3 Lent

March 8, 2026

 

John 4.5-42 

 

+ In our very long Gospel reading, we find Jesus in conversation with this Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well.

 

More often than not, when we encounter a story like this in scripture, we don’t think about what happened to some of these people following their experience with Jesus.

 

Every so often, it might not hurt to ask ourselves: what happened to this woman at the well?

 

Did she heed the words of Jesus to her, or did she go on in her old lifestyle?

 

We know she shared the news with other Samaritans.

 

But did she reform her life?

 

Well, there are actually some interesting stories about what might have happened to this Samaritan woman.

 

What many Western Christians don’t know—and probably have never given a second thought to—is the fact that this Samaritan woman is revered now by the Eastern Church.

 

They have actually given her a name.

 

Traditionally, she is known now as St. Photini.

 

According to tradition, the belief is that St. Photini did, in fact, take Jesus’s words to heart.

 

The story goes that she, along with five of her sisters, were baptized and that, following Jesus’s death, she went out to proclaim the Gospel.

 

She was preaching the Gospel in Rome when the Emperor Nero began his persecution of Christians.

 

She confronted the Emperor with her faith in and love for Christ, which simply enraged him.

 

He had her imprisoned and tortured, but would not allow her to die.

 

One night, as she lay in prison, begging for God to allow her to die, Jesus appeared to her just as he had at Jacob’s well.

 

As he stood above her, he offered her the waters of everlasting life.

 

The vision filled her with such joy, that, a few days later, she died singing her praises to God.

 

In the Orthodox Church, she is referred to as “equal to the Apostles,” which is saying a lot.

 

St. Mary Magdalene is also considered “equal to the apostles.”

 

Of course, if you have ever had to endure my rant about that designation at our Wednesday night Eucharist when we commemorate St. Mary Magdalene you will hear me go off on why we don’t just name her an apostle, since she was more of an apostle than the actual apostles in my opinion. But. . .

 

There is a wonderful hymn that the Eastern Church sings to St. Photini

 

Illuminated by the Holy Spirit, All-Glorious One,

From Christ the Saviour you drank the water of salvation.

With open hand you give it to those who thirst.

Great-Martyr Photini, Equal-to-the-Apostles,

Pray to Christ for the salvation of our souls.

 

Her feast day is celebrated in the Orthodox Church on February 26.

 

And yes the Episcopal Church also commemorates her now, also on February 26 in our calendar of saints.

 

But, what is more important is the message that is here for all of us.

 

Jesus talks about a “living water.”

 

What is this living water Jesus speaks of?

 

Well, if we read this scripture closely we see that, despite popular pious tradition, Jesus at no point says that HE is the Living Water.

 

But rather that he comes to give this Living Water.

 

So, what is it that he offers this woman at the well?

 

Well, we actually get our answer in another later passage from the Gospel of John.

 

In John chapter 7, it is made clear that this Living Water is the Spirit of God within Jesus.

 

The Living Water that flows so abundantly, so profusely, is the very Spirit of God.

 

Of course because he is the Messiah, the Christ, as he tells this woman he is, he has this Spirit within him.

 

Christ or Messiah means “anoi8nted one.”

 

And that means anointed by God’s Spirit.  

 

And, this is important, when as Jesus sits with the woman at the well, he offers not only her that water of life, this Spirit of the living God—he offers it to us as well.

 

And we, in turn, like her, must “with open hand” give it “to those who thirst.”

 

To truly understand the meaning of water here, though we have to gently remind ourselves of the land in which this story is taking place.

 

Palestine was and is a dry and arid land.

 

And in Jesus’ day, water was not as accessible as we take for granted these days.

 

It came from wells that sometimes weren’t in close proximity to one’s home.

 

There was certainly no in-door plumbing.

 

The water that came from those wells was not the clean and filtered water we enjoy now, that we drink from fancy bottles.

 

They didn’t have refrigeration; they wouldn’t have understood what an ice cube was—so often the water they drank was lukewarm at best.

 

And sometimes it was polluted.

 

People got sick and died from drinking it.

 

Which is why people drank alcohol.

 

But despite all of that, water was essential.

 

One died without water in that arid land.

 

Water meant life.

 

In that world, people truly understood thirst.

 

They thirsted truly for water.

 

And so we have this issue of water in a story in which Jesus confronts this woman—who is obviously and truly thirsty.

 

Thirsty for water, yes, but—as we learn—she is obviously thirsty also for more.

 

She is thirsty as well for love, for security, for stability, all of which she does not have.

 

Now, we have to be fair to her.

 

For a woman to be without a man in her day would have meant that she would be without security, without a home, without anything.

