town gossip’s dream. She is the type of soul few would expect much from, except sin, that is. No one wanted to engage a woman such as this. Certainly no prophet or respectable preacher would be seen in her presence, much less engaging her in dialogue.

Christ 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 have taken the long route. Our Lord could have opted to go the long way around, sure. He didn’t then, and He still doesn’t. Remember, “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and for ever” (Heb 13:8). Jesus didn’t oppose the sinner, then, and He sure as heaven isn’t going to oppose you now.

Christ didn’t leave us to figure out truth, repentance, and forgiveness on our own. Jesus had a divine appointment, and He went straight to the place He wasn’t supposed to go, to the person He wasn’t supposed to talk with. He wasn’t revealing His thirst; He was inviting her to reveal hers! As He talks to her, though, He reveals even more:

Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come here.” The woman answered him, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband’; for you have had five husbands, and he whom you now have is not your husband; this you said truly.” The woman said to him, “Sir, I perceive that you are a prophet.” (John 4:16-19)

So, the Lord takes this nice scene and, as with the tables in the Temple area, completely upends it. In a shocking moment ripe for reality television, Jesus reveals that not only has this woman had five husbands but that number six isn’t even wed to her! This is where the dramatic music would be cued to alert the viewers of the scandal. Can you imagine how you’d feel — all of your sins hanging out in broad daylight, revealed by this seemingly random Nazarene carpenter/mystery man? All of a sudden, the Samaritan woman was face to face with the God of the universe and the reality of her own shame.

Some read this passage and think: “That’s not right. How could God do such a thing to her? Isn’t it bad enough that the Samaritan townspeople gossip about her, and then this random Jewish carpenter is going to come to call her out?” To be clear, though, that is how much God loves her. God revealed her sin precisely because of His unfathomable love. If He didn’t say, “I know about your past,” she would say, “Fooled him! He’s no prophet.” The fact is that He drew right next to her, looked her right in the eyes, and basically said, “I know about your shame, and I still love you.” Jesus didn’t want her to be chained to her sinful past any longer. God loved her so much that He crashed into her existence in an unsuspecting moment, not just to forgive her but to save her. He wants her to come face to face with her former self, not to rub her nose in it but in hopes that she will invite him into it!

What would your response be if you were the one holding the bucket? Would you deny the sin? Would you walk away? Would you possibly retaliate, firing back at the mystery man? Or would you own your past as you sat in a shame-filled present?

I have a confession to make

Do you know what happens when our sin is brought into the light? We either look for a place to hide it or seek a place to dump it. Therapy often wades through the former, while the Sacrament of Reconciliation beckons us to the latter. The woman beside the well looked Christ in the eyes as she was made new. We have the exact same opportunity thanks to Christ’s priesthood here on earth.

Shoulders slumped from fatigue; eyes bloodshot; stoles a beautiful, albeit disgusting, blend of countless young souls’ tears: This is a not-too-uncommon sight in youth ministry — that is, priests sitting in persona Christi capitas offering mercy and absolution to an endless line of adolescent sinners ardently desiring sainthood. The scene repeats itself at every parish retreat, summer camp, and youth rally. The numbers are staggering, with priests hearing on some weekends hundreds of confessions. These courageous (and tired) souls are consistently poured out like libations in a manner that would make St. Paul proud (see Phil 2:17), often remaining on less-than-comfortable chairs for hours on end so that every last penitent has the opportunity to hear the beautiful and incomparable words of freedom … “I absolve you.”

After a cursory glance around the room during these events, many are quick to blame the priest shortage (an irresponsible euphemism for what is really a “response shortage” — God is calling, men just aren’t listening or hearing, but let’s not digress). A more exacting evaluation would reveal a group of teens who have either not been offered the opportunity more frequently or, perhaps more to the point, have not been invited into the sacramental encounter since the last such retreat/event. The lines are long for a variety of reasons, but the ratio of teens to priests is not the fundamental problem; it’s a fruit, but not the root. The Church needs more sin. Yes, you read that correctly. The Church needs more sin to be preached and taught about, so that we can be reconciled more regularly. Sin has not lost its luster; leaders have lost their muster. And that is one very deadly combination. Even in a suffering economy, the wages of sin remain the same: death (see Rom 6:23).

