For unity among Christians

Today marks the end of the annual Week of Prayer for Christian Unity.  This year, I was invited to share a reflection based on the account of the encounter Jesus had with the Samaritan woman at a well in the city of Sychar.  Here is the text of the meditation I shared with those who took part in today's afternoon prayer service.

Give me a drink

A reflection for the Week of Prayer

for Christian Unity

Not long after I arrived in this city - more than two years ago now - I was told about the special relationship of friendship and collaboration that has existed among the people of various Christian traditions in this city. As we have done for so many years past, today, we are here to pray together: to recognize once more that we are all on a journey of faith. This journey has a common beginning at the baptismal font and is enriched all the more by the gifts and talents we share together and by the stories we share when we gather to pray together on an occasion such as this.

Saint John's account of the encounter Jesus had with the woman of Sychar is one of the most well-known and often told stories of the precious gentleness with which Jesus calls us all to recognize the deep thirst that inhabits our hearts, and the wonderful gift of living water that he offers to all those who are humble enough to ask for it.

The story begins by painting a portrait of Jesus who arrives at Jacob's well after having travelled for some distance. Tired out by the journey, he sits down to rest by the well (cf Jn 4:6). How well we can relate with Jesus in this moment of frailty, for as we travel the journey of faith, we all find ourselves in similar situations: we are tired out by the many demands that are placed on us, we are tired out by the lack of concrete gestures and words of gratitude for the efforts we  expend - whether such a gap be real or imagined - we are tired out by the exasperation we sometimes encounter when despite our best efforts, there always seems to be more that we can or should do. At times, it takes everything we have left simply to utter a few simple but deeply profound words: give me a drink (Jn 4:7), yet once this simple admission of our frailty is voiced, it is Jesus himself who gives us living water that wells up within us (Jn 4:13).

At times, we are not even aware of the living water that is being offered - like the woman who was going about her daily chores, oblivious to the grace that was unfolding right before her very eyes.  She was probably used to the routine: carrying her water jug to the well but constantly having to be on her guard. Why else would she make the journey in the heat of the day rather than in the early morning hours when the other women in the village would customarily gather? Perhaps she herself had been fatigued too often by the judgemental looks of those who knew parts of the journey of her life - parts that she would have preferred to keep hidden from prying eyes and whispering tongues. 

As she approached the well that day, she would have seen the man sitting there. I wonder what went through her mind: what is a man doing sitting there? And he's a Jew! This woman, also tired out by her journey arrived at the well, and discovered living water, but what of us? Can it be true that this living water is still offered for us today?

For the past (almost) two weeks, I've been visiting with Father Rex in his native land. The journey from North Bay to the seaside town of Kanyiakumari in Southern India took more than two days. As I travelled, I was very aware of my own physical fatigue, but in those first hours after my arrival, I was also aware of another kind of tiredness: the kind of fatigue that might go unnoticed for far too long when we get caught up in the daily routines of carrying our own burdens: a deep tiredness of the soul. I silently uttered a prayer - finally perceiving the heartfelt thirst that had left me wanting.  I am firmly convinced that Jesus heard my prayer that day, for the answer was revealed, not immediately but in very short order.

The living water that Jesus provides for all those who thirst is indeed capable of refreshing our souls, but it is never given for self-serving purposes. Instead, this living water springs up within us, giving us new strength to go beyond the limits of egocentric temptation and to reach out in service to others.

So it was that on the very first evening of my visit to Southern India, I was introduced to Father Sahim, a priest who for the past six years has been working at a school for poor children. We stood on the rocks at the southern tip of the Indian subcontinent, looking out over the confluence of the Bay of Bengal, the Indian Ocean and the Arabian Sea, and he offered to introduce me to the children. Last week was a time of holidays in the State of Tamilnadu so only about forty of the children were still there: others had gone home to their families, like the disciples who had left Jesus at the well and gone into the town to buy food (Jn 4:8). The few children who remained were orphans. Father Sahim and the staff at the school are their family now. There's something about the look of innocence in a little girl's eyes, or the playful fascination with posing for photos with friends that brings such healing to tired souls. The absolute trust of a child who can dance and laugh, seemingly unaware of all she has lost is equally refreshing.

As the week continued, I had other such encounters: each of them a precious meeting at the well where living water is given: like the visit to the tomb of Mother Teresa in Calcutta. She is buried in a very simple tomb located in the chapel at the Motherhouse of the Missionaries of Charity. This holy woman spent one hour a day in silent prayer in that very chapel. From the well of living water, she drew the strength to go out into the streets in search of the poorest of the poor, sharing with each one she met, the living water she herself had received. This work of compassion continues even today for the sake of children who are abandoned at birth, or because they have physical or mental challenges, and for adults who face the certainty of dying in the not-too-distant future. As I walked through the nursery, I could almost hear Mother herself speaking: bring me the children; I want them all.

We pray today with the church of Brazil, a country that is known for its warmth and hospitality, but a country where the interests of the few have far too often caused great pain and suffering for the many.  Our homeland is not so different from theirs. People in our midst are thirsting in so many ways. Jesus invites us again today to be attentive to the ways in which we ourselves are afraid to approach the well of encounter with him and with others. If we ourselves are aware even for the first time today that we are being offered the precious gift of living water, perhaps we will become more and more capable of approaching the well, and eventually be able to overcome any fear of who or what we might encounter there. Perhaps we will learn to recognize the thirst that inhabits our souls, and learn to ask for a drink that is truly able to refresh us and give us life. Perhaps we will even be inspired to go out in search of others, and courageously share with them the testimony of our own encounter with Jesus, and perhaps with God's grace, others will hear for themselves and know that this man really is the saviour of the world (Jn 4:42).