March 27, 2011 - Lent 3

Jesus Gives Living Water
John 4:5-42
Lent 3 – March 27, 2011

This week's gospel story is a world away from what we heard last week. Last week, just one chapter ago, we heard another story of a person's encounter with Jesus – only that one took place under the cover of darkness. This one happens right out in the open, under the bright noonday sun. Nicodemus was a man, a Jew – a leader of the Jewish people, in fact. This woman – well, obviously, she was a woman, a woman the author of John doesn't bother to name, although Jesus spends more time talking with her than with any one other person in this gospel – and this woman was a Samaritan. And not only did Jews not share anything in common with Samaritans, as John's gospel explains, they actually considered each other enemies. And of course, Nicodemus was the epitome of an insider – but this woman at the well, well you can tell from the story that she was anything but. Not only was she the opposite of Jesus – a different religion, different gender, & so outside the group Jesus' disciples might have expected Jesus to reach out to, but if you read between the lines, you get the sense that she was an outsider to her own people, an outcast in her own community.

And you can tell that because she came to the well to draw water at noon. Most women would have come to get water together – in the morning and in the evening when it was cooler. But our woman at the well came alone, at the hottest point of the day. Now there have been many who have said that she was an immoral woman because she comes alone, and because Jesus says she has had 5 husbands and is currently living with a man who is not her husband – but I don't think that's what this story is about. It's possible that she had really bad luck when it came to men – that she had had to bury 5 husbands, or that they had divorced her – and after all, a woman in that day & age was at the mercy of her husband or father – but no matter what the real story was, John gives the impression that this woman was shunned and shamed and separated from the people in her town. She was disconnected, cut off from others. So when she came to the well that afternoon to get the day's water, she was thirsty – not just physically, but spiritually. She longed to know and be known, to be connected, to be cherished, to be loved. She came that day to the well with a soul that was parched.

I imagine that most of us, at one point or another have gone through these parched times of the soul, when we have felt disconnected from the people who matter to us, when we have longed for deeper, more meaningful, more intimate relationships, to know and be truly known. We have known the fear of that kind of vulnerability, remembering the times that we dared to open up and show those hidden parts of ourselves, and maybe were rejected, or looked down on, or judged. Or maybe we just fear that we will be – that if people knew us, really knew who we are deep down inside, with all of our hidden failings and faults, they would turn away. We have all known, as the woman at the well knew, the experience of isolation, of separation. We have felt this kind of thirstiness that leaves us longing for someone to reach out with acceptance and love and refresh our scorched spirits.

And so the Samaritan woman came to the well that day, looking for water, not expecting to find anything more, not daring to hope that there would be anything more there to find. As she draws near to draw her water, she finds herself face to face with Jesus, resting there along his journey from Judea in the south up to Galilee in the north, taking the direct route through Samaria. And though he is Jewish and a man, both facts that should ensure his silence, Jesus dares to reach across the boundaries of their society and speak to her. As they talk, it begins to dawn on the woman that Jesus sees her – beyond her gender, beyond her religion, beyond the fact that she has come to the well by herself at noon – Jesus somehow sees her & knows her – he knows all about her – and yet he doesn't speak to her with condemnation, he doesn't look down on her, he doesn't reject her. He accepts her as she is, and offers her this tremendous gift of living water, the kind of water that gushes up within her and quenches her thirsty soul; this ever-flowing, over-flowing, living water that changes everything & cannot be contained. As she discovers that Jesus knows her, and knowing her, loves her, she receives this gift, experiences it so that she cannot remain where and how she was, but rushes off, leaving her water jar behind. This living water lifts her up & out of herself, carrying her back to her people, the ones she has been set apart and separated from for so long, because what else can she do with this new life, this living water that is gushing up within her and spilling over, but to race back to tell them, to invite them to come and see for themselves the man who told her everything she had ever done?

We too know this longing for connectedness, to be known in the fullness of who we are – with all of our strengths and our weaknesses, our pride and our remorse, our joys & our sorrows – to have someone who knows all about us – the good, the bad, and the ugly, and accepts us just as we are, loves us despite ourselves. And in this story we find ourselves, coming to the well, finding ourselves face to face with Jesus – and discovering there that Jesus already knows everything about us. With him, there is nothing that needs to be covered up or hidden away – and hearing him offer the gift of living water, the water that overcomes our thirst, the water that becomes a spring ever flowing, gushing up, watering our souls, bringing us abundant, over-flowing, eternal life – life given freely, and meant to be shared. Jesus, the Savior of the world invites you to come and drink – and then carry this living water to a world that is dying of thirst.

Amen.