Lent 3A
March 12, 2023
John 4:1-41
INTRODUCTION
If last week’s texts were all about faith, this week’s are all about longing, thirsting – especially thirsting for God. We begin in the wilderness with the wandering Israelites. At this point, they have left slavery in Egypt, and are on their way to the Promised Land, and they are growing a bit weary of the monotony of their travels. They’re getting thirsty, and testy, and start badgering Moses about it. God responds by providing water out of a rock, of all things, quenching the people’s thirst.
Our reading from John comes right on the tails of last week’s encounter with Nicodemus, and could hardly be more different. Nicodemus was an educated, Jewish man coming to Jesus by dark of night, and now Jesus will encounter a Samaritan woman whose name we don’t know, in the brightest part of the day. You’ll recall that last week Jesus told Nicodemus that “God so loved the world that he gave his only son so that all who believed in him would not perish but have eternal life.” Now, the text tells us Jesus “had to” go through Samaria, a land of ethnic and religious others – though a look on a map shows he could have avoided it. The need was theological: here, Jesus will show the disciples what he means when he says God loves the world – even this land full of their political and religious enemies!
I’ll give a little more context right before we hear that reading. For now, as you listen, consider where your soul is feeling parched, and what would quench your thirst. Let God’s living Word be your living water. Let’s listen.
[READ]
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
I belong to several clergy groups on Facebook, which are sometimes a wonderful place to share ideas and support one another… and sometimes, my colleagues’ words or actions puzzle me. For example, a few years ago, one pastor posted that some Gideons had come to her office, wanting to speak to the congregation. You know the Gideons – they are the ones who work to get Bibles in hotel rooms and elsewhere. Turns out, they are an evangelical Christian group of “business and professional men and their wives.” In other words, blue collar workers and women (except wives of members) are excluded from this group. So, in this woman’s post, she wrote, “I told a couple of sexist, classist men that as long as I am pastor here, Gideons will never be welcome to speak.”
Though I can appreciate her gumption, this also rubbed me the wrong way. I suggested in the comments that perhaps instead of telling them wholesale that they were unwelcome, perhaps she could have invited them into a conversation about it, asked what in the gospel supported the group’s rules about membership, and then express her concerns about it. Let’s just say… she didn’t think that was a good idea. “Who has time or energy for that?” she asked. “When has politeness ever changed the system or gotten us any closer to justice? They wouldn’t have been receptive to the idea, anyway.” And then she assured me that she did not regret what she said. Well. Okay then.
I thought of this encounter as I studied this week’s Gospel text. This woman at the well is about as “other” to Jesus as she can possibly be: a woman, and a Samaritan (meaning, she was ethnically and religiously different). It is remarkable that Jesus is talking to her at all, let alone in the bright noonday light, where everyone can see them! Yet John makes it clear that this was quite intentional on Jesus’ part. Jesus is living out his claim that he has sent by God’s love for the world – that is, the broken world – and is showing his disciples that when he said “world,” this is what he meant: not only people just like them, but people who were across the divide, who differed from them in all the ways they felt mattered.
There is so much for us to learn from this conversation. Division in our communities, our politics, our churches, even in our families is nothing new to us. When we are faced with such division, I think our inclination is to approach not with curiosity and desire to understand, but with accusations and judgment. We are ready to defend ourselves, or go on the offensive – even though we know that neither tactic gets us any closer to bridging the divide. But this conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well will shows us how to have conversations with people different from us, conversations in which God is present. This interaction shows us that when we can approach each other in the way demonstrated here, we get a glimpse of the very nature of God, and we are thus transformed for mission.
The first thing to notice about this conversation between Jesus and the unnamed Samaritan woman is that it begins in a place of mutual vulnerability. We know that she is vulnerable – she is a 5-times widowed or divorced Samaritan woman talking to a Jewish male. But Jesus begins the conversation by expressing his own need: he is thirsty. Furthermore, he needs her help to fill that need. It’s not very often that our conversations with others start this way. Generally, I think we go into a conversation with someone who differs from us with the intention of proving we are right, not by confessing that we have a need that can only be satisfied by being in relationship with the other. Yet this is the way God chooses to start a conversation with this woman, and with us. Mutual vulnerability.
The next thing to notice about the conversation is the centrality of, you guessed it, questions – and not rhetorical questions, or questions that will ultimately prove that you are right, or to catch someone in a logical fallacy, like what we heard last week from Nicodemus. Instead, the questions asked here are genuinely curious about the other. They reflect an interest in learning and understanding. The woman is full of questions for Jesus, and Jesus makes space for them. Rather than requiring her to keep quiet, as would be customary for a woman talking to a man in the first century, she becomes a conversation partner with Jesus, asking him her most pressing theological questions – about proper worship, and the nature of God. By engaging in these questions, the relationship between God and the woman is strengthened.
The third thing to notice is that conversations like this, that are genuinely interested in the other, take time. I was interested, thinking back to my exchange with my colleague on Facebook, that her response was, “Do you have the time and energy to develop relationships with every sexist, classist person who comes across your path?” And, well, I suppose the answer is no, because developing relationships, especially with people who are different from you, or with whom you adamantly disagree, takes a lot of time and energy. But does that mean we shouldn’t try? Does it mean we shut it down before it has even started, or after the very first bump in the road? Jesus surely doesn’t. The woman knows she has no business talking to this man; nevertheless, she persists, and Jesus give her all the time in the world to do so. And because of that, when she finally does leave, she goes straight to the city to tell everyone about her encounter with the Messiah. She has been changed by the encounter.
Which brings us to the fourth point: when you have a conversation with or about Jesus, expect to be surprised, and expect to be changed. Expect that through conversation with one of God’s children, God will reveal something important to you, something about God that you had never noticed before. The last thing Jesus says to this woman before she goes into the city, is to reveal to her exactly who he is: “I am he,” he says. It is the first of Jesus’ many “I am” statements in the Gospel of John – the statements that elaborate on God’s revelation to Moses at the burning bush, when God describes Godself as, “I am who I am.” And in this way Jesus revealed himself to the Samaritan woman – and so also is God revealed to us, when we genuinely, humbly, and thoughtfully engage with the other.
The work of conversation, especially with those who differ from us racially, religiously, ethnically, or ideologically, is terribly difficult work. It takes a willingness to be vulnerable with one another and to let ourselves be truly seen by one another. It requires asking a lot of questions and then really listening to the answers with the intention to learn, not to debunk or refute. It takes a lot of time and energy and practice – we often fail at it (I know I do!). And even when we do succeed, it often results in our being changed – and we all know that change is rarely easy or smooth. But when we listen to one another this way, we also open ourselves to the possibility of listening to and hearing God, and then, to being transformed by God.
Just look at what happened to the woman. She comes to him as a shamed and ashamed person in her society. After her genuine, vulnerable, thoughtful conversation with Jesus, she goes back into the city and witnesses to her experience with God. She tells others how she has been touched and changed by the encounter. And because of her witness, many others come to believe in Christ. Could that happen also with us? Might we find that when we engage with one another in this way, and they with us, we also experience more deeply the love of a God who came into the world to save the world?
My hope and prayer is that when we follow the example of this remarkable conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan woman, we will not only know more deeply the love of God and be changed, but that by our being changed, God might also change those whom we encounter. God’s love has the power to transform this broken world; let us go out to share that love with the world.
Let us pray… God on the margins, you love and engage with even those we have no interest in. Embolden us to be curious, and to open our hearts to be touched and moved by our encounters with those who are different from us in race, gender, or creed, so that we would be empowered to share your love with the world you came to save. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Full service can be viewed HERE.
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