“Living Questions and Living Water”

For what are you thirsty?

I’ve always been thirsty for books. . .When I was about thirteen, I was exploring my father’s office (he was a pastor), waiting for him to be done with a meeting.  His books were varied and interesting.   A book on his desk was open to the passage we heard today.   Actually, it was a Biblical commentary on John 4, and the story of the woman at the well.   Until that day, I didn’t even realize that there were whole books written to explain scripture, as commentaries are.  I was fascinated by the analysis (and it probably was one of the things that tweaked my interest in ministry, though I wasn’t conscious of it at the time.)   What caught my interest was the strong language used to describe the woman.  I’ve recently looked up that passage again and found it in a sermon by preacher John Piper.  He wrote that she is a “worldly, sensually-minded, unspiritual harlot from Samaria.”  Really?  At thirteen, I was captivated!  All of THAT is in the Bible?  Is that really what this passage is about?

Maybe it is . . . but maybe not.  This line of thinking has certainly been a common theme in sermons for decades.  Fred Craddock wrote about  preachers  on the Samaritan woman: “Evangelists aplenty have assumed that the brighter her nails, the darker her mascara and the shorter her skirt, the greater the testimony to the power of the converting word.  Moralizers . . .have painted her as dangerous:  beware her seductive ways, her mincing walk, her eyes waiting in ambush.”

As I read it—there is nothing in the passage that makes this an obvious interpretation.  Jesus never invites repentance.  He doesn’t even mention sin.  This woman could have very easily been widowed or abandoned or divorced by her husband (which in the ancient world was pretty much the same thing for a woman.)  Five times would have been heartbreaking—but not impossible.   She could have been living with someone she was dependent upon (or in a Levirate marriage where a childless woman is married to her deceased husband’s brother in order to produce an heir—and is not technically considered the brother’s wife.)

Historically, Christian scriptures (as well as other traditions), have sometimes been used to uphold misogyny—the distrust of women.  And it seems that Christianity and maybe religions in general, focus chiefly upon morality.  But perhaps this passage is not about morality, but about identity.    And just maybe the issue of morality has been a distraction from the challenging example of Jesus crossing racial, ethnic, gender and religious boundaries to have a deeply authentic conversation with a woman he should have avoided.  Human-created boundaries should have kept the woman and Jesus from even meeting alone and talking, but those barriers are completely disregarded by Jesus.   Equally radical was her response.

What was life-changing for the woman was, according to her, that she has been entirely known by him, and this being known has enabled her to know him.    She joyfully drops what she is doing and leaves her water jars behind to share with her community her powerful witness.  She becomes a bearer of good news—a channel of living water to others.

“God is not on the mountain,” Jesus said. “God is in your thirst.  God is not in the temple, but in the cry of your spirit, and it cries to me.  Ask  me, ask me, for a drink.”

She said “yes.”  She asked.  Like water that gushes from a fresh stream, the living water, is the power of God’s spirit, transforming through love and recognition.  The Samaritan woman receives love and lives into a new identity.  This passage evokes a well-spring of joyful potential, just like courtship and marriage.  And allusions to marriage and hope abound.

The encounter of Jesus and the woman at the well would most have certainly reminded the first hearers of stories from Hebrew scripture:  the meeting at the well that led Isaac to marry Rebecca.  (Jesus’ words to the woman:  “Give me a drink” echo the words spoken to Rebecca, at the well:  “Please let me sip a little water from your jar.”)  The first listeners would have been reminded of the encounter at the well, and eventual marriage of Jacob to Rachel.  Also, the  meeting of Moses and Zipphorah at the well.  In the passage just preceding today’s, John the Baptist proclaimed that he himself is the friend of the bridegroom, and that Jesus is the groom.

All of this points back to the first miracle story in John:  the wedding feast at Cana, and the water into wine.  It’s mysterious and it’s about joyful union.  But in this case, the “wedding” joy is Jesus’ bonding--not to a single “bride” --but to the Samaritans, who met Jesus through the woman.  The good news is Messianic.  It is good news of salvation, like salve, a healing balm—not just for the Judeans, but for everyone.

“God is not on the mountain,” Jesus says. “God is in your thirst.  God is not in the temple, but in the cry of your spirit, and it cries to me.  Ask me, ask me, for a drink.”

God’s love can’t be contained by human  barriers.  Even across the obstacles of racism, misogyny, poverty; even across the divide of religious disputes—in meeting Christ, new life springs forth in love.

“God is Spirit and those who worship God must worship in spirit and truth.”  Worship  is about relationship, dwelling in the vine Jesus.

Preacher Fred Craddock noted that John immortalized the woman by giving to her witness, a name which is the very term with which he began the Gospel. The Greek text reads, the Samaritan woman, spoke "the Word."  She is a bearer of the good news, and we can learn from her.   Her telling of good news is inviting.  She says, “Come and see!”   Her evangelism is not judgmental.   It is honest with its own uncertainty; it is for everyone who will hear.   Her witness avoids mouthing someone else’s packaged answers to unasked questions.  She avoids thinly veiled ultimatums and threats of hell.  She humbly avoids assumptions of certainty.  She shows her willingness to let her hearers arrive at their own affirmations about Jesus, and they do.  They say "This is indeed the Savior of the world."

“God is not on the mountain,” Jesus says. “God is in your thirst.  God is not in the temple, but in the cry of your spirit, and it cries to me.  Ask me, ask me, for a drink.”

It’s not about what we know but about who knows us!

When the light of Jesus’ love shines on our past and our future, we may then have the courage to drop anything that isn't that, and go share what we know.  (Not what someone else knows, just what we know).  We are to be witnesses to God’s abundant grace gushing up to life in us.

Over the past couple of weeks, haven’t we been thirsty with questions?    Why is there so much suffering in our world?  Why do we war?  Why do human beings create situations that make natural disasters even more devastating?

J. Collins, an American living in Sendai, Japan, near the epicenter of the earthquake and tsunami, recently wrote a letter about how his friends in Sendai are helping each other, and him.  He wrote, “I am now staying at a friend’s home.  We share supplies like water, food and a kerosene heater.  We sleep lined up in one room, eat by candlelight, share stories.  It is warm, friendly and beautiful.  During the day, we help each other clean up the mess in our homes. . . If someone has water running in their home, they put out a sign so people can fill up their jugs and buckets. . . It is utterly amazing that where I am there has been no looting, no pushing in lines.  People leave their front door open, as it is safer when an earthquake strikes.  People keep saying, “Oh, this is how it used to be in the old days when everyone helped one another.”

Another voice from Japan is that of  Ryu Murakami,  author of “Popular Hits of the Showa Era.” His article was translated from the Japanese.  He said:

“Ten years ago I wrote a novel in which a middle-school student, delivering a speech before Parliament, says: “Japan has everything. You can find whatever you want here. The only thing you can’t find is hope.”

Murakami continued:  “One might say the opposite today: evacuation centers are facing serious shortages of food, water and medicine; there are shortages of goods and power in the Tokyo area as well. Our way of life is threatened, and the government and utility companies have not responded adequately.

But for all we’ve lost, hope is in fact one thing we Japanese have regained. The great earthquake and tsunami have robbed us of many lives and resources. But we who were so intoxicated with our own prosperity have once again planted the seed of hope. So I choose to believe.”

Are you thirsty for hope?  For community?  For safety, security?  For love?  For  peace?
Jesus says. “God is in your thirst.    God is in the cry of your spirit, and it cries to me.  Ask me, ask me, for a drink.”