John 4
For the past few weeks I’ve been living in the world imagined in the John’s gospel, the story of the woman at the well. This morning I propose to return from that world with a missionary report about my initial findings from the land of Samaria, the town of Sychar and the well just outside town.
Before, I do, listen to this story, listen for voices of Jesus, the woman and the narrator in [John 4: 4-29].
I considered showing an old fashioned slide show of my trip to the world imagined in this narrative; a series of slides for example, of first impressions upon entering this world; pictures of the woman’s neighborhood, the characters on her street, the people who live next door.
The story of the Samaritan woman is just one house down from Nicodemus. In John’s world the Samaritan woman lives next door to Nicodemus. Nicodemus in chapter three and the Samaritan woman in chapter four. When you look at these two neighbors they have some things in common that capture the attention. Water, for example and the Spirit. And, Jesus has a conversation with a single person out in the middle of nowhere. Chapter three, Nicodemus. Chapter four: Samaritan woman. Practically next door neighbors.
I just wanted to note their proximity . . . and that they live in very different homes.
Nicodemus is a Pharisee with a respected heritage. The Samaritan woman – how do you describe five marriages? – she’s had a difficult past!
Nicodemus tells us that he has seen signs and knows that Jesus “is from God.” When the Samaritan woman meets Jesus she is meeting a perfect stranger.
Nicodemus takes the initiative to find Jesus, but under the cover of night. The Samaritan woman is approached by Jesus under the bright sun of high noon.
Nicodemus is orthodox religion. The Samaritan woman is a despised heresy.
Nicodemus’ has an impeccable academic pedigree. She is a Samaritan outcast.
He is Nicodemus; that’s his name. She is an unnamed Samaritan woman.
In other words: the Samaritan woman and Nicodemus are moving in opposite directions which makes the endings so surprising.
In his story Nicodemus is very visible at the outset. He comes asking questions, making observations, expressing opinions, looking for conversation. But, by the story’s end Nicodemus has disappeared, vanished, faded into the shadows of the night. Like Edmund in Narnia. The four children: Edmund, Peter, Susan, and Lucy, in the Beaver’s home. After substantial conversation Mr. Beaver asks, “Where is Edmund?” “Where did Edmund go?” Why, he slipped away in the midst of the conversation, backed into shadows, faded into the wall paper, out of sight, like Nicodemus. Look for Nicodemus at the end of chapter three and he’s not there. You won’t find him. He’s left. He’s gone. He slipped away.
But watch the Samaritan woman at the end of her story. She leaves her water pot, walks into town, strikes up conversation with the towns’ folk. Very visible. Very verbal. A witness for Jesus.
Very different endings, Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman. I report this only because, given the neighborhood and my own expectations, it is such a surprise. I didn’t expect it.
That’s my first series of slides: the neighborhood, the contrasts and the surprising endings.
The second series of slides feature the well. The well by itself. The woman by the well. Jesus at the well. Jesus and the woman in conversation at the well.
Once inside the World Imagined in John’s gospel I discovered another surprise. I brought with me and put on a pair of “Jewish glasses,” to help me see from a Jewish point of view. I didn’t wear them long. I soon discovered I didn’t even need my reading glasses. All I needed was my memory of the Old Testament tales of people at wells.
What got me started was hearing Jesus say to the woman at the Well, “Give me a drink,” which reminded me of the story of Isaac and Rebekah. Remember? Abraham sends his servant out to find a wife for his son, Isaac. The servant soon finds himself at a well and he prays, “O God of heaven, may it happen that when I approach a maiden and request, ‘Give me a drink’ that the person who replies, ‘Yes my Lord, and may I give drink to your camels, as well,’ may this be the person you have appointed to be Isaac’s wife.” No sooner do the words out of his mouth he is standing before young Rebekah and says, “Give me a drink,” and she replies, “yes my Lord and may I give drink to your camels as well.” Isaac and Rebekah at the well.
Do you remember the story of Jacob and Rachel? They meet at the well. Jacob strolls up to the mouth of the well, rolls away the boulder covering the opening to the well, kisses his future wife. Jacob and Rachel at the well. You might have thought that already, knowing this is Jacob’s Well.
Now our minds are off and running. Remember how Moses met Zipporah? At the well!
Like an Old Testament highlight reel starring the Patriarchs and Moses. Woman at the well. Man approaches her asking for water. What do you expect? A marriage proposal!
Isaac and Rebekah.
Jacob and Rachel.
Moses and Zipporah.
And now, Jesus approaches the Samaritan woman asking for a drink.
What? Are we to take this literally?
Nicodemus would have, “Born Again? Do you mean enter my mother’s womb a second time and be born?”