 

A woman at that time was defined by the men in her life—her husband or father or son.

 

And so, widowed as many times as she was, she was desperate to find some reason and purpose in her life through the men in her life.

 

This woman is truly a broken person.

 

She is thirsty.

 

Thirsty for the water she is drawing from the well and thirsty for more than life and her society has given her.

 

In a sense, we can find much to relate to in this woman.

 

We too are broken people, as you have heard me preach again and again during this season of Lent so far.

 

We too are thirsty.

 

As broken people, we are thirsty for relationships, for money, for food, for alcohol, for anything to fill that empty parched feeling within our broken selves.

 

And as broken people, we find that as much as we try to quench that thirst, it all seems to run right out of us.

 

We find that we will never be quenched until we drink of that cool, clean water which will fill us where we need to be filled.

 

That cool, clean Water is of course the Spirit of Life.

 

God’s Spirit is the Water of which we drink to be truly filled.

 

It is the Water that will become in us “a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”

 

What better image to take with us in these long, spiritually thirsty days of Lent?

 

As we journey through the desert of Lent toward Holy Week, toward the darkness and violence of Good Friday, what better image can we cling to?

 

Because that is what we are doing during Lent.

 

We are traveling through the desert.

 

We are walking through the arid wasteland of our own lives.

 

We are journeying toward the Cross and toward the destruction, thirst, pain and death it brings.

 

We are wandering toward that tomb, that dark, dank place.

 

We are that woman at the well—parched and alone, thirsting for something more.

 

In Lent, we bring ourselves—our fractured, shattered, uncertain, frightened, insecure selves—to the well, expecting only for a temporary quenching.

 

But we know what awaits us.

 

We know that if we, like the Samaritan woman, is patient, we too will be given what we long for.

 

So, let us drink fully of the Living Water of God’s Spirit that is offered to us there.

 

Let us drink deeply of God’s Spirit, who is offered to us fully and completely.

 

And in that Water, we will find all that we desire.

 

Our insecurities will be washed away.

 

Our wounds will be cleaned and healed.

 

Everything we have done or failed to do will be made right.

 

Our brokenness will be made whole.

 

We will be remade into saints.

 

That thirst that drives us and nags at us and gnaws at us, that drives us to drink from places where we should not be drinking, will finally—once and for all—be quenched.

 

And in that Living Water we will find Life—that Life that Jesus the Messiah, the Christ brings us.

 

That life we find in those Living Waters is a Life without death or suffering or want.

 

All we have to do is say, “Give me some of that water.”

 

All we have to say is “give me the Spirit of the living God.”

 

And it will be given to us.

 

And those of us who drink of that water will never again be thirsty.

2 Lent

 

March 1, 2026

 

Genesis 12:1-4a; John 3.1-7

 

+ As you can all feel and sense right now, it is an exciting time in the Episcopal Diocese of North Dakota.

 

In just a few weeks time, we will be consecrating a new Bishop.

 

And as that happens, we are all full of hope and anticipation for the future of our diocese.

 

For those of us who have been on this journey in the past---for those of us who have experiences multiple bishops over the years, our hope and anticipation is always a bit tempered.

 

We know better than to place too much hope in one person.

 

We know better than to think that one person will be able to come in and change everything that will please all of us.

 

And that is very important for all of us to remember and be mindful of, especially as we welcome Bishop Shay.

 

But, it is so vitally important to remind ourselves:

 

The ministry of the Church is not just about a bishop.

 

Or priests.

 

Or deacons.

 

Ministry is also lay people, and lay leaders.

 

The Church is made up of all of us as ministers.

 

We are all ministers of the Church.

 

Not just Bishop-elect Shay.

 

Not just Deacon John or Deacon Suzanne.

 

Not just me.

 

Each of you are doing ministry in your own ways as well.

 

But don’t take my word for it.

 

Let’s take a look at our trusty Catechism.

 

Let’s take out our Books of Common Prayer and let’s take a look way in the back.

 

We’re going to page 855

 

And there, under the section called “The Ministry,” we find this:

 

 

The Ministry

Q.	Who are the ministers of the Church?
A.	The ministers of the Church are lay persons [notice that lay persons are listed first[ , bishops, priests, and deacons.
Q.	What is the ministry of the laity?
A.	The ministry of lay persons is to represent Christ and his Church; to bear witness to him wherever they may be; and, according to the gifts given them, to carry on Christ's work of reconciliation in the world; and to take their place in the life, worship, and governance of the Church.
	Then we get questions on the ministries of Bishops, Priests and Deacon.   Finally, we get this question:
Q.	What is the duty of all Christians?
A.	The duty of all Christians is to follow Christ; to come together week by week for corporate worship; and to work, pray, and give for the spread of the kingdom of God.

