Encountering the Living Water

By Sister Mary Sarah Macht, RSM, MSN, FNP-BC

A woman walks along a hot, dusty road. She is thirsty. Walking out from her town, up the hill to draw water again, is a drudgery. As she hears, “Give me a drink,” she focuses on the man before her, surprised to find anyone here at this time of the day. She questions how he can ask her for the drink. And He says:

If you knew the gift of God
and who is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’
you would have asked him
and he would have given you living water.[i]

In the story of the Samaritan woman at the well, we read of this beautiful encounter with Jesus. This is the reading used for the Third Sunday of Lent for the Mass with those planning to enter the Church at Easter.

Song of the Brightness of Water

Pope Saint John Paul II, before his pontificate, wrote a poem called Song of the Brightness of Water. This is a reading for reflection and meditation as we continue through Lent.

Looking into the well at Sichar

Look now at the silver scales in the water

where the depth trembles

like the retina of an eye recording an image

With the broad leaves’ reflection

touching your face

water washes tiredness around her eyes.

Still far from spring.

Tired eyes are the sign

that the night’s dark waters

flow through words into prayer.

(Consider how arid, arid are souls.)

The light from the well pulsates with tears:

a gust of dreams,

passers-by think, brought them down.

The well sparkles with leaves that leap

to your eyes. Reflected green

glints round your face

in the shimmering depth.

How far to the spring?

Multitudes tremble in you, transfixed

by the light of your words

as eyes by the brightness of water.

You know them in weariness. You know them in light.

Words spoken by the woman at the well, on departing

From this moment my ignorance

closes behind me like the door

through which you entered, recognizing

all I do not know.

And through me you led many people in silence,

many roads, and the turmoil of the streets.

The Samaritan woman

It joined us together, the well;

the well led me into you.

No one between us but light

deep in the well, the pupil of the eye

set in an orbit of stones.

Within your eyes, I,

drawn by the well,

am enclosed.

The Samaritan woman meditates

I–yes I–conscious then of my awakening

as a man in a stream, aware of his image,

is suddenly raised from the mirror and brought

to himself, holding his breath and amazement,

swaying over his light

I was raised–how, I do not know. Yet conscious

then of myself, myself before,

now divided–only by waking?

The wall opens. I often past through this wall

not knowing that it divided

me from myself.

Yes, I am raised. Everything seems as before:

The mules with their burdens

Slithering down the hill.

The world goes up, falls down

into houses carried through deep blue hair

(In vain, in vain).

Lamps light up again in the midst of awaited stars.

The burden inside that you took me–I will sense

slowly, and measure with weariness

through seasons of struggle, trying to bring out

a small particle of that simple harmony

which you possess without strain

beyond measure.

Straining you planted

a particle in me. But this I know:

the inner burden you took away

is not hung in the void.

Scales will never tell its weight

Or differentiate.

This undifferentiated state

I weigh and I am light again.

A flame rescued from dry wood

has no weight in its luminous flight

yet lifts the heavy lid of night.

Song of the brightness of water

From this depth–I came only to draw water

in the jug–so long ago, this brightness

still clings to my eyes–the perception I found,

and so much empty space, my own,

reflected in the well.

Yet it is good. I can never take all of you

into me. Stay than as a mirror in the well.

Leaves and flowers remain, and each astonished gaze

brings them down

to my eyes transfixed more by light

than by sorrow.[ii]

Let us pray with the Preface for the Mass for the disposition to ever be more open to receive the gift of faith. “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.”[iii]

Want to read more?

For the third Sunday of Lent, the Office of Readings of the Liturgy of the Hours contains a magnificent reading from a treatise on John by Saint Augustine.[iv]

The one who was asking for a drink of water was thirsting for her faith

From a treatise on John by Saint Augustine, bishop

SECOND READING From a treatise on John by Saint Augustine, bishop (Tract. 15, 10-12, 16-17: CCL 36, 154-156) A Samaritan woman came to draw water A woman came. She is a symbol of the Church not yet made righteous. Righteousness follows from the conversation. She came in ignorance, she found Christ, and he enters into conversation with her. Let us see what it is about, let us see why a Samaritan woman came to draw water. The Samaritans did not form part of the Jewish people: they were foreigners. The fact that she came from a foreign people is part of the symbolic meaning, for she is a symbol of the Church. The Church was to come from the Gentiles, of a different race from the Jews. We must then recognise ourselves in her words and in her person, and with her give our own thanks to God. She was a symbol, not the reality; she foreshadowed the reality, and the reality came to be. She found faith in Christ, who was using her as a symbol to teach us what was to come. She came then to draw water. She had simply come to draw water; in the normal way of man or woman. Jesus says to her: Give me water to drink. For his disciples had gone to the city to buy food. The Samaritan woman therefore says to him: How is it that you, though a Jew, ask me for water to drink, though I am a Samaritan woman? For Jews have nothing to do with Samaritans. The Samaritans were foreigners; Jews never used their utensils. The woman was carrying a pail for drawing water. She was astonished that a Jew should ask her for a drink of water, a thing that Jews would not do. But the one who was asking for a drink of water was thirsting for her faith. Listen now and learn who it is that asks for a drink. Jesus answered her and said: If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, “Give me a drink”, perhaps you might have asked him and he would have given you living water. He asks for a drink, and he promises a drink. He is in need, as one hoping to receive, yet he is rich, as one about to satisfy the thirst of others. He says: If you knew the gift of God. The gift of God is the Holy Spirit. But he is still using veiled language as he speaks to the woman and gradually enters into her heart. Or is he already teaching her? What could be more gentle and kind than the encouragement he gives? If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, “Give me a drink”, perhaps you might ask and he would give you living water. What is this water that he will give if not the water spoken of in Scripture: With you is the fountain of life? How can those feel thirst who will drink deeply from the abundance in your house? He was promising the Holy Spirit in satisfying abundance. She did not yet understand. In her failure to grasp his meaning, what was her reply? The woman says to him: Master, give me this drink, so that I may feel no thirst or come here to draw water. Her need forced her to this labor, her weakness shrank from it. If only she could hear those words: Come to me, all who labor and are burdened, and I will refresh you. Jesus was saying this to her, so that her labors might be at an end; but she was not yet able to understand.

Saint Augustine | Tractate 15 (John 4:1-42)

Image Credit:

“Christus Und Die Samariterin Am Brunnen | Christ and the Samaritan Woman at the Well c. 1796.” WikiMedia Commons. Accessed March 7, 2021. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Angelika_Kauffmann_-_Christus_und_die_Samariterin_am_Brunnen_-1796.jpeg.

[i] John 4:10

[ii] Saint John Paul II. “Song of the Brightness of Water.” Essay. In Easter Vigil and Other Poems, translated by Jerzy Peterkiewicz, 9–15. Roma, Italia: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1979.

[iii] “Mass Propers for Lent: THIRD SUNDAY OF LENT: Preface: The Samaritan Woman.” Mass Propers for Lent. Accessed March 7, 2021. http://www.liturgies.net/Liturgies/Catholic/roman_missal/lentmass.htm#sunday3.

[iv] “Office of Readings | Third Sunday of Lent, Reading II: From a Treatise on John by St Augustine: A Samaritan Woman Came to Draw Water.” Universalis. Accessed March 7, 2021. https://universalis.com/readings.htm.

Third Sunday of Lent | Posted March 15, 2021

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