Disciples would have, “Master, take some food.” “I have food of which you do not know.” “Who brought him bread?”
Paul is easier to hear. He says, “The Church is the bride of Christ.” Jesus is looking for a church. He comes looking for persons to believe and follow and be his witnesses. And what is so astonishing, is that this is precisely what the woman does. She says to the town folk, “Come see a man who has told me everything I have done.” A Witness. An evangelist for Christ.
The next slide shows me trying to enter the world imagined in John. I’m standing there ready to check two large, dated, light brown suitcases. I’m trying to carry my baggage into the text with me. But, when security wands the baggage, they find a problem. When they look further they discover that the problem is my assumption with the phrase, “Married 5 times.” I have assumed that this woman is an immoral woman. Married 5 times. Married and divorced, married and divorced, married and divorced, married and divorced, married and divorced and now shacking up with a guy. Immoral woman. A sinner. That’s what I think.
Of course that’s what we think, going in. Neighbor lady tells you, “I’ve been married five times and the man I’m living with is not my husband.” Uh-oh! What do you think? Trouble . . . Red Flag . . . Stay away if you know what’s good for you.
Or, your friend at work confides in you, “My daughter has been married five times . . . and the man she is now living with . . . is not her husband.” What do you say? You say, “I’m so sorry.”
Sorry for who?
“We’re sorry for our friend. To have such a daughter.”
That’s what I assumed before I walked through customs. I assumed she probably cheated on the first husband. Then she remarried and “traded up.” I assumed she had a guy who made $30,000 and found a man who made $60,000. Or her husband was lazy and she found herself a real go-getter. That’s what I assumed.
I argued with Customs. Customs said, “Jesus didn’t rebuke her.”
I said, “He should have.”
Customs said, “Jesus didn’t pursue it.”
I said, “I would have.”
They let me in, anyway. Tagged my bags. Made me kinda mad, having to check my assumptions
But, once I got inside this world I could hear echoes and allusions of conversations from other stories and conversations in Scripture. Jesus talking about a woman married to a man who dies and she marries a brother, who dies, and she marries the next brother, and so on. Seven brothers, seven husbands, seven funerals. That’s the story circulating in this world.
In this world, both Samaritans and Jews lived with the social security system that when a woman is widowed the nearest of kin has responsibility to marry her. This is the story of Ruth. This is the story of Naomi. This is the story of Tamar. And, this is the story of the Woman at the Well.
This woman isn’t immoral, she’s had one tragedy after another and now is forced to live with a man who doesn’t have the common decency to marry her! The law works in the favor of Nicodemus. Oh, yeah. Nicodemus lives off the law. But, the law isn’t helping this woman.
In this world, Jesus does not pursue and John does not explore the woman’s background. The spotlight, for the moment, is on the woman who perceives that Jesus is a prophet and twice tells the townsfolk “This man has told me everything I’ve done. Might he be the Messiah?”
The Missionary report has its limits. Some things a preacher can’t just report – even with a slide show. There are some things you have to experience for yourself. See for yourself. Hear with your own ears and see with your own eyes. Although I hesitate to bring you into Samaria. Tensions are running high. Like traveling into Palestine or Iran, or the Sudan. Not the place you send your youth group on a summer’s mission trip.
But we fly into Samaria, land of tensions. By the time we get through Security, we aren’t standing on a sandy berm, a safe distance away, under a white canopy shading us from the sun, peering through binoculars. No, we’ve flown into Samaria, driven out to Sychar and now we’re walking out to the well where we see two people in conversation. It’s Jesus and the Samaritan Woman. Once we get within earshot, the woman is talking. Listen to what she says [v. 20].
Look at her, she’s facing Jesus. Look at her face.
“She is serious,” you say.
She is and you would be, too. She’s not dodging Jesus’ personal comments. Just the opposite. Jesus has revealed something only a prophet could know. And if, as she says, he is a prophet, why . . . . she has opportunity to ask the one question that burns hottest . . . troubles her most . . . the one question closest to her heart. The hottest topic and greatest controversy, the issue that’s on everyone’s mind. Jesus says, “The hour is coming and is here” when our worship will not be bound by place and people,
not in this mountain,
not in this city,
not in this country,
this building,
We worship God in Spirit and Truth. Pnemma and alethia. Listen to that. Alethia, truth . . . has a certain tone, a resonance.
Listen to the resonance of the word, truth, in John. “The law came through Moses, grace and truth (alethia) were realized through Jesus Christ” (1:17).
Put away your duct tape and rope. You can’t take this language prisoner and transport it across the border and use it for your own devices. Listen to language’s tone and how it performs in the Gospel of John.
Jesus says, “I am the way the truth (alethia) the life” (14:6).
