The Woman at the Well, recounts the encounter between Jesus and the Samaritan woman.
It has been painted often, written about at length, and preached with frequency.
It reminds me of a dishcloth in the kitchen — much used and wrung dry countless times. The more words written and spoken, the more the reality becomes hidden beneath them.
Each author or preacher attempts to find some new and enlightening angle.
Many focus on Jesus as he shatters the taboos of his time — and ours. Gender discrimination, ritual purity (sharing a drinking cup with a Samaritan), socio-economic poverty (any woman married five times was likely poor), religious hostility, and the moral stigma of serial marriages.
And yet the woman is left nameless. She is not alone in this Gospel ignominy — but how would you feel, being spoken of without a name?
Here is a picture to sit with. It comes from Vie de Jésus Mafa (Life of Jesus Mafa), a series of paintings undertaken in the 1970s to help teach the Gospel in northern Cameroon.
Notice the grace of the woman. The way she carries herself. Her elegant walk.
Our Gospels, by tradition, were written by men. Have you ever considered how these stories might read if written by women?
This Sunday, be bold. Sit with this woman and let her tell her story.
Here’s your text revised for NZ spelling, grammar, flow, and AP-style short paragraphs:
I can only speak with any assuredness of myself here.
I am aware that at times I read the Scriptures as though I am watching a movie. Everything is happening on a screen, and I am in the audience — even when the audience is only me.
Admittedly, such a stance provides safety and security. Not getting directly involved offers protection.
The Gospel Context
Our Gospel for this Sunday is commonly referred to as the Transfiguration. As a feast day in the Roman calendar, the celebration occurs on 6 August.
Each of the Synoptic Gospels — Matthew, Mark, and Luke — provides an account. Today, we read from Matthew 17:1–9.
A Striking Perspective
The image I have chosen is by Nigerian artist Augustin Kolawole Olayinka (1964–). The painting is titled The Transfiguration of Jesus.
The perspective is striking compared to most representations. The foreground does not show the disciples kneeling, but rather Jesus coming towards the viewer, followed by Moses and Elijah.
Three disciples stand further down the mountain in the background. They see the apparition only from behind — looking at the back of the divine reality.
Two of them hold a hand in front of their eyes to protect themselves from the blinding light.
Symbolism in the Details
Moses and Elijah do not stand next to Jesus in conversation; they walk behind him as his followers.
Moses carries the staff he used to perform miracles and the belt of the Passover. Elijah wears a simple prophet’s robe of camel hair, while the flames at the bottom of his robe may refer to God’s miraculous fire on Mount Carmel.
The colour scheme is striking, dominated by warm earth tones of brown and ochre. The green and red of the sky are reflected in the garments of Jesus, while his halo and the upper part of his robe are pink.
A Call to Engagement
In the artist’s perspective, the Transfiguration is not just about Jesus revealing himself to the disciples. Jesus comes towards us — I can no longer sit and gaze only.
Jesus invites me to engage, to commit, and to follow him. He asks me to join his followers across different ages — those who have been, those who are, and those who will be.
Discipleship calls for engagement and commitment, not observation.
Getting Up Without Fear
Towards the end of our Gospel passage we read: “But Jesus came and touched them, saying, ‘Get up and do not be afraid.'”
Many have indeed got up over the years to place their abilities at the service of their faith community.
This includes service on the parish pastoral council, ministers of the Word and the Eucharist, musicians, funeral teams, and those involved in the family Mass.
It also includes the “unseen” people — those who count the collection, tend the flowers, and care for the sacristy. Each has responded to the invitation of Jesus: “Get up and do not be afraid.”
The image shows green grass growing in parts of Kulnura on the Central Coast of New South Wales, which had been burned three weeks earlier. The photograph was taken in 2022.
Lent is here again.
Retreat for a moment to your childhood memories. Sweets gathering in an Agee jar in the cupboard. Fasting and abstinence to the fore. Self-restraint in all things the order of the day.
No meat on Fridays. The strong determination to do something more worthwhile.
My strongest memory is that I have always celebrated my birthday during Lent! Why did my parents choose early March as my birth date?
The image I have for the season of Lent is living with the blinds pulled down. The word subdued comes to mind. Sackcloth would be the Old Testament equivalent.
There are, however, some anomalies in our season of Lent.
The first is in the “liturgical sackcloth” we use. Our Lenten liturgical colour is purple, the same colour used most frequently during our ritual for the dead.
In antiquity, purple was one of the most challenging colours to produce, making it highly prized and often reserved for the elite. The most famous purple dye, Tyrian purple, was derived from the mucous secretion of sea snails, particularly the Murex brandaris.
This painstaking process required thousands of snails to produce just a small amount of dye, contributing to its high value and association with nobility and power. The Roman emperors famously donned purple togas, symbolising their supreme status.
The rare and expensive Tyrian dye of antiquity is now widely available through synthetic pigments developed in the 19th century. To this day, purple remains associated with royalty, wealth and power.
If in doubt, search images of King Charles III and Queen Camilla waving to the gathered crowd immediately following his coronation. After the ceremony at Westminster Abbey, Charles retired to a side room and changed into a specially made purple satin coronation tunic.
The second anomaly is the very word itself — Lent. It originates from the Old English word “lencten,” meaning spring.
Spring is the season of new budding and new growth. It is the season of fresh colour, of awakening, of new lambs and calves, of daffodils and tulips.
The world is anything but subdued. The world is noisy with new life.
The third anomaly is our use of ashes. If you participated in the Ash Wednesday liturgy, you may have noticed that the usual Penitential Rite was omitted and replaced by the blessing and giving of ashes.
This gives the ashes a penitential feel. However, ashes are, in fact, anything but penitential.
Wood ash provides potassium and lime — essential elements for healthy growth. This is most evident in the new growth that follows a forest fire, where new shoots push up through the ash, which becomes the seedbed for renewal.
May the ashes of Ash Wednesday be the seedbed of new growth in you.
The township of Pukekohe lies some 45km south of Auckland city in Aotearoa, New Zealand.
In the township, there is a store called Pik n Mix. It’s an online lolly store with over 400 different types of loose lollies.
Yes, you read right – 400!
When purchasing, you need to make a choice. Is it the size, the colour, or the taste that influences your choice of lolly?
What you choose and pay for then becomes your responsibility.
This simple act of choosing mirrors a deeper spiritual truth.
In our First Reading today (Ecclesiasticus 15:16–21), the author invites us to make a choice.
“God has set fire and water before you; put out your hand to whichever you prefer. People have life and death before them; whichever a person likes better will be given to them.”
God summons us to a radical way of living. We are called to be more than just moral: God invites us to be virtuous.
We become virtuous by habitually choosing to do good.
Naturally, we are not perfect. However, God calls us to reflect on how we live and to understand what has gone right and what has gone wrong for us.
Such reflection can lead us to insight that will help us to live better and be virtuous in the future.
Therefore, by reflecting on our experiences in the light of our faith, we grow in wisdom.
The author of today’s first reading, Sirach, affirms that God knows every human action. St. Paul reminds us that God has many riches for those who love him.
Jesus, in Matthew’s Gospel, says that he has come not to abolish but to fulfil the Law and the Prophets.
What we see clearly in the readings today is that there are repercussions – good or bad – for all our actions.
Our challenge is to avoid opportunities that do harm and to choose those that lead us to God.
Sirach, the Psalmist, Paul and Jesus embraced this way of life. They are examples of how we can become virtuous and wise.
If we take to heart their messages from the readings this Sunday, we too, like them, will be true beacons of virtue – people of faith, hope and love.
