This post is one in a series on the Works of Mercy. Released on Mondays, each essay is a short reflection on one Work and one chapter of Dynamic Catholic’s book Beautiful Mercy. Read more about the series here.
My grandmother has always been the consummate hostess. She keeps enough food in her home to feed a small army, and has a way of conjuring a perfectly curated snack plate for every person who walks through her door. But no matter if you’re a plumber, her great-grandson, or the president of the board, the first thing she asks after taking your coat and ushering you in the door is always, “What can I get you to drink?”
Giving drink to the thirsty is a life-giving work of mercy, an embrace and a relief in nearly all circumstances. If you’ve handed a juice box to a toddler on a sunny day, a full paper cup to a desperate marathoner, or a water bottle to a friend after a hard soccer practice, you know the joy shared in well-timed water break.
In her essay, “Refreshing Mercy,” Lisa Hendey paints a portrait of women fetching water in Tanzania, balancing gallons on their heads in brightly colored buckets, pointing out how many of us take our access to clean water for granted. And, no doubt, there is immense work to be done in ensuring this basic right. In his encyclical Laudato Si, Pope Francis emphasizes, “Our world has a grave social debt towards the poor who lack access to drinking water, because they are denied the right to a life consistent with their inalienable dignity. This debt can be paid partly by an increase in funding to provide clean water and sanitary services among the poor.” We can, of course, support such funding, and also make sure we stash extra water bottles in our car or backpack for the thirsty we may encounter on the street as we go about our days.
Yet of course, as with all works of mercy, giving drink to the thirsty has literal and figurative dimensions. Hendey says, “Let us also remember that the thirsty often have needs that will be met more often by words and deeds than by water… My elderly neighbor thirsts for someone to sit with her and simply listen. A friend who single-parents a child with special needs thirsts for compassion, understanding, and welcome. And often, my own family thirsts for my care and attention when I let my daily busyness stand in the way of lovingly fulfilling my vocation as a wife and mother.”
And as our Lord shows us how to live, he declares, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled.” Sometimes we spread righteousness with a water bottle, sometimes with a listening ear, sometimes with the work we do on behalf of others. Let us remember, too, that Jesus thirsts for all of us from the cross. As we go about our day, encountering Him in all things and all people, let us remember to spread the love He showed us, just as readily as we offer a visiting friend a drink.