Well, here goes …I’m still mindful of the Samaritan woman at the well (Jn 4:5-42), from last Sunday’s Gospel reading, when along comes the man born blind (Jn 9:1-41) in this Sunday’s Gospel reading. I am awash in images, impressions, and vague notions about these stories of encounter with Jesus, and what they might mean.I’m struck by the significance of water in each story. For the Samaritan woman, water, and the well specifically, is a reminder of her place as an outsider in her own community–why else would she go to the well alone in the heat of mid-day? Her encounter with Jesus changes all that, enabling her to leave her water jar (and the disharmony it symbolizes) at the well, and reconnect with those around her.For the man born blind, water plays a more direct role–Jesus mixes his saliva with clay to cover the man’s eyes, then sends the man to wash in the pool of Siloam. This outward purifying mirrors the internal journey of the man born blind, who goes on to profess his belief in Jesus and follow him.In paying attention to these two stories this Lent, I felt an additional splash of insight from the tradition of Ignatian spirituality. I realized that both stories reach to the very heart of the Ignatian life. They are stories about the least, the lowest, the powerless and the pitied … and how God reveals Godself specifically and purposefully to them. They are beautiful, captivating stories. And they are also straightforward and practical lessons. Lessons of how God works, and how we are called to live.The stories always remind me to check in on my own Lenten journey. Am I, like the Samaritan woman and the man born blind, moving closer and closer to God? Am I becoming more and more a believer? Am I becoming, day by day and conversation by conversation, a better follower of Jesus?Or am I headed the other way?I’ve come to realize that any way that doesn’t get me closer to God, even if it’s standing still, is the other way. And I’ve spent plenty of days, during Lent and otherwise, heading that other way. The way of isolation and desolation. The way of stubborn independence, rejecting relationship and community. The way of apathy toward a world crying out for engagement and passion.I can get bogged down in this movement away from God, completely lost in that distance I’ve created between where I am and where I think God wants me to be. If I’m not careful, these moments of listless wandering tend to stick together, becoming weeks, seasons, even years of going the other way.But then I remember that woman and that man from the Gospel stories. Each of them met by Jesus exactly where they are. And called to take only the next step closer to God. Just the next step.

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