Passion Sunday

Passion Sunday

We adore you, O Christ, as we bless you,

for by your holy cross you have redeemed the world

TODAY is Passion Sunday. As we move towards the end of Lent, our focus turns to the cross. It is such a familiar symbol to us - we wear it as a treasured item of jewellery, it adorns our churches and we remember that in baptism we too are marked with the sign of the cross.  For Christians, the cross becomes a sign not only of Jesus’ suffering and God being with us in ours; but it also points to life and hope, healing and redemption. 

The word ‘passion’ conjures up perhaps intense feelings or energy, strong convictions or a deep commitment to an interest, hobby or person. In this season, passion is the lens through which we see afresh the depth of God’s love for us. Love that is a profound commitment to be with us in the midst of suffering and death. 

We enter into this time of our Lord’s passion, acutely aware of the reality of illness and death due to the Coronavirus; and perhaps aware of our own vulnerability too. Our readings take us to a place of dry bones and to a tomb. Perhaps they allow us both to acknowledge our reality, along with the pain of separation; may they also give us hope - there will be connection and life again; for love is stronger than death.  

To focus on Christ’s Passion increases our capacity to be compassionate.  As today’s post communion prayer says, what we do for our brothers and sisters we do also for God. Sometimes that means sharing in or being with them in intense emotion. Many people are weeping today, and in today’s Gospel, Jesus also weeps. Pope Francis has called today the “Sunday of Tears”

Today, we make space and time in our own homes to pray and to reflect on the readings for this Sunday.  This is a journey for all of us; together we will be learning how to pray for, support, encourage and care for each other.

As well as the readings and short reflections, I have also included to images: one from the Jesus MAFA which was an art project based in Cameroon; the other an image taken from the Methodist Art Collection. 

As we read, alone or in company, we might want to use an ancient practice called ‘lectio divina’ or divine reading. First, read the text slowly - aloud or silently - and notice what word or phrase holds your attention. Then, sit with that word or phrase in silence. Read the text again and then reflect on what the Spirit might be prompting you to think about or do.

We begin with today’s prayer for the day - which ‘collects’ together the themes at the heart of this Passion Sunday.

The Collect

Most merciful God, 

who by the death and resurrection

of your Son Jesus Christ delivered and saved the world:

grant that by faith in him who suffered on the cross

we may triumph in the power of his victory;

through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,

who is alive and reigns with you,

in the unity of the Holy Spirit,

one God, now and forever

You might want to read all three texts before reflecting; or focus on one, perhaps coming back to others over the day or week ahead. Note that the Gospel is quite a long passage; so you may want to focus on that, or return to during the day/week.

Ezekiel 37:1-14

The hand of the Lord came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me all round them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry. He said to me, ‘Mortal, can these bones live?’ I answered, ‘O Lord God, you know.’ Then he said to me, ‘Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. I will lay sinews on you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live; and you shall know that I am the Lord.’

So I prophesied as I had been commanded; and as I prophesied, suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. I looked, and there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them; but there was no breath in them. Then he said to me, ‘Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, mortal, and say to the breath: Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.’ I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude.

Then he said to me, ‘Mortal, these bones are the whole house of Israel. They say, “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.” Therefore prophesy, and say to them, Thus says the Lord God: I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people; and I will bring you back to the land of Israel. And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people. I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act, says the Lord.’

Romans 8:6-11

To set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace. For this reason the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God; it does not submit to God’s law—indeed it cannot, and those who are in the flesh cannot please God.

But you are not in the flesh; you are in the Spirit, since the Spirit of God dwells in you. Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. But if Christ is in you, though the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness. If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit that dwells in you.

John 11:1-45

Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill. So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, ‘Lord, he whom you love is ill.’ But when Jesus heard it, he said, ‘This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.’ Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.

Then after this he said to the disciples, ‘Let us go to Judea again.’ The disciples said to him, ‘Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?’ Jesus answered, ‘Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them.’ After saying this, he told them, ‘Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him.’ The disciples said to him, ‘Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right.’ Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was referring merely to sleep. Then Jesus told them plainly, ‘Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.’ Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow-disciples, ‘Let us also go, that we may die with him.’

