Category: Reflections

All of you are familiar with those Gatorade commercials that display athletes dripping with sweat as they sit down on the bench to quench their thirst.  Gatorade has made a lot of money from advertising their sports drink as the “ultimate thirst quencher.”  It almost makes you thirsty enough to buy a Gatorade from the gas station just thinking about it.  Our Gospel today, my friends, presents us with a different kind of “thirst quencher”—the Ultimate Thirst Quencher: Jesus himself, who, in this wonderful passage waits for the woman at the well.

Before we get into the details and what they mean, I want to point out five words that give us an important context clue immediately before the reading from John begins: Jesus, “had to pass through Samaria” (Jn. 4:4).  For a Jew, that would not really have been necessary.  In fact, Jews would intentionally go around Samaria to avoid passing through it because of the animosity between Jews and Samaritans, yet it was part of God’s saving plan to pass through Samaria that day.  There’s an additional layer of complexity to all of this too: neither did men and women did interact with one another outside of family relations in ancient Jewish culture—especially when alone.^[1]  And so, this sustained conversation between a Samaritan woman and Jesus, a Jew, is breaking all sorts of religious and social conventions.

As the crow flies, the way from Jerusalem to Sychar where Jesus stops to rest is about thirty miles.^[2]  Our Lord is tired and thirsty from the journey.  And here we find another significant detail: the hour is “noon” when Jesus stops to sit at the well-side.  It’s then that the woman of Samaria comes to draw water.  No one goes to draw water at noon under the heat of the Palestinian sun—it’s the hottest time of the day!  Most people would go in the cool of the morning or at evening.  This woman has made the already laborious task of drawing water and carrying it back home even more burdensome in the noonday heat.  There must be a reason she is going at this absurd hour.  Why?  It’s probably because she does not want to meet or encounter anyone.  She is a public sinner and excluded from the company of decent women^[3]—an outcast.  

And God is begging this sinner for a drink.  Jesus only asks for a drink twice in the Gospels: here and from the Cross when he uttered, “I thirst” (Jn. 19:28).  He is a thirsty God.  He looks for the companionship of his creatures.^[4]  And he offers life-giving water to those who enter into relationship with him.  The woman at the well is aware of her physical thirst: “Sir, give me this water, so that I may not be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water” (Jn. 4:15).  Yet Jesus is in touch with a deeper thirst within her.  He uses her human thirst to evoke from her a true spiritualthirst.  Jesus wants her to discover, through her experience of this world’s physical thirst, her soul’s thirst for God.  “Give me a drink” (Jn. 4:7): Jesus’ thirst is his divine desire to give himself to us.^[5]  Unlike the water of this world, the living water he gives will not fail to satisfy.  It is an interior source of refreshment because it is a participation in his own divine life.^[6]  One of the Fathers of the Church, St. Gregory Nazianzen, calls Jesus “the thirsty fountain.”^[7]  He is both thirst for souls and thirst-quencher of souls!

The conversation profoundly deepens when Jesus reads this woman’s heart.  She can only say, “Sir, I can see that you are a prophet” (Jn. 4:19).  There is no human way he can know this about her.  He knows her inwardly because he is God.  He knows the many times she has attempted marriage.  He knows her sin.  He knows she has loved and lost so many times.  And he knows her deep sadness at never having found true love.  In her frantic search for love, she has failed to find the One who truly satisfies.^[8]  And so she finds herself alone at the well and face to Face with the One she truly needs: the Messiah she has been waiting for, Jesus—the divine Bridegroom who has come to woo her thirsting heart towards the love that can satisfy— “I am he, the one who is speaking with you” (Jn. 4:26).  

This is the salvific moment and the encounter that will change her life forever, and we know this because it says that she “left her water jar” (Jn. 4:28a).  Jesus thirsted for her faith,^[9] and in coming to faith in Jesus Christ she found the answer to her spiritual thirst.  She is converted!  Her abandoning of the water jar symbolizes “a life that no longer needs to carry the same crushing and absurd burdens or repeat the same useless tasks.”^[10]  Her conversion is dripping with irony.  The whole reason she came to the well at such an hour in the first place was because she did not want to meet or encounter anyone, yet after meeting Jesus she now runs out to tell everyone about him: “Come see a man who told me everything I have done.  Could he possibly be the Messiah?” (Jn. 4:29).  Jesus becomes her new concern, and she becomes an evangelist!^[11]  This is the power of what Jesus can do with a heart willing to enter into a sustained, vulnerable conversation with him.  The Catechism sums up this encounter so beautifully: “The wonder of prayer is revealed beside the well where we come seeking water: there, Christ comes to meet every human being. It is he who first seeks us and asks us for a drink. Jesus thirsts; his asking arises from the depths of God’s desire for us. Whether we realize it or not, prayer is the encounter of God’s thirst with ours. God thirsts that we may thirst for him.”^[12]

