Aug 13 | Retreat Diary: Wednesday
HOLY READING
From The Sacred Mirror: The seventh reading was the Samaritan woman at the well. I can’t escape this story on this retreat! We all meet Jesus at the well, because we all have wells: our jobs, our positions, our roles. He meets us where we are and says, “Give me a drink.” Amazing! We ask Jesus how he, the king of angels, can speak to us in our day-to-day lives, asking to be nourished from our daily work. He answers, “If you knew who was speaking to you…” He challenges us where we are, and challenges the meagre water we draw. Eventually, after he sees into the Samaritan woman – into us – intimately, she (we) manages to divert him, speaking of “appropriate” places to worship. It won’t matter in the end.
Herbie mentions the importance of space and language to worship, but reminds us that they are means, not ends. God dwells far beyond, and yet doesn’t, because the Samaritan woman then says, “I know the Messiah will come,” but Jesus is with her – right where she is, there and then, here and now.
The eighth reading was the centurion with the dying servant. I wrote my sermon for Homiletics class on this story! Our lives are full of god-fearers, people searching for a meaning beyond the many gods and myths of our day – and do not doubt that we still live in a world of gods and myths. I will never forget my constructive theology professor Richard Topping saying, “We still believe in myths in this day and age. After all, we believe that buying a Lexus will make us happy.” Herbie writes, “A former faith died, yet the pain and complexity of the contemporary world creates a longing for a view of reality that will provide meaning and hope. Such are modern god-fearers. Now, as then, there sit among the god-fearers some magnificent human beings, repelled and yet haunted by God.” (65)
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I have found it really awesome to cultivate a friendship in total silence! There’s a lady doing a silent retreat here at the same time as me to whom I am friendly, and she to me, and yet neither of us has spoken a word to one another. We meet most often in the kitchen, and she offers me oatmeal and vegetables; I offered her carrots. We smile at each other.
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Today at our 5pm worship time we talked about water, and how most people here on the island have water restrictions at this time of year. It made me think of swimming in the ocean and standing in the rain on the hill of Tara in Ireland when I was 16 years old.
The lady leading worship read from a meditation on wells and once again we heard the story of the Samaritan woman. I’ve heard that story three times since coming here, which suggests to me that there is something I should listen for. At any rate, the worship leader read from this meditation about how people can be wells – wells for us, and we for others. I was just thinking of how my New Testament professor would say this meditation missed the point of the reading (heh heh) when these glorious few phrases came up – so much that I used them on the cruciform beads during my first pass of the rosary:
If you do not find [a well], maybe no-one will, and if you do not be one, maybe no-one will find you.
Who is looking for me? Is it a thirsty traveller? Is it a very special, hidden thirsty traveller, who offers more and better water? How can I dare to be such a well? I would say I didn’t ask to be one, but it’s a ridiculous sentence. A cardinal does not ask to be red. Was I made that way – to be a well?
After CPE, I think there’s no way I can pretend not to know the answer. I have been a well, therefore I am one. I may not always be one, but sometimes I am, and what well is silly enough to pretend it isn’t one? Like a stone or a mountain it does not pretend. It almost becomes ridiculous to talk about “vocation” in such a circumstance. It is what I am. And sometimes wells run dry. Thankfully, unlike most wells, I have an advantage: I can run toward rain, and I can dig deeper.
Amen.
-Clarity