So, why don’t leaders preach and teach more about sin? I believe it’s rooted in fear. Sometimes leaders are afraid that preaching sin will push people away or hurt their numbers or, worst yet, their collection. Experience shows, however, that if done correctly, the result is just the opposite. Did the woman at the well retreat in fear or advance for mercy? Humble souls are dying for someone to draw a line in the sand. To quote G. K. Chesterton, “Art, like morality, consists in drawing a line somewhere.”

Souls want truth; hearts are hard-wired for it. More to the point, everyone needs truth … especially the truth about hell, heaven, purgatory, and the lives that lead to all three. Modern minds aren’t stupid, nor should they be placated or pandered to. While always couched in compassion and mercy, God didn’t shy away from preaching on truth, sin, and consequence; He began in Eden and continues to speak truth throughout salvation history. Even Christ’s beloved Sermon on the Mount spoke more about hell and the consequence of sin than any of His other discourses or (far easier-to-remember) parables.

People have forgotten a fundamental truth about sin — namely, that God did not give Adam and Eve the right to decide subjectively what was good and evil; in His mercy, He gave them the right to choose between what is objectively good and evil. He was adamant. He was clear. He loved them (and us) enough not to leave anything in doubt. He explained the consequences (see Gn 2:17).

Today, souls are being swallowed up and spit out by a secular humanist, morally relativist culture. Taking ownership of our sin is not a popular thing to do, especially for Christians in the modern age. Most of the time, when we have a lot of sin and shame in our past, we prefer to pretend it’s not there. We are happy to show God all the bright and shiny parts of our life, but prefer to keep the Lord out of the junk drawers and messy closets of our soul. Some have convinced themselves that their sins are anything but. No sin equals no need for a Savior. Though weighed down by the guilt, they’d rather breathe than really live, as their soul dies a painful death. The woman at the well wasn’t really living … she was merely breathing, until “the way, and the truth, and the life” (Jn 14:6) offered her renewal.

Unless you reconcile the past, you’re never going to taste the future God has designed for you.

Others are so overwhelmed by the gravity of their past sins that they won’t even let God into their past. These souls desire God to be present in their present and merciful in their future, but they won’t allow the Lord into their past. Though they might even live in their past, they are afraid to let Christ anywhere near it. These souls that dwell in the past go back every chance they get. “You can’t forgive me, Lord. I’ve sinned too much and run too far. My sin, it’s just too big,” they think. They might even lament: “Church? Oh, I can’t go to church. I can’t go in … that place will fall down if I’m in it.”

Allow me to say that if the Church hasn’t fallen down in 2,000 years, it sure as hell is not going to fall down because of you. The Catholic Church is a Church of mercy; in fact, that’s our mission statement. We are a Church who now counts former mass murderers, con artists, alcoholics, thieves, rapists, and heretics among the Communion of Saints. Never doubt the power of God’s grace nor the ability it affords you to change.

If we don’t say, “God, I don’t just want you to be the God of my present or the God of my future, but I want you to be the God and savior of my past!” then we are missing Simon Peter’s boat. Tell the Lord, now: “I want you to walk back with me, Jesus. I trust you. Please tell me I don’t have to carry this anymore. Please forgive me. Please tell me You still love this sinner called Your child.”

The only sin God will not forgive is the one you don’t ask forgiveness for. So don’t keep your past from Him. You can’t be made new for today or tomorrow until you invite Jesus to redeem yesterday.

Wherever you’re at, whether you’ve dealt with your past or you haven’t, when the Lord comes to you and looks you in the eyes, He’s not saying to you, “You are the sum of your sins and your failures.” No, God’s truth, to paraphrase words of St. John Paul II, is that you are not the sum of your sins, you are the sum of the Father’s love. Unless you reconcile the past, you’re never going to taste the future God has designed for you. If you keep throwing your bucket down that well of stagnant water, it’s not going to fulfill your thirst as He is.

One of the greatest things you can do for your spiritual life is to say to Jesus in prayer: “Walk with me, Lord. Walk me back into this episode, sin, room, addiction, struggle [whatever it is]. Walk back with me and show me where You’ve preserved me and protected me. Reveal it to me, Lord. Pour light into my darkness. Show me where I need healing, Lord, and then please come and heal me. Come, Jesus, and save me from my darkness, my past, and myself.”

The Lord reveals our shame because He loves us and wants to free us. The enemy reveals our shame because he wants to chain us and leave us there.