Jesus is first to thirst.  “He had to pass through Samaria” (Jn. 4:4) because long before the woman at the well came for a drink, Jesus had been thirsting for her love.  And he thirsts for our love too.  The funny thing is nothing is ever mentioned in this Gospel passage about either Jesus or the woman actually drinking a single drop of water at their well-side encounter.  And that’s because the exchange of love that ensued has refreshed and satisfied them both.^[13]  Bring your spiritual thirst to the well of prayer to drink often and to drink deeply because Jesus is waiting there to quench your thirst.  He is the Ultimate Thirst Quencher.  He is “the thirsty fountain” who both thirsts for your love and provides living water to those who come to him in faith.  Only by drinking from this source of divine life can we ourselves become fountains of living water in the midst of a thirsting world.^[14]

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^[1] Cf. Francis Martin and William M. Wright IV, The Gospel of John. Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2015), 83.

^[2] Cf. Erasmo Leiva-Merikakis, The Way of the Disciple (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2003), 102.

^[3] Cf. Ibid., 104.

^[4] Cf. Ibid., 105.

^[5] Cf. Ibid., 107.

^[6] Cf. Martin, The Gospel of John, 84.

^[7] Merikakis, The Way of the Disciple, 107.

^[8] Cf. Ibid., 111-12.

^[9] Cf. Roman Missal, Preface from the Third Sunday of Lent.

^[10] Merikakis, The Way of the Disciple, 112.

^[11] Cf. Ibid., 113.

^[12] Catechism of the Catholic Church, §2560; Cf. St. Augustine, De diversis quaestionibus octoginta tribus 64,4.

^[13] Cf. Merikakis, The Way of the Disciple, 112.

^[14] Cf. Pope Benedict XVI, Deus Caritas Est, §42. http://www.vatican.va/content/benedict-xvi/en/encyclicals/documents/hf_ben-xvi_enc_20051225_deus-caritas-est.html

 “Lord, you stepped into the empty boat of an empty fisherman, exhausted from a night of futile toil and without a catch. And you not only asked him to put out a little from the shore, but to put out into the deep for a catch. How quickly can you bring a soul from being so empty and without the joy of the catch to being so full of your abundance. My own futile efforts often lead me to emptiness and exhaustion because, in my frenzy of activity, I don’t stop to ask or listen for where you want me to labor and to lower my nets for a catch. Help me, Jesus, to be more discerning of where and when to fish for souls in my ministry. Help me to listen for your bidding. For to toil where you ask means little toil at all but only your abundance.”

“This leper…I imagine him tired of accepting the debilitating disease which afflicts him day after day.  [In Luke’s gospel it says] he is ‘full of leprosy’ — covered with leprosy.  There is no reversing this.  He is beyond the point of healing, but not beyond God’s healing.  I imagine he must have caught word of who Jesus is and the mighty works he was doing.  We don’t know how long he knew about Jesus, but the remote possibility of being healed must have occurred to him.  He must have pondered it and turned it over in his heart.  ‘I’m tired of just accepting that I am beyond repair.’  Some initial faith moved him towards the Lord—out of isolation and alienation and into the city he was forbid to enter.  He took a great risk of being ridiculed and rebuked by others to come near to Jesus.”

“Reflecting more on the backstory of this leper.  His sickness has become an obstacle to him communing with God in public worship (and therefore with others).  He is truly an outcast, separated from society.  I imagine he thought back on his childhood years before he was sick when he got to go to the synagogue and to the temple.  Hearing about the Jesus who can heal, he must have doubted at first—thinking he was a lost cause.  But, over time, and we don’t know how long, that doubt turned into an initial faith and a faint hope. Maybe he would one day enter the city in spite of all of this with the hopes of running into Jesus.  And this is exactly what happened eventually in one great act of courageous vulnerability.  The very thing that kept this man (Jewish in his roots) from communing with God brings him face to face with the God-man, Jesus Christ.”

“‘Lord, if you will, you can make me clean.’  That’s nice, but is it too good to be true for me? Is God that good when I am that unworthy to receive it?  His shame does not stifle his prayer. He shows his wound and brings it to the One who can heal.  Christ touches the leper because He does not fear our contagion or pollution, but has power over it.”

