Third Sunday of Lent

1. Lectio

“Jacob’s well was there.
Jesus, tired from his journey, sat down there at the well…

Whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst;
the water I shall give will become in him
a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

John 4:5-42

The stakes are high. The power of simulation is such that AI can even deceive us by fabricating parallel “realities,” usurping our faces and voices. We are immersed in a world of multidimensionality where it is becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish reality from fiction.

To be or to pretend to be: simulating relationships and reality

As I reflect on Communion — the Centennial pillar for March, when I return each day to the well of Christ’s living water, do I allow Him to ground me in truth and real human encounter, or do I risk letting simulated realities and fabricated voices blur my perception of what is real, weakening the communion that grows only when we truly see and hear one another as children of God?

2. Meditatio

Living out here in the country, a well is not a metaphor—it is plumbing.

Our well is nothing particularly impressive to look at. A small pipe emerges from the earth like a modest confession that the ground is hiding something. Grass grows around it as if nothing important is happening beneath the surface.

But down there—some 365 feet below our quiet patch of Texas—rests the Ogallala Aquifer, a hidden ocean sustaining farms, livestock, gardens, and grandkids with watering cans.

The strange thing about wells is that they are invisible until they stop working.

When the electricity goes out, the well suddenly becomes the most interesting object on the property.

No power means no pump.
No pump means no water.

And a man can live without electricity longer than he imagines, but without water he quickly remembers that civilization is a very thin crust over a thirsty planet.

Yesterday I was sitting near our well watching the grandchildren play. One of my granddaughters came over with a bucket and asked if she could draw water from the faucet to water the garden my parents planted long ago.

The daffodils are blooming there now.

She filled the bucket, carried it carefully to the flowers, and returned again and again to the well for more water.

It was the sort of scene one might overlook entirely—except that the Gospel today insists that wells are never merely wells.

The Samaritan woman came to Jacob’s well expecting ordinary water. Instead she encountered Christ.

Which is always the curious thing about Christianity: the most ordinary places become sacred meeting points.

A well.
A roadside.
A pasture.
A quiet morning with scripture and a beeswax candle burning nearby.

I realized yesterday that my daily Lectio Divina is not so different from my granddaughter’s little mission.

Each morning I return to the well.

Not because the well has run dry, but because I have.

And every day the strange miracle repeats itself: Christ meets me there.

3. Contemplatio (Chestertonian Synthesis)

Chesterton once suggested that the modern world suffers not from lack of wonders but from lack of wonder.

A well is a perfect example.

It appears ordinary—a pipe in the ground, a faucet sticking up through the grass. Yet beneath it lies an immense hidden reservoir that makes life possible.

Grace works very much the same way.

The Christian life often appears uneventful from the outside. A man reads Scripture, prays quietly, attends Mass, returns to the same routines.

But beneath these simple practices flows an underground river of grace.

And Christ Himself sits beside the well waiting for thirsty souls to notice Him.

The Samaritan woman thought she had come for water.

Instead she became a well herself—running back into town to tell everyone she had met the Messiah.

That is what happens when someone truly encounters Christ.

They stop merely drawing water.
They begin overflowing.

4. Oratio

5. Actio — In Light of Laudato Si’ and Synodality

By contrast, if we feel intimately united with all that exists, then sobriety and care will well up spontaneously. 

Laudato si’ §11

Today I will intentionally share something that has refreshed my spirit—a word of encouragement, a prayer, or an act of kindness—so that others may drink from the well God has placed in my life.

6. Song Pairing 🎵

🎶 “Water in a Well” — Sturgill Simpson🎵

7. Movie Pairing 🎬

🎬Movie: Ryan’s Well (2001)

My Story

• Bishop Matthiesen, who rode the white horse of public activism even as he brought abusive priests into our diocese such as John Salazar—wounds that still mark us today. I spoke with him often, pleading with him to reconsider his “no regrets” about bringing those priests here…
• Bishop Yanta, who sought to enforce the Dallas Charter even when Bishop Matthiesen resisted him, and who bore the personal and pastoral cost of doing so. I met with Bishop Yanta about Bishop Matthiessen’s “no regrets” stance. He listened. He believed me. He acted where he could. And when he retired, he urged me—quietly but firmly—to keep speaking out.
• Bishop Zurek, who told the Diocese of Amarillo he had “no facts” about the Philadelphia report even as Amarillo’s connection to that tragedy was headline news. When I continued to speak out, as Bishop Yanta had once urged me to do, he later wrote that I was not among the faithful and loyal disciples whom the Lord Jesus desires.
• Bishop Daniel Cardinal DiNardo…

While we recognize your thoughtful suggestion for a renewed dialogue on Bishop Matthiesen, the present circumstances do not present an opportunity for it. I think it would foster division not dialogue. We remain confident in God’s providence and hopeful for what the future may bring.

from a letter dated March 5, 2026