When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. Martha said to Jesus, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Your brother will rise again.’ Martha said to him, ‘I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.’ Jesus said to her, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?’ She said to him, ‘Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.’

When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately, ‘The Teacher is here and is calling for you.’ And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. The Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’ When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, ‘Where have you laid him?’ They said to him, ‘Lord, come and see.’ Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, ‘See how he loved him!’ But some of them said, ‘Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?’

Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, ‘Take away the stone.’ Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, ‘Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead for four days.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?’ So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upwards and said, ‘Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.’ When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’ The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, ‘Unbind him, and let him go.’

Many of the Jews therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him. 

Art Source: JESUS MAFA

Reflections

It might be that one of the most powerful lines in today’s readings is also the shortest. In the Gospel of John we read: “Jesus began to weep.” We might want to begin there; beginning in the middle of the story we hear. A story in which Jesus is set within a network of relationships: the debates with his disciples; the intimacy of close friendship; the wider community of the Jews. At the heart though is a tomb; the tomb of a dear friend. So he weeps.

Pope Francis speaks of today as the “Sunday of Tears”: it is also a day when we see Jesus confront death. The compassion of the tears identifies with us; but Jesus is not overcome by the darkness and finality of a tomb. Instead he confronts it: naming the pain of separation, the disruption of loss, the chaos of grief and giving us a glimpse of what is to come. That in his own passion he will confront, wrestle with and overcome death itself.

Jesus restores life to Lazarus. He restores life to the household of Mary and Martha. The stench of grief and decay is dispelled. They receive back what they thought they had lost. How might they have felt?  How might Lazarus have felt? 

The Jesus MAFA project captures something of joy and freedom and new life. This is the first-fruit of something greater and perhaps Riley’s image captures something of the mystery of that. For yes, Lazarus will still die to this world; but Jesus, in his Passion will defeat sin, suffering and death. 

This story gives a foretaste of that new creation; a new reality is beginning to break in. We are invited to receive it and to share it. But first we must enter into Jesus’ Passion. In our own households, in our own networks of love and care, will share some of the same vulnerabilities and questions of that home in Bethany; might we also be receptive to the love and life and hope Jesus brings. 

Martha expresses this trust in an eternal future - of life in abundance - when she speaks of the resurrection; but she and her sister glimpse something of that breaking into human history, into the disruption of grief that they carry.  Perhaps this new life is as disruptive as death itself. Certainly those in positions of power feel threatened by it. 

We see this life that really is life in the compassion of Jesus tears; in the restoration of a brother to his siblings; we will see it again in the passion of Jesus as he descends from cross to grave. And there too we might wait and weep. 

We wait trusting that this life that really is life will burst forth. Romans 8 is one of my favourite passages of Scripture. In today’s reading, we hear Paul exploring this new life. The life of the Spirit dwelling in us.  Rather than being preoccupied with the needs of the flesh, we are invited to please God, seeking all that is righteous. 

It is life that opposes and overcomes all that diminishes others; it resists the violence of injustice; it strips away claims to status and power; it reveals our vulnerabilities and also our dependence on others.  As it does so it reveals the gift of God’s Kingdom - where the need for justice and mercy and compassion

Some are re-naming today as the Second Sunday of Corona-tide.  For all the challenges, fears and disruption; amidst the very tangible nearness of illness, grief and death; are we also seeing new life in this shared experience of passion and suffering?

We are seeing a renewed commitment to public service. We witness the numbers offering to be NHS volunteers, the applause echoing around our streets as we showed appreciation for those working safe. There are renewed discussions about a citizens income; a review of universal credit and the resourcing of all that builds up our society.

We’re travelling less and perhaps consuming less. Streets are setting up WhatsApp or Facebook groups to connect those in need with those able to help; we are making more time to speak to those we cannot see. The loss of physical touch is hard; keeping our distance feels strange; but perhaps at a deep level we are relearning a collective body language of both passion and compassion. 

