It has been three years this month since Covid-19 came into all of our lives. So much has changed in these past three years. I met this past Wednesday with 25 folks who are part of a non-profit organization in our community to help them talk with one another about what has happened to them individually and collectively since March of 2020.
In this mini-retreat they talked about what they grieve and how they’ve grown. I first had them each take time individually to write about what they have lost and how they have grown over this time. I then had them share what they had written in small groups. Finally, the small groups shared their overarching themes with the whole group.
It was so moving to hear how tenderly they spoke and listened to one another. This time together was something they had needed. Working remotely means they rarely have time to catch up with one another. They miss the sharing that simply happens over cups of coffee in the break room. And the pandemic ended their monthly potlucks which they all agreed was one of the best parts of working together. We did start out with a meal, a taco bar for our retreat. After our time together one person exclaimed, “We’re so much better together!” Everyone agreed.
I reminded them that a companion is someone we break bread (pan) with. We need companions, people to share our meals and our lives with. It can be so very isolating if we don’t. The group noted that during the pandemic they found new ways to gather. And for this particular group of professionals zoom has helped them reach out to many more people in need.
We all need someone to share our stories with over zoom or a meal. Even Jesus needed to take a break to talk, really talk to someone as he traveled. He was so weary when he stopped to rest for awhile at Jacob’s well. When Jesus got to the well he had no skin bucket or rope, so he does the unthinkable in his time, he asks a lonely woman for a drink of water.
The Samaritan woman in the Gospel of John comes alone to the well at noon, the hottest part of the day. Most women went to the well early in the day, as a group. The gathering of water was a social event, a time to be away from family and talk. But this woman came alone, perhaps because she’s tired of all the gossip. She knows the other women talk about her because she has had five husbands in all and now she is living with a man who isn’t her husband.
Alone she encounters Jesus. How strange it would have been to have a man speak to her. Women had no place in public life. They were not to be seen or heard, especially not by rabbis, who did not speak to their own wives in public. Also, Jews and Samaritans had nothing do do with one another. Jesus surprises the woman by stepping across these lines of hostility and approach her as a worthy human being. In fact, he assumes an inferior position when he asks her for a drink of water in the scorching heat. She must have paused awhile before offering him her watery cup.
Their conversation slowly deepens from the literal to the spiritual, from well water to living water. Jesus claims that “the water I give people will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life”. She asks for this water so that she won’t have to come to this well ever again. And he reveals to her who he really is, the Messiah. It’s the first time he shares this with anyone. In their conversation, both Jesus and the woman are transformed. She runs to share this news with the people of her village. Remarkably they do come and listen to this man sitting by their well.
Transformations happen when we sit and share our stories with one another and truly listen well. I remembered this again last Wednesday when after the mini-retreat I made my way to the St. Louis County Jail to meet with 12 of the women there. It was International Women’s Day and so I asked them to share a story about a woman who had been important in their lives. Names and stories poured forth, mostly grandma’s and aunties. Towards the end of our hour, we also talked about Judge Sally Tarnowski, who had died unexpectedly just two days prior. Several of the women had her as their judge. Tears flowed as they spoke of her tough love. She had really known them, their stories and still cared.
Yes, so much has changed in the last three years. We grieve and we have grown. We need to find ways to fill one another’s cups, for we are so thirsty for community. May we listen well to one another’s stories. And let us set them all in a larger story of the God who loves us no matter how far we’ve strayed.
“all shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well” — Julian of Norwich, 14th C
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