March 23 -- Third Sunday in Lent

Listen to this sermon HERE.

“Come and meet the One who knows everything about me...and loves me anyway.”  

Last week, we heard from John’s Gospel of the conversation with a man under the cover of deep darkness, and of the grace that those moments can offer.  Today, we hear of a conversation

"Woman at the Well" by Daphna Russell

with Jesus at the polar opposite time of day: at noon.  The sun is the highest and the hottest.  The light is the greatest.  

Last week, Jesus met a man at the center of power, at the center of temple life in the ancient Jewish world, a Pharisee, a man with a name: Nicodemus...by night.  Today, Jesus meets a woman on the edge, on the fringe, a Samaritan, who doesn’t even worship at the temple in Jerusalem.  And her name is not even mentioned.

It’s a wonderful and stark contrast from last week’s Gospel to this week’s, where we find Jesus in these one-to-ones.  

Honesty and making change and turn-turn-turning back to God have been some of our themes this Lenten season 2014, and Jesus’ conversation today with the Samaritan woman draws us right back into those themes.

The woman at the well has, for many years, been assumed to be a prostitute or a harlot, even as we have no concrete evidence that this is the case.  Some have assumed that since she has had 5 husbands, that it must be because she gets around.  But in recent years, some scholars and theologians have wondered differently.  Maybe she’s lost 5 husbands, to disease or war.  Or, in that day in age, a man could permissibly divorce and literally throw his wife out for just about any reason...sometimes for not bearing children.  And being cast out, made a woman ritually unclean to the whole community.  Maybe this why she is at the well by herself, at the least favorable time of day.  If we had to draw water from wells, we’d probably all want to go in the morning or the evening when it was cooler.  She’s been relegated.

This woman was hurting.  No question.  She could have been grieving, she could have been physically battered and bruised.  And even promiscuity was part of her story, she no doubt had a painful story.  And she was “at the edge” in many ways.  A woman, a Samaritan, and divorced -- the imagery of “other” couldn’t be more blunt for the first hearers of John’s Gospel.  It always helps, when we’re talking about Samaritans, to think of who your Samaritan is today -- Muslims, atheists, evangelicals, liberals, conservatives, Russians, homosexuals, rich people, poor people, certain family members you can’t stand...it’s always helpful when we talk about Samaritans to draw our own lines, honestly, and remember that Jesus is always there on the other side of the divisions that we make among ourselves...talking with the 5x-divorced, Samaritan woman.  

And the site of this extra-ordinary meeting is this ancient well, Jacob’s well, a place still supplying water, just as it did centuries ago for Jacob and his flocks!  Since the fourth century this has been one of the KEY baptismal texts for Christians.  Many baptismal fonts in Europe and the Middle East, Northern Africa (and in some of our churches too) are designed to resemble a well.  There is still water coming from the well, in the place where Jesus meets us!  

Jesus reaches out to this woman--and to all who are outcast and hurting, all whose histories are messy and painful--Jesus offers healing, peace, truth and love.

And just as there is grace in the darkness--as we were reminded last week--there is incredible grace in bringing things to light...in bringing our stuff out into the open before Christ.  The work of repentance might start down deep in the darkness, down deep in the soil, as the Spirit nudges us and stirs us for change.  But that means certain things are going to come to light, as growth happens [my tiny aloe vera plant in the front yard: peeking out].  Out of the deep, peaceful darkness, certain things come to light (the woman at the well). 

We remember this--not just in Lent--but every week (maybe even daily) as we offer our confession and ask for God’s forgiveness.  During this Lenten season we’re saying these words at the beginning of every service, we’re coming out into the light and saying, “We confess that we have turned away from you and from our neighbors and in toward ourselves.  We have sought security in possessions and the place of power in relationships.  We have trusted ourselves most of all.”  There it is, bringing it out, into the light.  (Take this home with you and say it every day -- Luther.)  Maybe another way of saying this, “We’ve had 5 husbands,” which is another way of saying, “Lord, we are grieving and hurting; lead us back to you.  Forgive us for what we’ve done wrong -- for the things for which we must take responsibility.  Comfort us in our pain and sorrow -- in the things over which we have no control.  And, God, guide us back to you, guide us back outward (not inward) to be your people to the strange and the strangers of this world.”

The woman at the well...at the end of the day, you’ve just gotta love the scene of Jesus talking with a person who is so vastly different.  I had a friend once who would just talk to any body, who would have just about anyone feeling like a friend by the end of the time you spent with him.  Some of you are like that.  And I imagine must of us know people like that.  (My grandpa’s like that too -- he loves just chatting with strangers.)  

But in those simple exchanges, the most profound occurs: strangers become friends, the enemy is indeed destroyed--dissolved with kindness and respect.  And in those simple exchanges we re-enact in a tiny way God’s very healing, God’s very reconciling work, and God’s very incarnation, God’s very coming to meet us here and now in the person of Jesus, who knows everything about us...and loves us anyway.

There is still water coming from the well, gushing even from the rocks.  Forgiveness, new life, hope for a broken world.  Living water gushes and cleanses us now and nourishes us for faithfulness into eternity.  Jesus meets us and sees us plainly again this day, all our faults and blemishes clear in the light of day...and loves us anyway.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.