Today’s Reflection

Another Lenten companion writes today’s reflection:

My life was imperfect according to the law, and worse, shameful to the expectations of the fine people in this town of my ancestors. Let’s just say I had a checkered past. Most recognized me and my “unconventional ways.” Truth be told, I was scorned.

The good women in our town went to Jacob’s well for water in early morning or in the cool of evening. But it was my daily routine to gather water from the well at noon (mostly to avoid their pointed gossip about my life). It was blazing hot then, but it was the time I preferred.

A few weeks ago, I arrived at the well, and a man was there, a Jew, a problem. He was visibly tired, and me, a Samaritan woman now would have to bake in the sun waiting for him to leave before I could draw my water. Not what I had planned that day, testing my patience!

Believe it or not, this Jewish man asked me for water to drink. I thought, “What is wrong with him? Does he not know it is uncustomary for a Jew to speak with a Samaritan, much less a woman, and worse, a Samaritan woman of my reputation?” As if this were not crazy enough, he offered me some “living water, that when taken in, there would be no more thirst.”

When I asked for some of that water (Yet, he didn’t even have a bucket!), he told me to get my husband. “Ha!,” I said, “Stranger, I have no husband.” He exclaimed, “You are right, you have no husband.” And then he spoke plainly of my five husbands, my sins against the law, my regular indiscretions. It was then that I knew he must be a prophet, to know all this of me, yet a stranger. He began to speak of the hour in which God would seek His people. Shaking and sweating in the sun, I said, “I remember from the holy teachings that there is to be a Messiah coming, and that when He comes, He will tell us everything.” I nearly dropped my water jar when he said, “I who speak to you am He.”

Then a bunch of his friends arrived, staring at this unexpected, inappropriate gathering. So, I left my jar, hurried back to town, and explained to the townspeople what had happened. He KNEW me fully, told me of all I ever did in my failings, and still he offered me a fountain of living water for eternal life, a path to worship in Spirit and truth.

Stunned, the townsmen hurried out to meet Him and begged Him to stay awhile. For two days He was in Samaria, and through His spoken word many more came to believe in Him, that He is the Savior of the world.

You know, they arrested Him and crucified Him. Some say he rose from the dead. It seems possible to me because we had heard Him and came to see Him as the Messiah. I will always remember Him and proclaim Him, for He recognized me, a sinner, and yet saved me, the least among us, with the water of new life.

Today’s Reflection from a Lenten Companion:

To give the Padre a day off he asked one of his Lenten companions write today’s reflection:

My name is not important because I could be anybody. I am known as the man with the withered hand. It wasn’t always that way. I was a stonemason and a good one. It was hard work, but at the end of the day when I put down my hammer and chisel there always was a feeling of accomplishment. Often I would step back and look at my work. I never wanted to be anything else; this was my calling.

Then it happened. A large stone dislodged and crushed my hand, my right hand, the hand that knew just how much force was needed for each blow, the hand that always was true in its aim. How would I ever work at my trade again? How would I support my wife and children? How do I cope with losing my vocation and purpose in life? Truth be told, I was miserable to be with, and my wife and kids took the brunt of my despair.

I needed to get out of the house. The walls were closing in on me. I had time on my hands (no pun intended) and heard of a teacher in town. He taught in parables, in stories and they spoke to me. It was a different way of teaching than I was accustomed to. Usually our religious leaders told us what to do and not to do. They even alluded to my mangled hand as evidence of some wrongdoing, some sin in my past. There I sat in the crowd when he looked at me. Suddenly he asked a question, but I did not hear it because he continued to stare at me. “Come stand here,” he was speaking to me! I was embarrassed, a man not working, a deformed hand, and a room filled with people. I stood before this man who said, “Stretch out your hand.” Was he mocking me? Could he not understand my pain, my despair in being useless? But I raised my arm and opened my hand. Did you hear that? I opened my hand! I felt the muscles tighten in my hand and arm, and they responded; life came back into them!

I tell you this story because they arrested this man and crucified him. I know this because it was my job one Friday to roll a huge stone in front of a tomb. It was then I saw the body of Him who had given me back my life. One of the people standing nearby made the comment: “He came that we might have life and have it more abundantly!” I can never thank Him for what He did except to live my life for Him, who gave me this new life.

I have heard stories that are hard to believe. Some say this man rose from the dead, that He is the Christ. I can only tell you: He gave me life.

Today’s Reflection from Father Dave

I have never closed a playground to children until now. I have locked gates at times because fresh cement or asphalt had been poured. While I do have some priorities, I have always believed that the grounds are for our children. That is the lesson I learned from Fr. Smith when he gave me my first job of mowing the ballfield at our parish church. The reason he gave a 10-year-old this job is a story for another time, but I have been working for the church since then.

Yet now the upper playground is locked and closed, in keeping with the spirit of this Shelter-in-Place. This slight obstacle did not stop two little ones yesterday during a downpour from trying out their homemade boats in the swale that runs by the rectory. Decked out from head to toe in raingear, they floated their wonderful creations down to the culvert, skipping alongside.

I knew there must be an adult close by, so I went to investigate, and there was dad. Now he was not dressed in the same protective gear, but he was enjoying everything about this scene as I was. He asked, “Is this okay?” All I could do was to thank him for bringing some joy and laughter to this deserted landscape, and then I went back inside. (Mom would be proud that I did learn to come in from the rain.)

It is difficult, this time of sheltering in place, as we put aside our needs to try and help the larger community. Some families have to learn how to live together 24/7; others struggle to live a solitary existence, and all live to protect one other.

I do not know how these little ones, along with dad and mom, are coping in day-to-day living. Yet, in that sliver of time, I witnessed a family take a difficult and trying period in our history, and without knowing it, create a joyful moment for a man who locked the gates.

I cannot wait for the day when the locks come off. It might be interesting to see just how far this padre can throw a padlock.

In Faith, Hope, and Love,

Father Dave