Jesús tenía sed

III Domingo de Cuaresma
Leccionario: 28

Jesús estaba cansado del camino y tenía sed. A veces, olvidamos que Jesús se cansó, tuvo hambre y sed como nosotros. Experimentó todas las necesidades y deseos sanos y santos que experimentamos. A veces pensamos en sus milagros y su increíble perseverancia durante la pasión, y nos olvidamos de su humanidad. 

Cuando me canso, tengo hambre y sed, soy como los hijos de Israel en la primera lectura: me pongo de mal humor y me quejo.

Cuando Jesús estaba cansado y sediento, se acercó a un extraño con amabilidad. Y no cualquier extraño, sino una mujer samaritana. Los judíos odiaban a los samaritanos. Vieron a los samaritanos como traidores y mestizos. A menudo caminaban un día más o más solo para evitar caminar por territorio samaritano. Era completamente inapropiado que un rabino judío hablara con un samaritano, y peor aún, que fuera una mujer de carácter dudoso.

Jesús miró a la mujer y vio algo diferente.

El vio a una persona.

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He Thirsts

Third Sunday of Lent
Lectionary: 28

Jesus was tired, and he was thirsty. Sometimes, we forget that Jesus became tired, hungry, and thirsty just like us. He experienced all the healthy and holy needs and desires we experience. Sometimes we think of his miracles and his incredible perseverance during the passion, and forget about his humanity. 

When I get tired, hungry and thirsty, I am like the Children of Israel in the first reading: I get grumpy, and I grumble.

When Jesus was tired and thirsty, he reached out to a stranger with kindness. And not just any stranger, but a Samaritan woman. The Jews hated the Samaritans. They saw the Samaritans as traitors, and half-breeds. Often they would walk an extra day or more just to avoid walking through Samaritan territory. It was entirely improper for a Jewish Rabbi to speak to a Samaritan, and even worse that she was a woman of dubious character.

Jesus looked at the woman and saw something different.

He saw a person.

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Turn the Other Cheek?

Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time
Lectionary: 79

When I was in kindergarten, I met my first bully. I don’t remember his name, but I remember getting punched when we were out on the playground. My teacher told my mom I needed to fight back. My mom told me to turn the other cheek. I spent the rest of the year avoiding the bully.

When I was in about the fourth grade, I met my second bully. John Paul picked on me, and picked on my sister, and picked on the other kids in the neighborhood. He lived waaaaay down the road, but made the two mile trip on his bike just to hassle us. Mostly, we tried to ignore him. One day, he stole the jump-rope my sister got for her birthday, and stood there making fun of her while she cried.

I beat the snot out of him. 

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