“He is beyond healing, beyond a cure; He is helpless in his debilitating sickness.  He heart about Jesus, the one who heals, yet he must have doubted for some time until something in him started hoping for a little healing.  His stumbling about in his pitiful state must have brought him to the desperation that is ripe for God’s workings.  The beginnings of faith awakened in him a desire to go to Jesus and the window of opportunity came.  He takes a great risk by stepping out of his isolation from others by going into town to seek Jesus; others will ridicule him for it, but he is driven by faith in the One he has begun to believe can heal.  He sees Jesus and Jesus sees him; he falls on face—an act of worship followed by an honest desperation as he begs Jesus to heal him and make him clean again.  All is now on the line, but he has moved Jesus by his heartfelt faith and his pitiful plea, and our Lord has compassion on him.  The very thing that kept this leper from community and public worship has now brought him face to Face with the living God who wants and wills that he be clean, and the Lord grants him what he desires for his vulnerability and ardent faith.”

A letter to future priests written in June of 2022, after my first year of priesthood

Dear future Rev. Father,

As I near the end of my first year of priesthood, I am reflecting on the many “firsts” that were/are part of this year of grace. There are some things I want you to know about, and yet, my writing this is just as much for me as it is for you.

First, I have never been more happy, sacrificial, tired, stretched, and fulfilled in my life. Second, I want to share with you in more detail what some of those “firsts” have been this year. Some are powerful moments of experiencing God’s providence, some are humbling moments of weakness and mistakes, some are graced moments of intimacy with the Lord in ministry…others are heart-wrenching events and encounters that will leave you with nowhere to go except to the Sorrowful and Sacred Heart of Jesus in your pain. These I want you to know about before being ordained. And don’t worry about not being prepared enough to face them. There are certain things that nothing can prepare you for, and that is okay. God’s grace has always come to provide for me in those moments when I needed it most as long as I was open to cooperating with and asking for his help.

Your ordination day will be one of the happiest days of your life. Celebrating Mass and hearing Confessions for the first time was so beautiful. As I prayed with the hundreds of people that came to receive my priestly blessing, there were times in which I literally felt power coming from my hands. That is because they have been anointed to be Jesus’ hands and not my own. The hands they kiss are His own.

You will preside at the marriages of young couples who are full of joy on their wedding day, and you will share in their joy with them. You will get to know young families who are truly life-giving to be around. You will encounter truly saintly souls in the confessional and in letter exchanges. You will be an instrument of mercy in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. You will hear powerful confessions and will witness tears of repentance fall from the faces of the penitents.

You will listen to the pains and hurts of those who have experienced abuse or sexual violence or addiction in their lives. In my first month in the parish, I was publicly slandered in front of my parishioners by a man after Mass one day for challenging him (one on one) to take responsibility for his life instead of looking for a giveaway and playing the victim. I felt a mysterious joy to suffer for the sake of the Name. You will inevitably deal with individuals who are experiencing serious psychological issues or who are even suicidal. You will also deal with those who are afflicted by severe scrupulosity, and this will be challenging. You will be given chances to pray prayers of deliverance with people, to give them blessings, and to lead them in prayer to forgive others and renounce what is unholy. Sadly, you will also witness the activity of the Devil in people’s lives in some very clear and evil ways. This year, I’ve spoken with people near and far who are spiritually oppressed and attempted to talk or pray with them in that moment whether in person or over the phone.

It is likely that you will be called in to the hospital to administer emergency Baptism and Confirmation—especial to those infants in the new-natal critical care unit who are in danger of death. I’ve done this at least 3 times, and it is both difficult and grace filled. Some of the hardest days will involve the death of the young. You will be called to console those who have lost children—infants, teens, etc. I’ve been called in to bless the mortal remains of a 14-week-old as well as the body of a four-month-old who did not make it. Their parents were heartbroken, and your heart will break with them. The hardest day I’ve ever had at the hospital so far was being present with the family of a 9-day old as he passed away in the arms of his parents. I was physically exhausted by my emotional exhaustion that day. I needed to spend some extra time with Jesus to let him console me.

