Hearts have eyes — if not literally, then definitely metaphorically. Our hearts hold our innermost beliefs, and they reveal how we see and resultantly treat our Black Neighbors. If we allow our hearts to be examined, they reveal how much (or little) love we have for those neighbors and the ways our love needs to be purified. Our hearts house our fears, our insecurities, our pride, and the parts of us we don't wanna acknowledge.

Blackness is my mother tongue, my very first love language.

I was birthed in a Black Pentecostal church. My dark-skinned body was birthed into choir rocks and hand claps, my spirit reborn in the cool baptismal pool. My speech refined with new tongues,and my future prophesied into being.

For centuries, the Samaritan woman at the well has been read as a scandal. But if you take a closer look at the text, something shifts. Historical context and scholarship reveal that she was far more likely a survivor than a sinner — and reading her through a Western lens has distorted the story. The real story is far more compelling — and it tells us everything about the heart of Jesus.

Three women. All named Mary. All present at the moments that changed everything. We tend to blur them together, or worse, reduce them to a single supporting role in a story we think belongs to someone else. But their stories are among the most dramatic of Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection—and definitely worth revisiting.

What if art and history know the Samaritan Woman’s name? What if her story is far more complex, more beautiful, and more dignified than the one most of us were taught? And what if we've been reading her wrong all along?