The Roman Catholic Lectionary readings for the Third Sunday of Lent place us at a well at noon, in the wilderness with no water, and in the heart of God’s love poured out for the weak. They are not “safe” readings. They confront a question that keeps repeating in Scripture and in public life: When people are thirsty, afraid, and pressured, will we harden our hearts, or will we turn toward God and toward one another?
Water from the rock, and the temptation to cynicism
In Exodus, the people have a real need. “There was no water for the people to drink” (Exodus 17:1, ESV). Their thirst becomes accusation, then rage, then a dangerous question: “Is the LORD among us or not?” (Exodus 17:7, ESV). That question is not only ancient. It is modern. When a country is anxious, when systems fail, and when leaders want an easy target, the crowd is often invited to turn on the vulnerable rather than confront the truth. That is how scapegoating works, and it is one of the oldest political tricks in the world. Christians should recognize it instantly because Exodus names it with painful honesty.
We are living through a season in the United States where public life is saturated with grievance, suspicion, and an appetite for someone to blame. Immigrants are often treated as a useful “problem” to perform outrage against, rather than as human beings with dignity and stories. Exodus reminds us that fear can make people cruel, but it also shows God’s response: God provides water, and God stays present even when the people are faithless. That does not excuse sin, but it does expose the lie that cruelty is necessary for survival.
“Give me a drink” and the politics of contempt
The Gospel is John 4, Jesus and the Samaritan woman. Jesus begins with a request, not a demand: “Give me a drink” (John 4:7, ESV). He crosses a boundary that His disciples would rather avoid. He speaks to a person his society has trained him to dismiss. He treats her as fully human, spiritually serious, and capable of receiving God. Then He offers what no empire can offer: “living water” that becomes “a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (John 4:10, 14, ESV).
This matters for our current moment because authoritarian movements always rely on contempt. They rely on dividing the world into “us” and “them,” and then slowly shrinking who counts as “us.” Jesus does the opposite. He widens the circle. He tells the truth about the woman’s life without humiliating her. He refuses to treat her as a stereotype. He reveals Himself to her with stunning directness: “I who speak to you am he” (John 4:26, ESV). A church that follows this Jesus cannot join the dehumanization of immigrants, refugees, or any group a society labels “inconvenient.”
John’s Gospel also shows the social effect of dignity. The woman becomes a witness. She tells the truth about her encounter, and her whole town begins to move toward Christ. “Many Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony” (John 4:39, ESV). That is what happens when people are treated as neighbors rather than threats. Fear loses its grip. Hope spreads.
“God shows his love” and what Christians owe the vulnerable
Romans 5 grounds everything in grace. “While we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly” (Romans 5:6, ESV). This is not a sentimental slogan. It is a moral foundation. If God loved us while we were weak, we do not get to despise weakness in others. If God moved toward us when we did not deserve it, we do not get to build a society that only values people who are “useful.” “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8, ESV).
When immigration becomes a political weapon, the Christian response cannot be apathy or performative neutrality. The Roman Catholic USCCB teaching resource on immigration explicitly grounds the Church’s concern in Scripture and in human dignity, and it argues that basic human rights do not disappear because of legal status. It also warns against inhumane treatment and calls for policy shaped by justice, mercy, and the common good. Whether or not we share Roman Catholic jurisdiction, those moral claims match the heart of the biblical witness.
Standing against fascism as a Christian discipline
Lent is training, not theater. One of the disciplines Lent trains in us is moral clarity. Fascism, in practice, is not only a label. It is a pattern: scapegoating, propaganda, coercion, contempt for truth, and the use of state power to punish or exclude targeted groups. Christians resist this not by becoming partisan machines, but by refusing the spiritual logic underneath it. We refuse contempt. We refuse lies. We refuse to surrender the dignity of the vulnerable for the comfort of the majority.
It is worth remembering that the Roman Catholic USCCB’s First Freedom Blog explicitly notes the Church’s historical wounds from state authoritarianism “ranging from Communism to fascism,” and it describes how the machinery of the state has been used brutally against minorities. The point is not nostalgia. The point is vigilance and the courage to say “no” when coercion is normalized.
A parish response for this week
This week, the Scriptures invite a specific kind of repentance. Ask where you are tempted to harden, to reduce people to categories, or to join contempt because it feels safe.
- Pray with Exodus 17 and name your own wilderness question honestly before God.
- Pray with John 4 and ask Christ to show you the person you have been trained not to see.
- Pray with Romans 5 and ask God to make your love sturdier than your fear.
Then take one concrete step. Learn an immigrant family’s story. Support a ministry that provides legal, food, housing, or medical assistance. Refuse to repeat dehumanizing speech, even when it is popular. Be the kind of Christian who offers living water in a thirsty time.
May the Holy Spirit soften what has become hard in us, and may our parish become a well in the desert for those who are tired, targeted, and afraid.
Pax et Bonum,
Bishop Greer
