As we work our way through the Examen prayer as a community this Lent, this third step is sort of a pivot. Having recognized God active in our day, expressing thanks for that, we transition to discerning the meaning, what is God trying to do, what is God saying to us, why did God show up in that particular instance.

Looking at it from a liturgical perspective, we know that, among many other ways, God is present in our worship together in the Eucharist itself, in the ministers of the sacraments, in the spoken scriptures, and in our singing and praying together. That's all great, but the question is, so what? We might feel delighted in the moment as we receive the Body of Christ, or are particularly convicted by a piece of music, but without taking the time to reflect on the experience, we won't build upon the graces being offered. God is always providing grace, a gift, but it is up to us to act upon it, to cooperate with it.

In our western society there is a great emphasis on being prepared for everything ahead of time, to eliminate surprises. So often our first inclination about getting a better experience of Mass is to prepare more. Read the readings ahead of time, learn the music, listen to other commentaries leading up to the homily, learning about the rituals before we engage them. This is all fine, but more often than not, we fail to do something which is FAR more important, that is, take the time to reflect afterwards on our experience. This is an essential part of our Catholic tradition called mystagogy. We can prepare to experience God all we like, but, in reality, until ithappens, we can't know what God is calling us to, what grace we are called to cooperate with. There is an ambiguity there that we are not comfortable with, because it implies things will unfold according to God instead of according to me.

In the Bible, when a person encounters God in some way, their first response is often to ask a question or two. A good example is the Samaritan woman we hear about today. Jesus clearly challenges some of her assumptions, so she asks questions like, "“How can you, a Jew, ask me, a Samaritan woman, for a drink?” or, "“Sir, you do not even have a bucket and the cistern is deep; where then can you get this living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us this cistern and drank from it himself with his children and his flocks?” We may see this as a negative thing, a sign of doubt for instance, but it is actually a wonderful strategy. It is a sincere way of interacting with God, and it almost always leads to greater clarity.

So, if we're serious this Lent of aligning our lives less with our own ambitions and more with God's intent, we should consider reimagining our approach to prayer, both personal and communal, to leave our preparation a little more open-ended, and to take the time, when we encounter God, to listen, to ask questions, and discern why God was present to us at that moment.