From ancient times the 3rd, 4th and 5th Sundays of lent were designated as special for catechumens. There were public ceremonies on these days for all the candidates for Baptism: exorcisms, anointings, and special instructions, marking stages on their path towards becoming fully members of Christ, and members of His Church, at Easter. The Gospels for these Sundays were always the same: the Samaritan woman at the well, the man born blind, and the raising of Lazarus, according to St. John. Why? Because through our baptism Jesus gives the living water of the Spirit; he opens our eyes to the light and truth of God; he reverses our death and gives us a share in his own resurrection. Nowadays we have a three-year cycle of Gospel readings, but where catechumens are present, still these are the passages that are always chosen. They remain always limitlessly rich in heavenly wisdom for us, and as we read them again ourselves this year, it can be good to do so keeping our own baptism especially in mind.
To make just a few comments about today’s Gospel.
Does it not strike you as remarkable, that so much important teaching should be given in such a context? According to St. John, this is an apparently chance and purely private encounter, and with someone who is a complete outsider. As a Samaritan, this woman is an outcast from the Jews, and therefore, as they would see it, from God. As one whose marital affairs have forfeited normal respectability, she is an outcast also from her own people. So in every way she must be regarded as a hopeless sinner. She’s here at the sixth hour. This is the time when everyone else is resting in the shade from the burning summer heat. She’s ready to endure the heat, in order not to endure the nasty remarks and maybe even physical hostility of her village companions. But the sixth hour is also fraught with saving significance in this Gospel. St. John carefully notes that at the sixth hour Jesus was presented by Pilate as King of the Jews (19:14); and at this hour he was led off to be crucified.
The whole scene takes place by Jacob’s well. Naturally we take this as a symbol of the Old Testament. This water can represent life confined to this earth, and also life lived within the law received from God by the Jews. This is quite positive as far as it goes. The well can represent God’s gift of life, and his provident care. Yet its water can only be drawn up with great labour. The labour must be constantly repeated, and at the end it will not stave off death. Very soon, though, in exchange for a little of Jacob’s hard-won water, Jesus will offer the free gift of the Holy Spirit, and eternal life, and the perfect freedom of the children of God.
There’s another layer of symbolism at play here, because Isaac and Jacob and Moses all met their future wives by a well. So here is Jesus the divine bridegroom, apparently seeking out his wife, who represents all of us, and in herself symbolises the Catholic Church. But what a Bride he finds here! Surely no one could be less suitable! Her five husbands naturally suggest the five pagan peoples settled in Samaria by the King of Assyria in 721 B.C. (cf. 2 Kings 17:24). These foreign peoples were worshippers of the idol Baal, whose name can be translated “My Husband”. But now she is to find her true husband, who comes looking for her, as he comes looking for each one of us.
Jesus is really fatigued, and really thirsty. This is the only place in the New Testament where this is explicitly stated: apart from the cry I thirst! on the Cross. In his humanity, then, Jesus suffers physically as we all do, and he suffers to an extreme extent. How typical it is of St. John to insist on this, just as he gives exalted teaching about the divine status of Jesus, and the heavenly gifts he offers! But this thirst of Jesus is symbolic, as well as real. Jesus thirsts for our faith. He thirsts to give us the Spirit. He thirsts to pour out on us living water which will quench our own fundamental thirst. He thirsts to give us eternal life, and a share in his relationship with his heavenly Father.
This is all doctrine, and for us it’s life giving. But it’s presented here as a drama, like a play on stage. There’s immediate human interest, as the two characters spar against each other. We are drawn in, as we note the momentous consequences of the interchange. You could really classify this as comedy. Look at how ill-matched the two are! He who is God Incarnate; he who bears divine power, he who has at his disposal the gift of life; against she who is really nobody and nothing. Yet she somehow holds her own! She is cheeky, or teasing, without quite being disrespectful. She fails to understand what he says, but she lands up as an effective evangelist.
The hour is coming, says Jesus, when true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and in truth (4:23).
In John, the Hour of Jesus refers especially to his Passion and Death. That will at last inaugurate true worship of God: through Jesus, with Jesus and in Jesus. So for us now the Hour is any time, and especially liturgical time, when Christ’s saving death is remembered, and made present for us.
Why did Jesus die? Why does it matter that we have faith in him? Why does it matter that we receive the Holy Spirit? Why must we be baptised? Yes of course to be saved from death; yes of course to receive the gift of eternal life. But also: so that we might worship God the Father, as Jesus does.
In the Book of Apocalypse (see especially chapters 4 & 5) John looks into heaven, and he sees heavenly worship. The Twenty Four Elders cast down their crowns. The Four Living Creatures cry out Holy Holy Holy! And the Lamb standing as though slain is declared to be worthy of blessing and honour and glory, equally with the One who sits on the Throne.
All this is evoked in our Holy Mass. For our worship is no longer limited to the Jerusalem Temple, but it takes place anywhere the Church is. It’s worship in spirit: not, that is, with animal sacrifices, but with the sacrifice of purified hearts. And it’s worship also in truth, because not only is it not contaminated by the errors of idolatry or syncretism, but also here figures have given way to the reality they signified. Here Jesus Himself is the principal actor. Here Jesus offers his own sacrifice to the Father: and us along with himself.
At the end of this scene, the Samaritan woman apparently absent-mindedly leaves behind her water jar. As we approach Easter, we too need to leave our stuff behind. We should go to confession to have our sins absolved. And we should realise that ultimately nothing on this earth matters: apart, that is, from getting to God, through the blood of Jesus Christ our Lord.