 

So, when we look long and hard at what ministry is, we need to remember something.

 

Our ministry together is not just in what we do.

 

It is in who we are.

 

Our ministry is often a ministry of who we are.

 

Of our personalities.

 

Of bearing witness

 

Of representing Christ---by not only our words, but also by our actions as well.

 

Of the person that God has created, even in our very brokenness.

 

It’s all bound up very tightly together.

 

And if each of us listens, if each of strains our spiritual ears and hearts toward God, we can hear that calling, deep in our hearts.

 

We can find that God is calling us to the ministry of our day-to-day lives, the ministry of the person God has formed us to be, the ministry to serve others in the way God sees fit.

 

In our reading from the Hebrew Bible this morning, we find a clear call from God to Abram.

 

“Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to a land that I will show you.”

 

Essentially this is the call to all of us who are in ministry.

 

God calls to us wherever we may be and when that happens, we must heed that call.

 

We must step out from our comfortable places, and we must step out into our service to others even if that means going to those people in strange and alien places.

 

And sometimes when we step into those uncomfortable places, we are made all the more aware of our own brokenness—we become even more vulnerable.

 

But that’s just a simple fact in ministry: when God calls, God calls heedless of our brokenness.

 

In fact, God calls us knowing full well our brokenness.

 

And—I hope this isn’t news to anyone here this morning—God uses our brokenness.

 

God can truly work through our brokenness and use our fractured selves in reaching out to other fractured people.

 

For too many people our brokenness divides us.

 

It separates us.

 

It isolates us.

 

It prevents us from moving forward in our lives and in ministries.

 

I see this all the time in the world and in the Church.

 

Our brokenness can truly become a kind of self-condemnation.

 

It becomes the open wound we must carry with us—allowed by us to stink and fester.

 

But when we can use our brokenness to reach out in love, when we allow God to use our brokenness, it is no longer a curse and a condemnation.

 

Our brokenness becomes a fruitful means for ministry.

 

It becomes a means for renewal and rebirth.

 

It becomes the basis for ministry—for reaching out and helping those who are also broken and in need around us.

 

In our Gospel reading for today we get that all-too-familiar bit of scripture.

 

“For God so loved the world that [God] gave [God’s] only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.”

 

How many times have heard this scripture bantered about?

 

We have heard that scripture so often in our lives, we almost don’t realize what it’s really saying.

 

I actually love preaching on this scripture.

 

I love to for one simple reason:

 

The message is so basic, so straightforward.

 

And that simple messsage has gotten lost over time.

 

God so loved the world---

 

The world here is you.

 

The world here is me.

 

The world here is us.

 

God so loved us.

 

God loves us.

 

Plain and simple. 

 

How do we respond to that love?

 

We respond to it by following the One whom God has given to us—Jesus. 

 

And if we do, Jesus will lead us to eternal life, to the same eternal life he himself received from God.

 

Each of us is called.

 

Each of us has been issued a call from God to serve.

 

It might not have been a dramatic calling—an overwhelming sense of the Presence of God in our lives that motivates us to go and follow Jesus.

 

But each Sunday we receive the invitation.

 

Each time we gather at this altar to celebrate the Eucharist, we are, essentially, called to then go out, refreshed and renewed in our broken selves by this broken Body of Jesus, to serve the broken people of God.

 

We are called to go out and minister, not only by preaching and proclaiming with words, but by who we are, by our very lives and examples.

 

So, let us heed the call of God.

 

Let us do as Abram did in our reading from Genesis did today.

 

“Abram went, as the Lord told him…”

 

Let us, as well, go as God has told us.

 

Let us go knowing full well that heeding God’s call and doing what God calls us to do may mean leaving our country and our kindred and our house—in essence, everything we find comfortable and safe—and going to a foreign place—a place that may be frightening.

 

And going will be doubly frightening when we know we go as imperfect human beings—as people broken and vulnerable.

 

But let us also go sure in our calling from God.

 

Let us go sure that God has blessed each of us, even in our brokenness.

 

Let us go knowing that God loves us, because we too love.

 

Let us go knowing that God will use the cracks and fractures within us, as always, for good.

 

And let us go knowing God will make us whole again in our eternal life.

 

God will make us a blessing to others and God will “bless those who bless us.”

 

What more can we possibly ask of the ministry God has called us 

I Lent

 

February 22, 2026

 Gen. 2.15-17; 3.1-7; Matthew 4.1-11

 

+ Since we’re now well into Lent, let’s do a little Lenten discipline exercise, shall we?

 

I want you to think about something for a moment.