One day we will this season of isolation will end. One day we will be able to hug one another again. One day we will look back on this season of grief and pain and the nearness of death; and we will give thanks for the small things we’ve given or received, with love. Even now, as we break bread, may we know what really matters: a depth of love given for us in Jesus Christ. 

For now it may feel as if the seeds of that are buried in the ground. Some of you may be planting vegetables, perhaps for the first time; trusting that as those seeds die, they will take root and bring a modest yet rich harvest. Others of us may be watching tree blossom and flowers budding with a new delight. God’s Kingdom too might be hidden, but will spring forth in new ways. 

Ezekiel’s vision gives us a very vivid image for this new body language. It seems to the prophet that God’s people are forgotten - their bones lie scattered. He sees an absence of God when there is great need; it is a scene of lifelessness and fragmentation. It seems as if hope is lost. 

Yet this desolation is not the end either: the Lord declares ‘I will put my spirit within you, and you shall life’. May this be our prayer for our communities and our households, for our government and our creative industries; for NHS staff and those supplying food; for businesses and free-lancers.  May there be life.

Perhaps we might pray especially for those who are anxious and unwell; those who are facing death and having to mourn in ways that are very different in this lockdown season. May they know that they are loved; that there is compassion in their suffering; may they find life and hope.  Pray that they and we may know the breath of life; God’s holy and healing Spirit. 

Is this a season where the Spirit does make our dry bones live; where we are released from our tombs. What might it mean for us to be set free - to praise God but also to seek the justice of God’s Kingdom?

© Julie Gittoes 2020

Prayers

Lord Jesus Christ,

you have taught us 

that what we do for the least of 

our brothers and sisters

we do also for you:

give us the will to be the servant of others

as you were the servant of all,

and gave up your life and died for us,

but are alive and reign,

now and for ever. Amen.

John Reilly - The raising of Lazarus (Methodist Art Collection)

Mothering Sunday

Mothering Sunday

Over the coming weeks, we won’t be gathering together physically in the same place to worship, to hear God’s Word, to break bread together at the Eucharist and share in fellowship face to face.  Instead, we will be making space and time in our own homes to pray and to reflect on the readings for this Sunday.

This change is signifiant and no doubt we will be experiencing a range of feelings: it’s a disruption which might cause anxiety or a sense of loss; we might feel lonely or bored; we might experience this season an opportunity to rest and find new ways of strengthening community.

Along with the booklet of prayers for use at home, we will be sharing the prayers and readings for each Sunday, along with a devotional reflection; and questions to ponder. 

Above all, the thing which we can hold to is that nothing separates us from the love of God. We who have been shaped by our habits of life together - over weeks or decades - are bound together, even when we are alone.  This is a journey for all of us; together we will be learning how to pray for, support, encourage and care for each other.

As we read, alone or in company, we might want to use an ancient practice called ‘lectio divina’ or divine reading. First, read the text slowly - aloud or silently - and notice what word or phrase holds your attention. Then, sit with that word or phrase in silence. Read the text again and then reflect on what the Spirit might be prompting you to think about or do.

We begin with today’s prayer for the day - which ‘collects’ together the themes at the heart of this Mothering Sunday.

The Collect

God of compassion,

whose Son Jesus Christ, 

the child of Mary,

shared the life of a home in Nazareth,

and on the cross drew the whole 

human family to himself:

strengthen us in our daily living

that in joy and in sorrow

we may know the power of 

your presence to bind together and to heal;

though Jesus Christ you Son our Lord,

who is alive and reigns with you,

in the unity of the Holy Spirit,

one God, now and for ever.

Amen.

You might want to read all three texts before reflecting; or focus on one, perhaps coming back to others over the day or week ahead.

Exodus 2:1-10

Now a man from the house of Levi went and married a Levite woman. 2 The woman conceived and bore a son; and when she saw that he was a fine baby, she hid him for three months. 3 When she could hide him no longer she got a papyrus basket for him, and plastered it with bitumen and pitch; she put the child in it and placed it among the reeds on the bank of the river. 4 His sister stood at a distance, to see what would happen to him.

