Facing the Truth

Christ and the Woman of Samaria,
by Giovanni Lanfranco, c. 1625-8

          There comes a time when every person confronts a life-altering question:  Does God really see everything we do?  The answer to that question can have real consequences on the way we live our lives, a fact that seems to dawn on us at a pretty young age.  I remember asking my parents that question when I was about 5-years old.  My girls sheepishly asked me that question at around the same age, and I remember clearly that neither I nor they were very happy with the answer.  That’s because as Catholics, we believe that the answer to that question is “yes,” which means that we’re accountable to God for all that we do.  Standing before God, we can’t hide behind anonymity or even plausible deniability.  Standing before God, we can’t avoid facing the truth.  The Woman at the Well learned that lesson in today’s Gospel. 

In our Gospel passage, chosen especially for our RCIA candidates as we celebrate the First Scrutiny, a Samaritan woman meets Jesus at Jacob’s well, where he offers her living water, the gift of eternal life.  Her initial response is somewhat incredulous and surly.  But as soon as Jesus confronts her with her questionable history, as soon as she sees and acknowledges who she really is, her tone change because she begins to see Jesus for who he really is.  Once she faces the truth figuratively, she faces the truth literally.  Then, and only then, is she ready to receive Jesus’ gift of living water.  And so it is with us.

          In his classic Bible commentary, William Barclay wrote that “[there] are two revelations in Christianity:  the revelation of God and the revelation of ourselves.  We never really see ourselves until we see ourselves in the presence of Christ.”[1]  Facing the truth can be a humbling experience.  The light of Christ not only illumines our paths; it also reveals who we really are, warts and all.  “There are no wrappings or disguises [that] are protections against the gaze of Christ.  It is his power to see into the depths of the human heart.”[2]  In some aspects of our lives, Jesus’ soul-searching gaze may seem embarrassing or even painful.  But Jesus doesn't only see the wrong we've done; he also sees all the good things we've done.  He understands our true motives, our hopes, our fears and our weaknesses.  Better yet, he sees our potential for the great things we can achieve, offering us forgiveness for our sins, and the opportunity to live holier and happier lives.  Jesus always accepts us for who we really are, and then, he offers to make us even better – he offers us his living water.

          But to receive the living water, we have face the truth, and facing the truth starts with knowing the truth.  We live in a time when fewer and fewer people accept that there’s such a thing as universal truth.  This phenomenon is known as moral relativism:  the belief that what may be the truth for me, may not be the truth for you.  Speaking from my own experience, I seem to plunge head-first into moral relativism when what I want to do is inconsistent with the Truth.  Truth becomes relative for me whenever the universal truth challenges me.  Faced with the truth or, more accurately, faced with being in the wrong in light of the truth, I grumble and complain against God like the Israelites did at Meribah and Massah in our first reading.  Worse yet, I deny God’s universal truth and justify my actions by adjusting the truth to fit my wants and needs.  This act of moral manipulation doesn't make my actions right; it just makes them more convenient.  It’s easier to run away from the truth than to face it. 

So one of the most important lessons I learned in diaconal formation was that, like the Woman at the Well, I had to face the truth.  Faced day after day, lesson after lesson with the Truth of Christ, I slowly began to see who I really am – the good and the bad.  I learned that “although no one will ever grasp the truth in its entirety, it is total truth that we should aim at, not the snatching at fragments which happen to suit ourselves and our own position.”[3]  I learned that I can’t achieve a holier, happier life alone.  I have to face the truth of my weaknesses and turn to Christ for his saving help.  I learned that “[w]e sinners can always find hope, we who flee furiously from God can never run fast enough finally to get away.”[4]  I learned that this hope does not disappoint because “God’s love for us is unconditional, and the greatest witness of this is Christ’s death for our sins in order to redeem us, though we are unworthy and undeserving of his mercy.”[5]  I learned that the living water is always available to us if we’re willing to face the truth. 

So where do we find the truth?  In scripture, in the teachings of the Church and, most importantly, in the well-springs of our hearts – our consciences.  “[Our] conscience is [our] most secret core and [our] sanctuary.  There [we] are alone with God whose voice echoes in [our] depths.”[6]  God speaks to us in our conscience to help us discern right from wrong, to inspire us always to live in truth and to help us choose the lesser of evils when faced with nothing but bad choices.  Our conscience always leads us to the living water.  We just have to listen to it.  As today’s Psalm so beautifully pleads, “If today you hear his voice, harden not your hearts.”[7]  

          Did I mention that God sees everything we do?  Now, some of us may not mind so much, being that we freely advertise to the world what we ate for breakfast, what level we've achieved on Candy Crush, and how much we hate the snow.  But it’s probably safe to say that we've all done things that we don’t want posted on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram.  Be that as it may, we can’t hide from God, and that fact has real consequences on the way we live our lives.  We can deny the truth and live in fear, shame and denial, or we can accept the truth, as challenging as it may be, and strive for a holier and happier life.  The gift of the living water, the fountain of eternal peace and happiness, is waiting to quench our thirst.  But before we can drink, we have to meet Jesus at the well and face the truth.   

Readings:  Exodus 17: 3-7; Psalm 95; Romans 5: 1-2, 5-8; John 4: 5-42

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[1] William Barclay, The Gospel of John, vol. 1 (Louisville, Westminster John Knox Press, 2001) at 182.

[2] Barclay at 190.

[3] Barclay at 182.

[4] Robert Barron, Thomas Aquinas:  Spiritual Master (New York, Crossroad Publishing, 2008) at 92.

[5] The Didache Bible, Romans 5:6-11, note (San Francisco, Ignatius Press, 2014) at 1516.

[6] Catechism of the Catholic Church at 1776.

[7] Psalm 95.