Blessed be God.
Praise be to Jesus Christ forever and ever. Amen.
Come, Holy Spirit. Fill us with joy.
Set our hearts ablaze with Your presence.
I’ve been fighting my weight for years—
always trying to diet,
always trying to lose a few pounds.
And every doctor, every nutritionist
says the same thing:
stay hydrated.
Drink water.
Keep drinking water.
But here’s the strange thing—
sometimes I don’t feel thirsty.
I don’t notice it.
I don’t think about it.
And yet my body is thirsty.
It needs water to live,
to move,
to function.
Whether I feel it or not,
the thirst is real.
And that is exactly where today’s readings take us:
to the place of thirst.
Israel is thirsty in the desert.
The Samaritan woman is thirsty at the well.
And if we’re honest…
we are thirsty too.
Not just for water,
but for peace…
for belonging…
for forgiveness…
for direction…
for love that lasts.
And Scripture reveals something we’d rather not admit:
our thirst exposes our hearts.
When Israel thirsts, fear rises up.
They grumble,
they blame,
they question God’s presence:
“Is the Lord in our midst or not?”
When the Samaritan woman thirsts,
her wounds rise up.
Her shame, her history, her loneliness—
everything she tries to hide—
sits right there beside the well.
And when we thirst,
whatever is unsettled in us
comes to the surface too.
The empty places.
The hidden places.
The places we don’t want God to see.
But here is the good news—
God enters the place of thirst to reveal Himself.
In Exodus,
He stands on the rock
and lets life flow from it.
In the Gospel,
Jesus sits on the edge of a well—
the edge of a woman’s pain—
and offers living water.
In Romans,
Paul tells us
God pours His love into our hearts
through the Holy Spirit.
God does not wait for us to be strong.
He does not wait for us to be perfect.
He comes right into the place
where we are most thirsty.
And He asks one question—
the same question in every reading:
“Will you trust Me with your thirst—
the real one?”
Not the polite thirst.
Not the manageable thirst.
The deep one.
The one we keep returning
to the same old wells
to satisfy.
Jesus looks at the Samaritan woman—
and at us—
and says:
“Will you let Me meet you there?”
Because when we finally let Him into that place…
when we stop hiding…
when we stop pretending we’re fine…
that is where the living water begins to flow.
The woman leaves her water jar behind—
the symbol of all the ways
she tried to fill herself—
because she has finally met
the One who can satisfy her.
And so today, in this Eucharist,
Jesus comes again
to the well of your heart.
He knows your thirst.
He knows what rises up
when you feel empty.
And He is not afraid of it.
He simply asks:
“Will you trust Me with your thirst?
Will you let Me meet you there?”
May we have the courage to say yes.
Be good.
Be holy.
Bring the good news of Christ
to those who thirst—
by the way you live your life
and the way you love one another.
Praise be to Jesus Christ forever and ever. Amen.
Prayer
Lord Jesus,
Meet me in the place where I thirst.
Let Your living water flow through what is dry in me.
Wash away my fear and quiet every hidden wound.
Stand beside the well of my heart
and speak Your peace.
Pour Your Spirit into the emptiness I try to fill alone.
Teach me to trust You
with the thirst I cannot name.
Satisfy me with the love that never runs dry.
Make my life a witness to Your mercy
for all who thirst.
Amen
