Sermon: Lent 3

A Thirst for Justice, A Hunger for Peace
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Lent 3, Year A (RCL)
John 4:5-42

Living within each of us, there’s a deep, dark hole from which we hunger, from which we thirst. At the center of our being, there’s an eternal reservoir of emptiness which calls out to be fed. From our birth to our death, we seek fulfillment, we seek to plug this hole will something, to fill our lives with satisfaction and the gleeful feeling of happiness. Often times our hunger and thirst can be so much that they consume us. Often times we over eat to find contentment, or over drink and get drunk in order to escape the painful reality of our barrenness. Other times we shop to fill this hole, mistakenly believing that clothes do indeed make the man, or that having that extra room in that new house will provide us with the necessary extra space for serenity. Still other times we fill that hole with work, keeping ourselves busy and believing that our productivity with eventually be able to supply the demands of our emptiness. For a time we feast, but then we become hungry again. For a time our thirst is assuaged, but then we are thirsty again.

In today’s Gospel, we hear of the thirst that draws the Samaritan woman to the well, we hear of the hunger that leads the disciples to go to a neighboring city to buy food. Yet we also hear of something that Jesus calls “living water”; a kind of water that quenches thirst forever, which becomes in us a source of water in and of itself; a spring of water gushing up within us, giving us eternal life. And we hear of some mystery food that Jesus eats that even his own disciples don’t know about; a food that sustains Jesus even when his disciples presume that he must be starving. Jesus tells the Samaritan woman at the well, and later his disciples, of a way to fill that eternal hunger which can never be satisfied by the water from the well or the loaves and fishes from the fields and sea. Jesus tells us of a way which you and I can seek to fill our lives with a satisfaction which will sustain us for a life time.

So, what’s the secret? What’s the food that Jesus eats that helps him to fill that hole, that sense of hunger and emptiness within his soul? Jesus tells us when he tells his disciples, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work.” What’s the will of God and how do we complete God’s work? We complete God’s work not by saying “four more months and then I’ll help that person, then I’ll give to the poor, then I’ll seek reconciliation with my estranged wife or husband, mother or father, then I’ll work for peace and justice both locally and abroad. Four more months and then I’ll enter into the harvest.” Rather, we complete God’s work by saying “now is the time and this is the place.” We do this by looking around us and seeing that the fields are already ripe for harvesting and to start that difficult yet eternally rewarding work of helping others, reconciling with others, serving others, advocating for justice for others and peace for all, loving and forgiving our neighbors as God loves and forgives us.

Jesus provides us with the perfect example of this work, of his entering into God’s harvest, when he calls to the Samaritan woman to give him a drink. Jesus is not thirsty for the water which this woman can fetch out of the well. Jesus is thirsty for the justice which comes from a prominent Jew speaking publicly with not only a woman, but a woman from Samaria. You see, Samaritans in that day and age were seen as inferior to Jews because, even though they themselves were once Jewish, they had had children with their non-Jewish oppressors while their land was occupied, thus tainting their bloodlines, culture, et cetera. So, when Jesus asks the Samaritan woman for a drink, he is not only crossing gender lines; he is also crossing class lines, tribal lines and religious lines. In speaking openly and publicly with the Samaritan woman, Jesus is knocking down those walls between them; that dam which impedes the flow of God’s life-giving, living water.

In my own life, I’m reminded of a couple of times when I was parched and my stomach was growling yet the purpose for which I fasted fed me. Back when I was in high school I participated with my church youth group in something called the 30-hour famine. In the weeks leading up to the event, we raised money through sponsors and donors, money which would go to the millions of kids around the world who go hungry every day. On the day of the event, we fasted for 30 hours; we fasted for just over a day in order to be in solidarity with the over 29 thousand kids and parents who die from hunger each day. The event started at Noon on Friday. By 6pm many of us were hungry, by 6am the next morning, most of us were starving. That Saturday we spent the day playing games, doing outreach services projects, and doing our best to keep our minds off of the fact that we were hungry. In the end, it wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be, not because I was strong enough to do it, but because the living food which came from the support of my friends and the purpose of our fasting feed me along the way.

About a decade later, I once again found myself fasting for a cause. This time it wasn’t for the millions of starving kids around the world, it was for the janitors who worked in many of the office buildings in downtown Cincinnati. Together with local union representatives, we organized several simultaneous peaceful protests outside of many of the corporate headquarters in the city. As a part of this peaceful protest, we fasted in order to be in solidarity with those janitors who often times had to spend their checks on healthcare instead of food. For an entire week we stood outside of the Cincinnati Enquirer’s building (the city’s largest newspaper), fasting in protest each day. At the end of the week, the promise of negotiations between the realty corporation who hired the janitors and the janitors themselves became a reality. In the end I was fed, not by sandwiches and snacks from the corner deli, but by an experience of solidarity with modern-day Samaritans; with Latinos and Latinas in our society who are just squeaking to get by and almost always go unnoticed by the rich and powerful of our own time.

Everyday we drink to quench our thirst, yet wake up the next morning thirsty again. Everyday we eat to fill our hunger, yet rise the next day to a growling stomach. We all know that to drink water from the well is to be thirsty again. Yet Jesus promises us something more, God gives us something more. God gives us a living water which Jesus pours upon us in our Baptism, in our Baptismal Covenant, that living water that fills us when we “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving [our] neighbor as [ourselves]”, that feeds us when we “strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.” This is the water that quenches our eternal thirst, that gushes up within us, that can feed not only us but can also feed the crowds, can feed the millions who thirst for justice and hunger for peace. Today, may we leave this place hungry, hungry to do God’s will and work in the world, hungry to reap the harvest of reconciliation, justice and peace. Amen.