You will bless the bodies of those who have prayed for and undergone a “holy death” and are surrounded by their family. You will pray for Divine Mercy at the bedside of the dying. You will anoint—often! You will celebrate the Sacrament of the Anointing of the Sick frequently. Many, many times I’ve been to the ICU to anoint those whose health is failing. One difficult anointing was an individual who was the victim of a tragic car accident. I’ve been grateful to have had access in the hospital to anoint patients at least four or five times who have had COVID. As a priest, you will witness inexplicable recoveries of those who have been anointed. This has already happened at least 2 or 3 times this year so far. You will see God orchestrate things perfectly when he really wants something to happen—in or out of the hospital—and you will watch him answer prayers for the recovery of the sick when their growth in faith and deeper conversion is for his glory.

Sometimes you will be called into difficult situations or tragedies which will feel powerless over. Know that in those moments the power lies not in what you say or don’t say but in your presence as another Christ and in the consoling prayers of the Church. I was once called in this year to bless the body of a high school senior who died from a tragic car accident, and before I even set foot in the funeral home, I could hear the wailing of the family from within. You will console families in those moments, you will celebrate funeral Masses for their loved ones who have died. At times, you will accompany the families who have lost a loved one and in particular who are extremely difficult to work with in the way they are handling their grief, yet you will learn to be patient, tender, understanding, and realistically accommodating while trying to preserve your own sanity. On those days, taking a walk down to the school to join the kids for recess will give your mind some rest with play and refresh you to return to your ministry with childlike simplicity.

You will often be pushed to limits of what you can give. You will celebrate a weekend full of Masses, arrive back at the rectory, prepare a quick dinner, and then the phone will ring from the hospital right as you sit down to eat. And you will have a choice to die to self again to serve the needs of the sick and dying when an emergency calls for it. It has been taxing to go that extra mile when I’ve felt like I have nothing left to give, but I’ve never regretted going. Sometimes, those have been the most “anointed” anointings where God’s presence is very felt. You will have your boundaries challenged in ways that will stretch you and teach you your limits.

This year I’ve struggled often with balancing self-care, initial priestly zeal, and a giving in s spirit of joyful generosity. I’ve experienced moments of weakness, fatigue, and mental exhaustion. I’ve felt overwhelmed at times and exhausted by the seemingly infinite demands of ministry. You will feel like you can’t handle it all, and that’s okay. I’m learning that it’s not just “ok,” but it’s also true. Only Jesus can, and he will do what he can do through you. I’ve struggled during this first year of sometimes holding myself to too high of a standard. I’ve had my own insecurities surface and been humbled by my own spiritual poverty or poverty in love, my weakness, my limitations, and sometimes my sins. I need his mercy too, and I can’t forget that. It makes me so much more compassionate for those whose confessions I hear on a weekly basis. You will also learn to delegate and the ever present need to let go of control and abandon everything to God. I’ve made this prayer many a time: “Lord, give me the people I need to get what you want done.” He is also answered that prayer many a time. At times, I’ve struggled to maintain recollection with the multitude of things than can happen on a given day in the five minutes prior to Mass.

But you will also find rest with Jesus in refreshing solitude. There, you will bring the emotional pain that you have carried from encountering others’ sorrows, burdens, suffering, and awful situations and will have nowhere else to pour it out except to unite it to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. And this will draw union into a closer bond with Him. You will be keenly aware at times that the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass that you are offering is for the reparations of sins. You will find refreshment in the company of brother priests, and this will sustain you.

There are times, my brother, when you will feel the Holy Spirit speak directly through you to others in preaching, praying with others, consoling the suffering, and in the confessional. Once I was given a spontaneous word of knowledge that completely renewed a man’s motivation to continue with life and with treatments for his sickness. He walked his daughter down the aisle just months later whereas, he was on the point of despair and throwing in the towel in the hospital before our conversation and his being given the Sacraments to strengthen him.

Second to being a beloved son, you will be a father. People will call you “Father,” and this is one of the greatest joys of being a priest. You are a spiritual father. I’ve so naturally felt the supernatural grace of spiritual fatherhood during this first year as a priest. It’s a part of my very being. I’ve experienced the reality of my spiritual fatherhood especially as I hear the confessions of teens and young people who are struggling. I’ve felt it in my interactions with the students at the school and that mutual affection and joy to be in one another’s presence. I’ve felt it with the Hispanic community as they will look to you to be their father and bless them and their children with a good word and a prayer. I love being a priest! It is the treasure of my heart worth selling everything for that has come from the joy of discovering Jesus and his call for me to be his own priest. I hope that this letter both agitates the desires of your heart and awakens from you the yearning to respond to his call. I am praying for you, future Reverend Father, and future brother Priest.

Sincerely in Christ,

A first-year Priest