5 The daughter of Pharaoh came down to bathe at the river, while her attendants walked beside the river. She saw the basket among the reeds and sent her maid to bring it. 6 When she opened it, she saw the child. He was crying, and she took pity on him. ‘This must be one of the Hebrews’ children,’ she said. 7 Then his sister said to Pharaoh’s daughter, ‘Shall I go and get you a nurse from the Hebrew women to nurse the child for you?’ 8 Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, ‘Yes.’ So the girl went and called the child’s mother. 9 Pharaoh’s daughter said to her, ‘Take this child and nurse it for me, and I will give you your wages.’ So the woman took the child and nursed it. 10 When the child grew up, she brought him to Pharaoh’s daughter, and she took him as her son. She named him Moses, ‘because’, she said, ‘I drew him out of the water.’

Colossians 3:12-17 

12 As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. 13 Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. 14 Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. 15 And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful. 16 Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God. 17 And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

John 19:25b-27

25b Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. 26 When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, here is your son.’ 27 Then he said to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother.’ And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.

Reflections

As individuals, and as a society, a complex relationship to mothers and motherhood.  Our own experience of motherhood and mothers means that today we bring thanks, sadness, worries, guilt, confusion and grief.  Today, knowing that we might not be able to see or hug the ones we love, is particularly painful. It is precisely because we love our mothers - and those we who’ve supported us or shown us care - that today we have to ‘let go’ of some of our ways of relating to each other.

The biblical narrative paints an honest and complex picture – not just of being a mum, but of the joy and cost of love, and of the purpose and potential of our own lives.  It reflects the gift of new life and the challenge of letting go.  We learn about love that is committed and passionate. It's a love that calls us into unexpected relationships, that is resilient and altruistic, that faces risk and uncertainty, that is consistent in bearing joys and pain.

The opening chapters of Exodus introduces us to realistic and resourceful women.  The bonds between mother and child, child and sister, lead to bold and imaginative action. In light of Pharaoh’s  decreed, Moses mother lets go in order to preserve his life.   It is Pharoah’s daughter who takes pity on a helpless baby. It’s Moses' sister who watches and waits so that she can negotiate a place for ongoing motherly love and nurture. Moses flourishes because of determined women - let go and found; separated yet nourished. He grows up to be a leader and liberator of his people. How might God work through us - our vulnerabilities, gifts and relationships?

God's love is made manifest to us in the risky and compassionate action of others as they reach out to us.  We all share in this generative activity of 'mothering': praying and consoling in heart break; delighting in and nurturing others; bringing passion and resourcefulness, imagination and commitment to our relationships. Such mothering transcends bonds of kinship and extends the tapestry of God's Kingdom.

Today honours those who have nurtured and supported us - mothers perhaps, but not exclusively so; perhaps we now care for them in frailty and age. When we can’t celebrate in the usual ways, we are reminded that mothering is a verb: it’s part of the character of God which we can reflect in our love of others, regardless of age/gender. This is in a sense what Paul is doing when he writes to the Colossians.

His letters resonate even more - as we rely on writing emails or letters, rather than face to face communication. We too are chosen, holy and beloved. We are to bear with one another in this unfamiliar territory of physical distancing and the protection of isolation; are social interactions are being rewritten. Yet there is continuity: be compassionate, kind and humble; show patience and forgiveness. We are still members of one body - we are still bound together in love.  As we share food at home, what are we grateful for today? Who might we want to reach out to this week?

This week I have drawn a lot on Romans 8 and the conviction that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. John draws us into that love in today’s Gospel. In powerlessness, Jesus reveals the truth of love.  

Jesus speaks to Mary and the beloved disciple: Behold your mother; behold your Son.  Mary is there with the beloved disciple, who takes her into his home; into his heart.  This brief exchange in the midst of agony and death could be seen as an act of practical kindness; a son securing his mother's future.

It is far more radical.

On the cross, Jesus draws humanity to himself; that is the work that glorifies his Father; now it is nearing completion.  This final gesture, brings Mary and John together as one with each and one with God: there is a new bond or covenant of love between them. This bond is life giving and reciprocal; it is the unity of love and communion that we share in too. 

