Jesus is sitting on the edge of a well. His disciples are standing around him. They are holding sandwiches. He is holding forth.

Do you know, he says, what fills my belly more than those sandwiches you are holding? Do you know what makes me get up in the morning, what so captivates me that I don’t even notice when I’m hungry? Do you know why I am so focused when I’m in a conversation that matters?

“My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work.”

You know how you say, “we’ve got plenty of time. No need to hurry. The harvest isn’t coming for four months.” You, dear friends, are fooling yourselves. Look at the fields. They are ripe.

At which point, the disciples would have begun to nudge each other. Jesus may have been a great rabbi, but he was a lousy farmer. The fields around the disciples couldn’t have been ripe.

If they had been ripe, the disciples could have grabbed handfuls of grain. By law, if they were hungry, they could have snacked as they walked.

And Jesus, knowing their thoughts, may well have laughed out loud at that point.

“Open your eyes! Look!”

And as they grudgingly turned around, they would have seen what Jesus saw. Bobbing along the path from the village, looking for all the world like waves of wheat, were the white robes and tanned faces and curly hair of the people coming to find out what the woman had been talking about.

Sometimes, Jesus says, all you have to do is show up. Stop trying to do everything. Be glad that you are part of a team. The conversation may come to you. The questions may come to you.  And I’m here, too.