Read: John 9:1-41

In contemplating this passage, I’m reflexively drawn to the response of the Pharisees to the miracle that Jesus has performed. The most obvious takeaway is that while the humble blind man suffered from a physical impairment, the elite are spiritually blind. And in their case, unlike the blind man, the affliction is willful. The truth of what Jesus has done, and the power to which that act speaks, is in front of their faces, and the blind man who they interrogate has a pretty snarky response to their dismissal of it as 1st Century “fake news,” along with their skepticism regarding Jesus’ origin.

“Why, this is a marvel! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but if anyone is a worshiper of God and does His will, God listens to him. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a man born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.”

On the subject of healing and disability, there is another notable takeaway from this passage: Jesus’ proclamation that rather than taking a “blame the victim” attitude toward any who suffer a “disability,” we should instead recognize, as he does, “that the works of God might be manifest in him.” Otherwise, we risk the blindness of the Pharisees.

Lord, take away my blindness in failing to recognize you in my brothers and sisters, in whatever place or condition I might find them, and let me cleanse myself of my sins towards them. Amen.
-Michael Boss

Read: John 9:1-41

Often in situations of severe illness, faith feels far from us. At those times, we need a friend who puts a hand on our shoulder and says “That’s okay. Right now we’ll believe for you.” Hope and love come together to buttress us when faith feels far from us. Love from others empowers and gives us strength. We can dare to hope, and that hope fills deep in our souls so that we know, somehow, some way, “all things work together for good.” And, meanwhile, our fellow Christians will stand with us. Be that hand on the shoulder.
-Barb Cheyney

Read: John 4:5-42

“… how can you (Jesus) ask me for a drink?”

Our focus this year is on community.

I don’t like arrogant people. I don’t like people whose noses are stuck so high in the air they risk drowning when it rains. I don’t like people who think they’re better than others because of the color of their skin, the size of their bank accounts (cars, or homes), or the purity of their pedigrees.

I don’t like arrogant people, but I can’t throw stones for I are one [sic], too. We humans can’t help it. Our survival depended, historically (and prehistorically, too) on deciding who was in and who was out, who got to share in the tribe’s provisions and who didn’t. Many of our likes, dislikes, and decisions arise from deep beneath the surface of our lives. They are so ingrained in us that we are often unaware of them. Jesus knows. Jesus gets us. He could condemn us for our bigotry; he could join us in our fear-and-loathing of one another. But instead, he enters into dialogue with those who gather at the well.

The woman’s shame is revealed by the light of the midday sun, when the righteous have come and gone, and only now is it safe for sinners to show themselves. “I’m thirsty,” says Jesus. “I’m not afraid of catching cooties from you, no matter who you are.” Shame walls the woman off from Jesus, but Jesus dismantles the wall, ever the consummate carpenter. He knows a thing or two about walls. Perhaps he knows a thing or two about shame because he was, himself (possibly) an object of shame in his own family, his own community. Shame is toxic. What Jesus seeks, what he wants, is water. “Blessed are those who hunger … who thirst … they shall be satisfied.”

Shame taints. I’m pleased as punch to be part of a community that seeks to understand, that seeks to serve, that seeks to be a bucket of water in a dry and barren land.

Let us pray. Lord, help me to draw water for those who thirst, as if for you, yourself. Do not let me build a wall around this well, but bring a rope and bucket that others may drink from One who so freely shares this water of life with us and them, sinners though we are. Amen.
–Fr. Keith Axberg

Read: John 4:5-42

I remember a situation in my former husband Jon’s parish in Montana where the daughter of a parishioner (P) got pregnant out of wedlock. Nobody said anything judgy to P’s face, but the pearl-clutching and cattiness abounded in conversations where she was not present. I remember being forced to listen to it from our church treasurer (D) one day when she was holding me hostage in her quilting studio while Jon was meeting with her husband elsewhere (I wish I was kidding), and it was taking all of my self-control not to respond with a remark like “how about saying ‘congratulations on your grandchild’ and shutting your mouth, D.” When P’s grandchild was eventually born, Jon caught fire for allowing the baby to be baptized in the church because the pearl clutchers were afraid that “people” would think we condoned premarital sex. Fifteen years later, I am *STILL* rolling my eyes over this.

This and other situations made me understand why the woman at the well was out there gathering water in the heat of the noontime sun. If the women of her village were anything like the pearl clutchers in Jon’s parish, I would not want to be around them either! What I have taken away from her encounter with Jesus is how he very patiently laid out that He knew everything about her, including her multiple husbands, and he still considered her worthy of His attention. It was scandalous for a man to be speaking to a woman one-on-one in those days, and Jesus risked it to have that conversation.

One of the things the pearl clutchers did was make me very aware of the messages that were being sent to the teenage girls in the parish, and I made a concerted effort to have a good rapport with them so that they would know that they had someone who was willing to listen to them. Asking them about what they were reading and going to their sporting events meant that they started talking to me about their lives, and some of the resulting conversations were ones that they really did need to have with a trusted adult. Making the effort to know them and listen to them ended up being life-changing for them and for me.

God, we thank you for opportunities to listen without judgment and for people who make us feel safe. Amen.
-Jen McCabe