 

I want you to take a moment, right now, and think about something I imagine none of us want to think about.

 

Things like sin and repentance and temptation.

 

But, hey, it’s Lent.

 

This whole season is about thinking about things we don’t normally want to think about.

 

This morning, right now, I want you to think about someone in your life you knew to be a bully.

 

Now I know.

 

You’re immediately probably going to think instantly of a certain someone who kind of dominates our lives right now.

 

But I want you to think about someone in your own life who you viewed or currently view as a bully.

 

Someone maybe in junior high or high school.

 

Maybe a sibling.

 

Or a spouse. Or ex-spouse.

 

Maybe a parent.

 

Or a boss.

 

Or just a neighbor or a guy at the bar or a Karen on the street or at a restaurant.

 

Or maybe it was a priest.

 

Or a Bishop.

 

Think about that person.

 

And think about not only what emotions thinking about that person causes in you right now, but also think about how you responded to that person.

 

How did you respond?

 

Did you respond in anger?

 

Did you ignore them?

 

Did you avoid them?

 

Did you give into your fear?

 

Or did you stand up to them?

 

There’s no right or wrong way to respond.

 

But it is interesting what emotions thinking about such things cause within us.

 

Bullies are a part of our lives, whether we want them to be or not.

 

They are manipulative.

 

They are thuggish.

 

They can often be violent—not only in deeds, but also in words.

 

They wreak havoc.

 

They disrupt and cause upheaval.

 

They are chaos personified.

 

In our Gospel for today, we find a big bully.

 

Satan.

 

He’s being manipulative.

 

He’s being smooth.

 

And he’s being a bully.

 

Or trying to anyway.

 

And he’s trying to bully Jesus.

 

He’s trying to coerce and manipulate Jesus, to make him give up his Messiahship, to give up his tole as God’s Son.

 

When Satan tempts Jesus in the wilderness, he tries to appeal to Jesus’ pride.

 

He knows that Jesus knows he is exactly who is.

 

Satan knows that Jesus truly does have the power to reign and rule, that he has all the power in the world, given to him by God.

 

And Satan further knows that if he could harness that power for himself—for evil—then he will have that power as well.

 

I think what’s really interesting about this story is not so much what it says about Jesus, but what it reveals about Satan.

 Let’s be clear, the Devil in this story is a bully, plain and simple.

 And bullies don’t care about others.

 Satan sure does not care about Jesus.

 In fact, Satan resents Jesus.

 He despises him.

 He’s jealous of him.

 Bullies only care about themselves---about who they are and who they are in relation to others.

 Maybe that’s not right either.

 I don’t think they even care who they are in relation to others.

 Because others don’t matter.

 Others are simply things.

 They’re not people.

Others are there simply to fulfill what the bully needs.

And what is it the bully needs?

The bully needs to show and to prove that they are someone.

That they are important.

That they are in control.

And let’s face it, that’s never going to be satisfied.

Which is why bullies bully again and again.

Bullies are experts in aggression, intimidation and deceit.

And they do so to gain power.

And in doing so they become tyrants.

When bullies reign, oppression becomes the norm.

You know who isn’t a bully in our story?

Jesus.

And Jesus shows us how to stand up to bullies.

He does so with a strength Satan the Bully only wishes he could have.

Jesus stands up to Satan the bully with self-confidence and self-assurance.

Jesus knows who he is.

He knows he is the Son of God—the Messiah.

He is loved by God. 

And God loves him.

Jesus doesn’t allow himself to be manipulated and or coerced into something.

In responding to Satan in the wilderness, Jesus models how to stand up to bullies and tyrants.

Because we are followers of Jesus, this is important to us.

Because Jesus shows us the way forward, this is the way for us to deal with bullies as well.

We should always stand up to the bullies in our life with self-assurance.

 With confidence.

 With the holy self-assurance of confidence that we, too, are children of God.

 That we too are loved by God.

 That we too are anointed.

 That we too don’t need to bully in return.

 After all, you can’t follow Jesus and be a bully too.

 So, this Lenten season, let’s truly join Jesus and stand up to the bullies and tyrants in our lives.

 This Lent, let's give up giving in to bullying and tyranny.

 Let Jesus’ example of standing up to the powers of this world be the way for us to move through not only the wasteland of Lent, but also the wasteland of our world and our society right now.

 

Let us do so, like Jesus, with confidence and strength.

 

Let us remind ourselves that are beloved and anointed children of our loving God.

 

If we do so, we will prevail over the powers of bullies and despots.

 

We will rise above the dark forces that tempt us and threaten to hurt us and bring us down.

 

What better way to make this season of Lent a time of holy renewal in our lives?