Who do you send to the well?
One day in middle school, I went to school wearing blue sweatpants. I didn’t think anything of it until I was standing in the bus line and one of the girls looked at me and said, What are you wearing? Are you serious right now? (Looking back, I should have said, Hello?! We’re barely out of the ’80s; what else would I be wearing right now?!) But I didn’t. I remember I looked down at my cobalt blue, Fruit of the Loom, elastic bottom sweatpants thinking, Why does she care about my pants? When I looked back up, she was nudging the girls around her and pointing at me. More insults followed. It wasn’t the words she said or even her rallying support against my cozy pants; it was the girls who silently pointed at me beside her that broke my heart — the same girls I had just given the last pieces of my coveted Hubba Bubba gum.
Smacking my gum, they all shuffled away.
I stood alone waiting for the bus, then sat alone all the way home over a stupid pair of blue sweats.
I realized something significant that day; it is the silence of the majority who do the most damage.
This Sunday we will read the Gospel about the woman at the well. At the height of the day, she went at noon to avoid the other women of the town who would get their water in the cool of the morning. No doubt her scarlet letter made her object for ridicule; she was set aside and seen as the sum of her sins through a pointed finger. Reflections on this reading often invite us to stand in her place, asking ourselves — What am I hiding that I think God doesn’t know about? How is God revealing Himself to me in the midst of my pain? What are the wounds in my life that are causing me to hide? What are the sins in my life that are causing me to hide?
All good questions.
But today, I propose a different question. Place yourself in the sandals of the town’s women and ask yourself, When has my silence made me complicit in her ridicule? When has my silence compounded her shame? When has my silence been a source of her wound? Who do I send to the well?
Every day, in every space, we have the opportunity to affirm the dignity and worth of the people we encounter, but so many of us choose silence. If we are honest with ourselves, our silence has allowed the systematic destruction of human life in every community throughout the world. We're silent because we're uncomfortable — we bear our own wounds, lack confidence, and struggle with Truth; we too feel cast aside and seen as the sum of our sins…
We are silent because we don't want to be on the other side of the pointed finger.
As we prepare for the passion of Christ, we must rail against our tendency to look at the cross from afar, from averting our eyes from the reality of what it contains. We sanitize the cross, mythologize it, dismiss its meaning… We choose not to see His wounds, raw and bleeding, matted with sand and dirt from the ground. We don't see His muscles contract under the weight of the will of His Father. We don't consider His broken heart when the world points and accuses as He lay fallen or hangs crucified… We avert our eyes to the reality of the cross in fear of having to pick it up ourselves.
We can never forget that there is absolutely no Easter Sunday without the blood and pain of Good Friday.
This week, let us take time to acknowledge the times we have been silent when we shouldn't have been. The times when we go along with the cowardice of the crowd when people stand wounded before us. The times when we run in fear from the pointed finger rather than facing evil with courage. The times when we'd rather hide in the complacency of evil's shadows rather than boldly stand within the light of Christ. The times when we demand the gift of salvation without being willing to pick up the cross….
Mother Angelica said it best, "Holiness isn't for wimps and the cross is not negotiable, sweetheart, it's a requirement." Christ didn't walk His bloody passion to spare the silent majority from its weight — He walked His bloody passion to show us the way. "If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me." (Matthew 16:24)
You aren't being asked to carry your cross alone. In today's culture, we know that the very act of affirming the dignity of the human person is often met with fierce opposition. This is why we are here! The Pelican Project is your community. Make an intentional decision today to step away from the silent majority and commit your hands, feet, and heart to affirm and protect the dignity and life of the human person in every space of your life.
Again, Mother Angelica perhaps said it best… "I'm not afraid to fail… I'm scared to death of dying and having the Lord say to me, 'Angelica, this is what you might have done had you trusted more.'
This week, our Pray, Grow, & Serve walks with your children through the fifth, sixth, and seventh Stations of the Cross. Get all 14 beautiful Stations of the Cross, here!