We have broken bread together and received new life in the Eucharist;  but now we are called to live out that life in a dispersed way.  Yet we still break bread, in our our homes; remembering our wider family; remembering we are one; and that we are loved. 

One the coming weeks, we pray for the deepening of our kinship - our family life - in Christ. Day by day, what is God calling us to do in his name?

We who are God’s beloved children are united in Christ; in adversity, uncertainty and change, may the Spirit strengthen our corporate mothering in love, wisdom, encouragement and care.

Finally, a prayer that can be used with the blessing of or giving of flowers:  

        

        God of love,

passionate and strong,

tender and careful:

watch over us and hold us

all the days of our life;

through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

© Julie Gittoes 2020

Water and love

A sermon preached on the third Sunday in Lent - mindful of +Sarah's letter about loving our neighbour and strengthening networks of support amidst the impact of the Coronavirus. The texts were: Exodus 17:1-7, Romans 5:1-11, John 4:5-42

Image JGI/Jamie Grill/Getty

The cover of Friday’s New Statesman, like many newspapers and magazines, focused on the effect of the coronavirus; it carried one headline: ‘how the world is closing down’.  As guidelines and advice change daily, how do we as a Christian community seek to respond?

So much of our life together is bound up into habits of social proximity: our faith is rooted in the reality of the Word made flesh; of grace conveyed in what we touch and taste.  Without losing the power of that, we are having to inhabit our life together within a framework of social distancing. 

It’s that question that +Bishop Sarah addresses in her pastoral letter. She offers some practical advice for ongoing pastoral care, and we will be developing our own networks too. She ends: So with clean hands, and clear thoughts, let us love our neighbours with open hearts.

Today’s readings reflect on human concerns for living well in the midst of crisis, anxiety and exclusion. They speak of our vulnerability, yes; but also of our networks of interdependence. They express something of God’s faithfulness, and the way in which we can sustain fruitful modes of encounter which sustain our networks in the midst of isolation. 

Water and love flow through our readings. 

Love that reconciles.

Water that witnesses.

In Exodus we are told of collective fear and anxiety.  It’s an all too human scenario. People are tired, thirsty, irritable and quick to pick a quarrel. 

They’d been journeying by stages; perhaps there was a familiar routine of walking so many miles, pitching camp; some perhaps lighting fires, others seeking a water source. 

On this occasion, patience was wearing thin; the people wanted water immediately and their complaints escalate.  

Quarrelling over practicalities quickly became an expression of testing God’s faithfulness. 

As a leader, Moses cries out to the Lord with brutal honesty. 

He names the rising tensions which made him feel threatened; and in the face of his frustrations he takes responsibility - what am I to do with this people? And all this is couched in prayer.

Moses was a reluctant leader: perhaps that heightens his sense of dependance on God and on others in the fulfilment of the task entrusted to him. 

The answer to Moses’ lament is full of assurance: he’s reminded of God’s faithfulness from the flight from Egypt onwards. God will be with him - and will act through him.  

This time, he isn’t enabling escape through water, but the provision of water. And in all this he does not ‘go it alone’; he goes with the elders, with a company of wise and trusted people. 

Water flows. 

Water witnesses to God’s faithful love.

But the naming of place doesn’t gloss over the difficulties. 

Massah and Meribah:  Is the Lord among us or not?

That question takes us to the heart of human suffering, loneliness and fear.

And yet, being human, there are ways in which can continue to bring hope and compassion to others: it might mean reverting to old-school forms of communication; it might mean offering to collect groceries.  

When we are confronted with the tangible effects of panic and anxiety, we can collude with that; or we can be practical and determined in building up trust and reaching out to others. 

That begins by  trusting not in God - and supporting people in prayer when they are not with us; but also means trusting each other and building on the depth and quality of our relationships. 

When it seems as if our social fabric is fragile, we have an opportunity to strengthen it.  For we are a people made one by sharing in broken bread; bread that gives life to the world.

