"Living Water, Living Faith"
John 4:4-42
I used to go to the
well in the early morning or at the end of the day, with the other women of the
village. The sun is not so bright then,
and the air is cooler.
The women and girls visit
with one another as they draw water and fill their vessels to take water back
to their homes. There’s a kind of
sisterhood that’s a natural part of the scene at the well. Long ago, I used to
be part of that sisterhood.
But now I am shunned. When I approach the well, the women stop
talking. They look at me, disapproving…rejecting. When I turn to leave, they snicker. How did my life end up like this?
So now I go to the
well at midday. I have become invisible. No one talks to me. You’d think they would be more sympathetic. It could be any of them who lost their
husband, their place in society, their livelihood, and their security. Their husbands could die, and if they don’t
have a son, they could and end up being passed down from one brother to another
in a Levirate marriage. Or their
husbands could divorce them. As women,
we don’t have a lot of control over our lives in these situations.
I’ve wondered if perhaps
my presence reminds them of how fragile their situations are…how vulnerable they
are.
Several days ago, as I approached
the well, I noticed a solitary man sitting there, as if he were waiting for
someone. I was immediately suspicious.
This man was Jewish. But it was very
unusual to see a Jew in Samaria.
You might wonder how I
knew he was a Jew. This is something
that we Samaritans notice. We are taught
at a very young age not to have any relations with the Jews. Jews and Samaritans have hated and mistrusted
each other for centuries. Most Jews try
to avoid our people--they see us as outsiders and heretics. They make wide detours around Samaria when
traveling between Galilee and Judea so that they won’t be contaminated by our
mixed blood.
Jews and Samaritans share the same scriptures--the
Torah. But our holy place is near here,
on Mount Gerazim, and the Jews insist the true center of worship is
Jerusalem. Some time ago, Jewish troops
destroyed our holy shrine on Mount Gerazim.
The Jews are afraid of being
ritually contaminated by any contact with Samaritans.
And yet this Jewish man talked to
me, saying, “Would you give me a drink of water?”
I wondered: How can this be? This Jewish man couldn’t be talking to me-- a
Samaritan! A woman. An observant Jew certainly wouldn’t be
talking with a woman who wasn’t a relative.
He certainly would talk to a nobody like me. I was so startled by his request that I said,
"How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?"
I didn’t know what to think. The man disregarded my question, as it was of
no concern to him. He didn’t seem to care
that I was a Samaritan. He looked at me--
he saw me.
I don’t know when I’ve talked so
much. I’ve been so isolated and
lonely. I don’t know what came over
me. Maybe my nervousness loosened my
tongue. I certainly didn’t expect to
have a long conversation with this man.
But he listened to my question.
He took me seriously. And he
responded:
"If you knew the gift of God,
you could have asked, and he would have given living water."
Well, I didn’t understand what he
was saying. I didn’t know what he meant
by “living water.” But I wanted to keep talking with him. There was just something about him. So, I asked:
"Who
do you think you are? You don't even
have a bucket!
The Jewish man
said to me, "Everyone who drinks of this water from the well will thirst again. But those who drink of the water I give--
which is living water-- will never be thirsty.
The water I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up
eternal life."
I
pondered this puzzling comment and wondered about this "living water". What could he mean? Something about that phrase spoke to me and
reminded me of the thirst I was experiencing in her soul and spirit. Would this mean that I wouldn’t have to come
to the well again?
I hate making the lonely, shameful
trips to the well every day. To never be
thirsty again-- that sounded wonderful to me!
I pleaded for him to give me this living water: "Sir, give me this water that I may
never be thirsty."
"All right,” he said. “Go call your husband."
There it was. I was sure then he would treat me like the
rest of the town does. Once he found out
I have no husband, I’d be back where I started.
What was I supposed to say to him-- that I had been in five marriages
and now was with a man who would take care of me but wouldn’t marry me? I felt trapped…shamed. But I told the man the truth: “I have no
husband.”
"That's right,” he said. “You have no husband. You've had five husbands, and the one you're
with now is not your husband. You told
the truth when you said you have no husband."
Somehow, when the man said it, I
didn’t hear the judgment and scorn that has been my life these past years. It sounded more like he was naming my pain,
the way our society has passed me from man to man until I no longer have even
the dignity of marriage.
I wonder: How does he know this about my life? “You’re some kind of PROPHET-- aren’t you?”
I don’t know what got into me. We kept talking. He told me the most extraordinary thing. He knew that Samaritans worshipped God at
Mount Gerazim, while the Jews worshipped God in Jerusalem. That is just one of the ways that our two
peoples disagree. But Jesus told me that
none of that mattered anymore. What was important was to worship God
in an attitude of spirit and truth. God
is not confined to one place.
Well, if that were to happen-- we could all worship God in a way that
doesn’t divide us into enemies.
I could begin to imagine a God who
valued all people, regardless of where they worshipped or which tribe they were
from, or whether their neighbors thought they were worthless. At least I longed for such a God. I longed for a God who would give me water
when I was thirsty. I long for a God who
loves everybody--even nobodies like me.
Eventually I said, “Well, such deep
subjects. When the Messiah gets here,
he’ll explain all this deep stuff to us.
When Messiah comes, far in a future time. But not here.
Not now.”
But the man at the well said: “The
hour is coming and is now here. I am the
Messiah--the Christ. The Anointed One.”
Then I knew: this man was offering me the very water that
I needed to sustain me. Living water
that gives life! I had to tell someone--
everyone!
I left my jug by the well and ran
into town. I ran back into town and told
people, “Come and see! There is a man at
the well who has told me everything I have done! He can’t he be the Messiah--can he?”
The people all ran to the well. They
listened to me and believed me! They were even talking to me!
The people who’d been traveling with
the man had come back to the well with some food they’d bought and they tried
to get him to eat something. But he said
to them, “I have food to eat that that you don’t know about. My food is to do the will of the one who sent
me and to complete his work.”
We didn’t understand what he was
talking about, especially when he talked about fields and sowing and
harvesting.
Many of the people from our city
believed in the man. They said it was
because of what I’d said: “He told me everything I have ever done.”
They invited him and his friends to
spend some time with us. And they did. They stayed for two days.
I found out that his name was Jesus. He treated me as a fellow human being that
deserved the grace of God simply because I was living on this earth.
I came to believe that my life has
value, and so did my neighbors. They
began to treat me with respect and made me feel like I was one of them.
They came to hear Jesus because of
my testimony. But then they heard the
good news for themselves-- the good news of God’s love and eternal life for us
all. We have life that is nourished with
living water.
Thanks be to God!
Rev.
Fran Hayes, Pastor
Littlefield
Presbyterian Church
Dearborn,
Michigan
March
19, 2017
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