A friend tells a story about being at a retreat where the leader asked the participants to think of someone who represented Christ for them. When it came time to share answers, one woman spoke up and said, “I had to think hard about that one. I kept thinking, Who is it that told me the truth about myself so clearly that I wanted to kill him for it?”
Seems like a worthy question for any of us to ask ourselves during Lent!
I don’t think she wanted to kill Jesus, this lonely woman at the well, who had likely come at midday because her social status made her unwelcome when other women came for water. However, he certainly had told the truth of her many husbands back to her: matter of factly, without judgement or shame. The Gospel of John is like this: it presents Jesus as light and way and truth; a perfect mirror in which people could see themselves as God did.
But Jesus did not use truth as a weapon, and neither was this woman of Samaria inclined to strike back. Rather, she seemed to welcome a theological conversation with this unexpected well-visitor, who came without so much as a bucket. We know that he offered her the living water of himself, but in a way I think she was a refreshment for him as well. She was smart, curious, and unafraid to interrogate a man whose social status was much higher than hers. Not because she wanted to catch Jesus in a theological trap, as the Pharisees did, but because she wanted to learn.
And the end of all her inquiry? It was to return to where she came from, bearing the good news of the longed-for messiah. She left behind her water jar—a critical household appliance for desert people—because it appears that she cared only about sharing the living water she had been given. The kind of water that can only be carried by the vessel of a human being, filled to overflowing with hope for her people.
I love this story in part because I prefer good questions to certain answers, which is certainly how Jesus himself taught. This morning, however, I want to do something I rarely do in a sermon: I want to tell you how to live. Not because I know how to do it: God knows I have little to offer you but a list of mistakes to avoid! But I want to retell this well-known Gospel story as a pattern for the life of a Christian disciple. Think again with me about who this woman of Samaria was, and what she did—
- She was a woman with a past… but she didn’t let that keep her from seeking out what she needed. We know that because Jesus made that clear in their conversation: she had five husbands and the one she had at home then was not her husband But John gives us even more clues. The woman came at midday: not typically a time to come looking for water in a desert climate. She came alone with neither sisters or female friends, nor even children to help. Disciples of Jesus, remember this: no matter that we are lonely, or what burdens or shame we may be carrying, God still longs to meet us where we are.
- She met someone unexpected… but she didn’t respond with fear. We know from other beloved Biblical stories, like the parable of the Good Samaritan, that traveling outside of the town boundaries alone could be a risky business, especially for woman. She had every reason to be defensive or scared upon meeting a stranger at the isolated well, but instead she exercised curiosity: “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” Disciples of Jesus, risk this possibility: maybe the unfamiliar or unexpected person in our path is just the one we need to know!
- She asked good questions, and then she listened to the teacher’s responses without judgment. For myself, it’s always so very tempting to stick with the answers I already know, or use the prejudices I already have. Sometimes I fail to even to ask why someone is saying or acting in a way I don’t like. Disciples of Jesus, I challenge you: when you don’t understand someone, ask them about themselves without prejudice, and be prepared to learn something new.
- She was open to the possibility that Jesus’ story had something to do with her own. She didn’t cancel him because he held views that differed from hers, and she didn’t resort to familiar categories to define him as other. Despite the fact that he was quite obviously male and Jewish, and she knew full well that Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans. She trusted that his living water, whatever it may have been, was for her as well. Disciples of Jesus, I invite you: accept the gift you didn’t go looking for, and let it change you.
- She knew that what she received from Jesus had value to others, so she didn’t hoard it. In fact, she returned to her city and shamelessly announced “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?” Such was her conviction that “they left the city and were on their way to him,” the Gospel says, and then themselves telegraphed the news: “we know that this is truly the Savior of the world.”
Disciples of Jesus, I exhort you: tell about what you know of and have experienced of God. I say that in all humility, because we all know that this is not what Episcopalians normally do. But you don’t have to start out going door to door in matching white button-downs. Begin with your most beloved ones: your partners and your families. Do they know how much you’ve been loved by God? Have you told your faith stories to your children and grandchildren? To the people in the pews next to you, or even to your pastor? I know that my own faith grows when you tell me about yours.
Whoever or wherever you are, be like the Samaritan woman. Seek out what you need, without shame or fear. Ask good questions, set aside your judgment, be open to answers that come from unexpected people and places. And above all, don’t hide what you learn along the way. God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us—that’s God’s truth as Paul taught it—and our responsibility is to keep right on pouring it.
Like water in a thirsty desert, like oil as a balm for a wound, like words of welcome and hospitality: we have been given exactly we are called to share. Because when all is said and done, the Gospel is a truth that kills only those things that need to die. Our shame, our fear, our prejudice, our avoidance and our addictions. Let those go, friends. Like a Lenten discipline, or perhaps like a water jar that doesn’t hold what you really need, feel free to leave aside what doesn’t give you life, and listen to Jesus instead. Because all authority in heaven and on earth has been given to him, and we who are his disciples have a job to do. Like the Samaritan woman showed us, and like Matthew told us: “go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and teaching them everything that I have commanded you.” And remember, God is with you always.
This is really heart opening, Julia. Thank you.