We are to show love to the bored and fearful by reaching out to them in practical acts of kindness; we are to show love to the vulnerable by being mindful of our responsibilities - good hygiene is an example of water preserving life and health. 

In keeping our distance, as appropriate, we are not distancing ourselves; the bond of friendship we have in Christ has capacity to be stretched, and the capacity to serve: sharing news and stories, dropping off shopping or posting letters. 

In washing our hands for the sake of health and service, we can give love to those who’re worried; so that anxiety will not triumph or overwhelm us.

Water flows in love.

Love that witnesses.

Love is answer to the  all that wreaks havoc in our lives. Water flows into action; resilience flows through networks of care. Anxiety is turned to compassion; fear to witness; darkness to light.  

Water flows. 

Water witnesses to love.

Today we draw near to an ancient well, in the glare of the midday sun, and there we hear of living water.

It is a moment of social distancing: a woman who is on the margins of social life.

Water offered, received and welling up.

John draws us into an encounter which is full of depth and intensity; vulnerability and disclosure. 

The Samaritan woman is part of a minority group. She was seen as spiritually ‘other,  politically powerless, and socially marginalised. Her identity was marked by fragmented relationships; by rejection, failure and fragile self-image. Alone, she goes to the well.

She needs water.

She longs for love.

Chester Cathedral 

‘Give me a drink’, say Jesus. He thirsts. He thirsts for God’s people to come together. He reaches out across the multiple divisions named by the woman herself. 

He asks for water.

He embodies love.

We hear a conversation unfold: a relationship is created which restores trust, goodness and esteem. Perhaps as Jesus holds her gaze, shame becomes dignity. 

Water drawn with a bucket. Thirst is quenched in practical compassion.

This is not enough: out attention shifts towards a deeper well. The wellspring of living water. Water with the power to sustain us. It’s an expression of everlasting life. It cannot be contained. Through the power of the Spirit it wells up in us. 

Jesus reveals that if we drink from the fountain of God’s love and compassion, we too become a source of love and compassion. He offers living water. He reveals himself as God with us: ‘I am he’ he says; I am the one is was and is and is to come. I am: the creator of all things, the Word made flesh, the life giving Spirit. 

The moment is disrupted by the disciples blundering in with their own preoccupations and questions. The moment breaks into a fresh movement of witness. ‘Come and see’ says the woman.

Her empty water jar is left behind because she is already living out of the deep well of living water. Her heart is full. She is desperate to share with others what she has received.

Water flows.

Love is revealed.

Witness wells up.

And what of us?

Like the people of Israel, we live with our own narratives of anxiety: when solutions aren’t obvious; when it feels as if disaster has struck; when are plans are disrupted.

Yet like Moses, love must be expressed in personal prayer the wise leadership of a community.  We are are called into creative and determined acts of trust and care which strengthen community.

Like the woman at the well, we experience hopes and concerns: when we feel excluded and ignored; when relationships are broken; when we get chance to explore the meaning of life and faith; when we discover our calling to love and witness. 

Yet each of us, as witnesses, become agents of reconciliation speaking joyfully of the life and forgiveness we’ve received. 

Water. Love. Witness. 

Like Paul, we are to speak of grace and faith; peace and glory. He speaks of suffering, endurance, character and hope - not to justify any form of human cruelty, hatred or violence, but to remind us that these to no have the last word. Love is the last word. Love revealed in Jesus’ life, death and resurrection; love which restores us, restores broken and sinful humanity.

This sacred place is where we encounter Christ that our lives also be transformed by the holy and healing Spirit. May we who’ve received new life in waters of baptism, witness to God restoring all things in Christ. May God bless our labours at home, amongst colleagues, in our communities.

Water and love flow through our readings today.

Reconciling love.

Loving witness.

Let us pray:

Keep us, good Lord,

under the shadow of your mercy,

in this time of uncertainty and distress.

Sustain and support the anxious and fearful,

and lift up all who are brought low;

that we may rejoice in your comfort

knowing that nothing can separate us from your love

in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

© Julie Gittoes