3rd Sunday of Lent 2020 - I Thirst

During my semester abroad in Rome, I volunteered every week at a homeless shelter run by the Missionary Sisters of Charity. A few others seminarians and I, along with some American college students would serve breakfast to the homeless men of Rome, and then we’d spend a few hours washing bedsheets from the infirmary. But before we were allowed to begin our work, we instructed to visit the chapel to pray with our Blessed Lord. We were to pray that we would see Him in those we served. Pretty much, no matter where you are in the world, the chapels of the Missionary Sisters of Charity are pretty austere. A tabernacle. No pews, for they stand or kneel on the floor. But in every one of their chapels around the world is a crucifix , with the bloodied christ looking upwards toward heaven, with words written in Italian next to the crucifix. Two words: “Ho sete”, I thirst, words uttered by Our Lord of course on Calvary, as he hung upon the cross. “Ho sete”, I thirst

Certainly he spoke of a physical thirst. After all, the blood loss and exertion from carrying the cross, must have caused unimaginable dehydration and dryness of mouth and throat. And yet, he no doubt spoke of a thirst of soul, a thirst which drove his mission, from Nazareth to the cross to do with will of his Father, a yearning for his Father described the 63rd Psalm: My God, for you I long, for you my soul is thirsting, like a dry weary land without water.”

Mother Theresa wanted her sisters to see those words “Ho Sete”, “I thirst” and meditate upon them every time they entered the chapel, no matter what part of the world in which they were stationed. For Mother wanted the  sisters to see in every person they served, in the poorest of the poor, the thirsting Christ. And to remember, that what they did for the least ones, they did for him. In every cup of water, they quenched his thirst.

But Mother Theresa also wanted her sisters to recall their own thirst, which could only be satisfied by Christ. That thirst quenched by their time in the chapel, in adoration and reception of the Eucharist. They are required to spend an hour in eucharistic adoration every day. But also their thirst for Christ which could only be quenched by their service. In serving the poorest of the poor, they would encounter Him, if their hearts were open.

Each one of us possesses a deep thirst for God—it is our deepest thirst and longing. I don’t think any of us would be here today, during this time of quarantine, if not for that thirst. Please know, however, that the obligation to attend mass has been dispensed of for the next three weeks by the bishops of ohio and our diocesan administrator, and certainly you should not come to mass if you are ill or have symptoms of the flu or corona virus.

And just as it is for the Missionary Sisters of Charity, what we do in here—the quenching of our thirst for the divine—prepares us for what must be done out there—to meet Christ in the poor and suffering.  In a time of plague and global pandemic, Christ must still be fed out there, he must still be visited, he must still be consoled. You might want to check in on the widow next door and make sure she has enough to eat, and to call your loved ones, encourage them to pray.

In the Gospel, Our Lord asks the Samaritan woman for a drink of water. The Lord certainly shattered some of the social conventions of his day: a Jew…a man…speaking to a Samaritan…a woman…coming in close contact with her, even taking a drink of water from her. Here the Lord shattered a sort of fear which gripped the people of his day, one which still operates today. A fear of the stranger, a fear bred through generations, passed on from parent to child. That sort of fear is not to operate in the Church, and must not keep Christians from charity and service.

The Lord’s conversation with the woman soon turned from his physical thirst, to her thirst for God, a thirst which the Lord promised could be quenched through Him. “Everyone who drinks the water of the well will be thirsty again; but whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst; the water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” To which the woman responds with faith: “give me this water”

And this is why he came. This is why he died. That the waters of eternal life may well up within us. For not only does the woman thirst, not only do we all thirst for Christ. Christ thirsts for us. God thirsts for us. Listen to the beautiful words of our Eucharistic preface today: “For when he asked the Samaritan woman for water to drink, he had already created the gift of faith within her, and so ardently did he thirst for her faith, that he kindled in her the fire of divine love.”  Jesus thirsts for us to turn to him in faith, and to allow him to kindle in our hearts fire, the fire of divine love.

This week we’ve seen reports of hoards of people irrationally hoarding the basic necessities, including water. There would have been a lot less panic, and fear, and hoarding this week, had the prayer of the Samaritan woman been on the lips and hearts of our fellow citizens: “Lord give me the water of eternal life”. For the fear of death which gives rise to violence and irrational hoarding and materialism and every sin, is cast out by love of Jesus Christ—by the divine fire.

In this time of global distress, may Christians, having the water of life welling up within them, teach the world—to turn to the waters of Christ, for the glory of God and salvation of souls.