A Reflection on John 4:5-42
In many parts of the developing world people walk miles to and from
wells to collect enough water to meet their basic needs: water to drink, to
wash their clothes, to wash their dishes, and to bathe. Women are usually the
ones who make these exhausting journeys, often digging the holes in the ground
in the sweltering heat of midday. After all their efforts, the water they draw
is only a few gallons. The water is precious, hard-earned, and has to sustain
them until the following day’s journey. In many parts of the developing world,
the water people draw from the wells doesn’t come clean and filtered like ours.
Instead it is clouded by dirt and polluted with dangerous contaminants. The
water they must drink to sustain their lives is the very same water that makes
them sick, and is often life-threatening. Some of the water’s contaminants can
be easily detected by taste or odor, but most can’t be detected easily, and
require testing to reveal whether or not it is safe to drink. The unsafe water
can take a terrible toll on human health. This problem is serious and
widespread. So when so many families and children in developing countries are
crying out, “Give me a drink” organizations like Living Waters for the World
and Water.org answer by donating their resources and manpower to give them
clean water systems and safe wells. Not only are they restoring the physical
health of whole communities, they are also restoring the dignity, hope, and
freedom of the people who live there. When they go to the new well, they find
nothing less than new life.
When we come to the well at Sychar in this gospel text, we meet a
woman who knows something about exhausting, back-breaking journeys. Her whole
life revolves around wells. Other women remain at home with their families
during the hottest part of the day because they can go to the well together in
the cooler mornings. They can talk as they walk, sharing stories of their
children and their husbands. But not this nameless Samaritan woman. She waits
until the hottest part of the day to go to the well because that’s when no one
else will be there. No one will be there to shun her, to whisper about her
behind her back, or to shame her for her culturally unacceptable relationship.
She intentionally spends her days alone, moving through her mindless routines,
remaining on the edges of her community, both literally and spiritually.
When she sees Jesus—this Jewish religious leader—her usual shame grows into
confusion, and even some aggravation. Now she is not only confronted with her
complicated marital status, but also with the shame of being a woman who is
talking with a man—a huge no no. Beyond that, she was a Samaritan woman talking with a Jewish
man—absolutely unacceptable! The Samaritans and the Jews shared no social
interaction since the Samaritans built a shrine as their place of worship,
instead of worshiping at the Jerusalem Temple—the one true place of worship.
The Jewish troops had destroyed the shrine, and were strengthening an already
existing dividing wall between themselves and the Samaritans. Talking to a
Samaritan was as good as insulting God. So when Jesus shows up in broad
daylight at her well saying, “Give me a drink” all kinds of boundaries are
crossed. As far as the Jewish community was concerned this Samaritan woman was
contaminated, and so was her well.
Most of us in the first world don’t have to walk out in the heat of day
to a well to get our water. In fact, most of us enjoy filtered water every day.
We don’t have to worry about contamination or water-borne illnesses. We don’t
live in a country that prescribes who we can talk to and who is off-limits.
It’s hard for most of us to imagine being in the Samaritan woman’s shoes. But
we all go to other kinds of wells to quench our spiritual thirst. We go to the
well of Success, believing that we will be filled with a sense that we are
important. We say, “give me a drink,” hoping that our thirst for identity will
be quenched. We go to the well of People-pleasing, seeking others’ approval. We
empty ourselves until we have nothing left saying, “give me a drink,” hoping
that our thirst for belonging will be quenched. We go to the well of power,
seeking control over people and the circumstances of our lives. We strategize and
plan saying “give me a drink,” hoping that our thirst for security will be
quenched.
We go to the well of
consumerism, believing that if we have enough, we will be enough. We say, “give me a drink,” hoping that our thirst for
purpose will be quenched. These spiritual wells are contaminated with illusions
that trick us into thinking that if we do the right things, act the right way,
or have the right stuff, we will be whole. We will fit in. God will love us.
Instead Jesus shows up at the well saying “Give me a drink. Let me
taste this water you are drinking and see why it has such a strong hold on you.
And while we are sharing this water, let’s talk about your life—since that’s
really what I’m here for anyway." We can’t live without water. We need to come
to the well. What Jesus asks of the Samaritan woman, and what he asks of us, is
to receive fullness of life beginning now.
The water filter Jesus invites us to receive filters out all of the world’s
contaminating messages about how we need to be more, do more, and have more to be deserving of God’s love. God
doesn’t wait until we are perfect, acceptable, or whole to come to us. God
crosses all boundaries to get to us—our dividing lines, our limited traditional
understanding of who we should include and exclude, our categories of status
and power, our unwillingness to believe that we are enough. God breaks through
all of those boundaries, in broad daylight, in front of all the VIPs, to show
the Samaritans and the Jewish people that God comes, not just for the
Israelites, but for the gentiles too. God comes, not just for the people we
like and who believe the same things we do, but even for those we consider our
enemies.
Jesus’ presence at the well fills us with the kind of water that
nourishes our Holy Imagination. He asks her, and us, to receive what he is
offering, even before she fully understands it, and acknowledge her need of him.
This is our invitation during Lent—to come to the well as we are and to
meet Christ there. We are asked to pause and reflect on all of the boundaries
we erect between ourselves and others, and between ourselves and God. We are
invited to go beyond the surface level of our lives—beyond our physical needs
and rhythms of our daily routines—and arrive at the truth about our lives. When
we can do this, whether it happens in a church or in our car, we worship. When
the Samaritan woman asks Jesus where she should worship, His very presence at
the well is meant to be her answer. His promise transcends this place, this
time, this well, or a particular temple. His promise is his presence. His promise is a way of living and believing that is sustaining, not draining.
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