What Are You Thirsty For?
Romans 5:1-11 John 4:5-26
February 24, 2008    Third Sunday in Lent

What must it have been like for the Samaritan woman to have a
conversation with Jesus?  She had no idea what she was doing.  She was
unself-conscious about it because she really didn't know who Jesus was
or what he might offer her if she only knew what to ask.  I remember
attending a reception for Habitat for Humanity many years ago right
after Jimmy Carter had finished serving his term in the white house.
He was the speaker for the evening, and I was excited to get the
opportunity to actually shake his hand and exchange a few words.  But
I froze up.  I didn't have anything to say, even though there were
many, many things I would have liked to talk with him about – faith
and politics for starters.  I wonder how often this kind of thing
happens without us even realizing it?   I wonder how many
opportunities we lose simply because we do not know how to take
advantage of the situations that present themselves to us.  Sometimes
we don't even see the situations when they arise!  There is so much
available to us in every moment and in every situation, and yet we
seize very little.  We live with blinders on, to a great extent.  We
live in such a way that we see what we assume is there for us to see,
what we think we need to see.  Maybe to a certain extent we see what
we expect to see.  But we rarely look beyond what it is that we
actually need or are counting on.  The woman at the well needed water,
and she assumed that a man hanging around the well needed water also.
She didn't really look beyond that assumption.  She just carried on
with her chores, her day and her life.  Isn't this how we all are?  We
just do what is there for us to do, carrying on as we have always
carried on.
When Jesus started speaking to the woman about her life, it was not
at all what she expected.  She had been going to that well for most of
her life, and no one had ever ventured to have that kind of a
conversation with her before that moment.  She had spent her entire
life trying to keep up with her basic needs and those of her family –
food, water, shelter, sleep, clothing.  But the questions Jesus asked
insisted that she dig a bit deeper.  The questions Jesus asked forced
her to consider that there was perhaps more to life than meeting one's
basic needs.  There was, perhaps, more to life than all of the things
that kept her busy hour after hour, day after day, year after year.
There was more to life than whatever it was that kept pushing her out
of one unsatisfactory relationship and into another.
I think the possibility that there is more to life than meets the eye
fascinates us as well.  We would like to think that there is more to
life than that which we can see, taste, touch and experience; and yet
something within us is afraid to take the risk of looking beyond what
"is" to what might be.  In so many ways we are like the Samaritan
woman, waiting for something to happen that shakes us out of our
stupor and awakens us from our dreamless sleep.  It might prove to be
one of the most difficult things in the world for us to actually start
seeing things differently just because we make the effort to do so.
Most of the time we need someone or something to help us recognize the
need for change, as Jesus helped the Samaritan woman.  A friend of
mine has been looking for a way to quit smoking for quite some time,
but she had not found anything compelling enough to force her hand.
She is not terribly religious, but a few weeks ago when she heard that
Lent was coming up, she eagerly seized it as an opportunity to help
her stop smoking.  She felt that the added impetus of a season in
which people all over Christendom were giving up things that were
important to them, would make a difference in her psyche and make her
effort successful.
How difficult it can be for us to change, even when we know change is
good for us.  How difficult it can be for us to focus our attention on
the issues that really matter in our lives – on "living water" rather
than the little trickles we are able to coax out of our faucets every
day.  Even knowing that the living water is available to us, ready for
us to simply claim, we tend to keep plugging along at our own pace
with the resources we are accustomed to.  Reaching out for something
that new and unusual is often more than we can cope with, given all of
the other things vying for our attention in life.  But before we go
back to the status quo, before we shrink back into our overly busy
schedules, maybe we ought to take a few more moments with the woman at
the well.  If she could take the time to listen to Jesus' call on her
heart, then maybe we can too.  If she could gather up the courage to
go and speak to her neighbors, many of whom she had not spoken with in
years because of the embarrassing circumstances of her life, then
maybe we can take a similar risk.  Maybe we can stretch out of our
comfort zones enough to take a sip of the living water.  Maybe we can
dare, if only as kind of a trial effort, to see the bigger picture
rather than jumping to conclusions about what "is" in our life and
what "is not."
What would it be like to drink the living water that Jesus offers?
Are we maybe already drinking it?  My guess is that we have tasted it,
or we wouldn't be here.  We have probably tasted it, but we didn't
dare to keep drinking it alone.  We assumed that we had best get back
to what we knew and were comfortable with rather than assuming we
could actually live on this heady stuff.  But I think this is where
faith gets interesting, and where it becomes most capable of
satisfying our thirst.  When we realize that faith is enough, that
having a relationship with God makes a difference, that our lives are
simply a small part of a very large picture, then everything shifts.
It doesn't really take much, either.  During the past few months my
life has been altered dramatically by the simple focus on compassion –
for myself and for others.  Compassion has changed the way I see
situations, the way I experience conflicts and challenges.  Focusing
on compassion has been in many ways like I imagine it must be to drink
from the living waters, because the practice of compassion has taken
away my need for other things that I used to depend on to bolster my
ego and my sense of self.  I believe that the living waters are
available to us just as much as they were available to the woman at
the Samarian well.  We just have to be willing to allow our lives to
shift.  We have to be willing to let go of other beverages that make
promises to us that they can't uphold.  We may have to develop a taste
for it as well, letting go of all of those false sweeteners and
artificial flavors.  We may need to discover what we are really
thirsty for, and then don't settle for anything less.

Loving God, you are the source of all that truly satisfies.  Your
living waters quench our thirst.  Your manna provides us nourishment.
Your words enter our thoughts and your love fills our hearts.  May we
never be satisfied with less.  Amen.