You can’t kidnap the truth. The truth will set you free!
The truth isn’t abstract, it is a real live person. The truth isn’t just intellectual, it is personal. The truth isn’t just mental, it is personified in Jesus, embodied in a human being, Jesus. Jesus said, “I am the truth (alethia).” Alethia is always connected to Jesus Christ, in this world.
Which is why Pilate’s rhetorical question near the end of the gospel is so ironic. Pilate, standing before Jesus, “What is truth?” Pilate says. What is truth? You’re looking at him, Pilate!
Truth is robust and nuanced and complicated. But, I can say this with perfect clarity: In this world Truth has everything to do with Jesus, it is personal.
Watch now as the Disciples return to the well. In the foreground, the disciples, absent for the entire dialogue, burst upon the scene, the smell of travel on their clothes, the odor of the market, the aroma of bread. The arriving Disciples break the conversation, end the discussion, measure the woman, and think about food.
But, the woman now is moving away, she leaves her water pot and walks into the background. Look at her. She has such a purpose when she turns, confidence in her walk, determination in her stride. She is moving off and into the background.
And the disciples, unaware of all that has just happened, move in and take over, force the conversation to start over again. Bread? is it literal? No, it’s not and so on.
But, the woman is nearly out of sight now. She is back in Sychar telling the townsfolk that Jesus may well be the Messiah. You can’t see her now, but she’s convinced some and others are coming out to see for themselves, moving in for the final chorus.
This scene is so ironic.
The Samaritan woman leaves her literal water pot to speak of the living water at the very moment the Disciples begin to talk about literal bread.
Ironic that the woman is off preaching while the men busy themselves with Potluck.
Ironic that she evangelizes while the Disciples are being taught that “the fields are white unto harvest.”
But, the bigger irony is that for 2000 years we’ve not seen the woman as Jesus sees her. We dismissed her as a loose woman . . . called her an airhead who changes the topic when the conversation heats up . . . . We said, “She forgot her Water Pot!”
The biggest irony is that Jesus, before our own eyes, treats the Samaritan Woman as a full human being, as a serious conversation partner, as a successful evangelist, as a person capable of seeing the true identity of Jesus and acting more appropriately than anyone else in this neighborhood.
What drives this woman? Listen to her. She says, “Jesus knows everything about me . . . . Might he be the Messiah?”
It’s exactly what got to Nathaniel earlier, “How did you know me?”
As the disciples are maneuvering into position, we stand before Jesus, who knows us, too. He knows our worst fears, our greatest hopes, our saddest moments, our deepest longings.
Jesus looks us, square in the eyes and says, “You’re looking for a church, aren’t you? A community that will help you live and help you die; provide meaning and people to love, for your children and grandchildren. A church loyal to your past and can help you follow me today. Is that what you thirst for?”
We say, “Yes, it is.”
And Jesus says, “And your first choice is Nicodemus, with his influence?”
“You think Pilate would be a catch? You want his insider power?
“You’re hoping for someone with deep pockets to finance the programs you think you need. Is this what you want?”
He is a Prophet and we drop our heads and confess, “Yes, That is our fantasy. That is how we dream. That is the church we think we want.”
He’s caught us. He needn’t say anything more. He’s selected the least likely of all people for his church. A Samaritan in the worst of circumstances; A woman with a torturous past; with so many other attractive options nearby.
Jesus takes the initiative with us as well, and encourages us and walks with us, and points toward Sychar to the first member of the Church in Samaria, the Bride of Christ, the Samaritan woman, Jesus’ witness in the world, whom we can no longer see, who has effectively taken our eyes off her and cast them back on Jesus!
I am reminded of the battles between people. Race relations in this country, the notion of racial purity and ethnic wars in Rwanda and Croatia, the vicious hatred in the Middle East at this very hour, which all have their roots in the same fears that divided Jews and Samaritans.
But, Jesus crosses boundaries, and tears down walls, sets aside old categories, and looks for new possibilities, and encourages us to learn from him to make for ways of peace and unite and stop acting as we’ve been programmed, to fight and divide.
The Samaritan woman sent the townsfolk out to see Jesus for themselves, and they would spend two days with him, learning his ways, learning to follow him. And so, as she was on that day, the Samaritan woman is our preacher today, who sends us to Jesus to stay with him a few days, learn his ways. To learn the ways of this one who taught us to engage people like the Samaritan woman, to care for the marginalized, to give to those least likely to return the favor. That is when we meet Jesus at the Well, when we become the bride of Christ, who is the savior of the world. That is when we begin to worship in Spirit and Truth.
David Fleer
Covenant Presbyterian
Westchester, California
May 4, 2008
