Apologies for the length of time between blog posts. College work and children seem to have been getting in the way.
This is the sermon I preached at St Paul’s this morning based on my response to John 4:5-42.
I’m guessing you didn’t come to church this morning expecting to hear a love story. But that’s what we’ve just heard. For the first people to hear this story – those who were used to Hebrew literature – a love story would have been exactly what they were expecting. Love stories happen at wells. You see, the well had long been used as a sort of Match.com. The story of Moses meeting Zipporah, the damsel in distress, hints that wells were used as a kind of singles club. Her father sent her and her sisters there and was concerned when they were back quickly… until he realised they had brought a suitor back too! Jacob met Rachel at a well and Abraham’s servant found Rebekkah for Isaac at a well. So, if you were hearing this during the early days of the spread of the Gospel, you could have been forgiven for thinking that that’s where this story was going too and that John was going to turn out to be an early Mills and Boon writer (do they still do Mills and Boon?) That would be your expectation. But as we know, Jesus isn’t one to conform to our expectations.
Firstly, he is travelling through Samaria. Jews wouldn’t do that unless they absolutely had to. There is a long history of shame projected onto the Samaritans. The Jews hated the ways in which, against the demands of Deuternomy, they intermarried with foreigners and the changes this made to their worship and their loyalties. In Ezra and Nehemiah we hear that they were blamed for the defeat that led to the destruction of the temple about 600 years before this story at the well takes place. Obviously enough, this is a big deal! The blame for the exile had been laid, in part, at their door and so the historical enmity is so strong that any self-respecting Jew would have added a couple of days to their journey rather than risk coming into contact with the people they despised so much.
Secondly, the disciples weren’t with Jesus because they had gone into the city to buy food. Again, this is just not the done thing. It would be shocking to think that they would trade with these people never mind actually eat food that they have handled. Convention and expectation have been thrown to the wind. There can’t be any more shocks in store surely? Hmmm … As Jesus sits, exhausted in the noon day sun, someone approaches the well … And Jesus talks to her and asks her for help. Not just a Samaritan but a woman. This is the hottest part of the day. The last time that most women would have chosen to go outside especially to do heavy work like carrying water back to the village. Most women would have gone in the cooler weather of the morning or the evening. Most women would have chosen the time of day when the work would be more pleasant. Most women would have gone with others and would have spent their time chatting and catching up the news. Most women would have enjoyed the company. But not this woman. As harsh as the noon day sun could be, it seems it wasn’t as harsh as what she was trying to avoid in the company of others. This woman was not most women. This woman was an outcast who felt the need to hide away.
But in the bright light of the Son she couldn’t hide. When Jesus saw her, he saw everything about her. He saw her past with her 5 husbands and saw her current living arrangements. But what he does with this information – or rather what he doesn’t do with it – is hugely interesting. He states it. That’s it. He doesn’t pass judgement or ask for explanations. And she doesn’t feel the need to defend herself. Imagine it. This is a woman who is used to people talking behind her back. She’s used to snide comments. She’s used to people knowing her business and judging her for it. Everyone knows who she is, yet John, in his telling of the story, doesn’t give her a name. Names are so important to us as our identity. And yet, this woman’s identity is tied up in who she is in relation to her race and her moral standing. This is why she avoids company and confrontation. This won’t be the first time that someone she doesn’t know knows something about her. But this time, the information is not offered with values attached to it. The shame that is usually attached to her isn’t necessary here. I believe that is what convinces her that there is something special about this man – that this man has some deep insight to share – This man is the Messiah! Without shame, she goes to the very people she has been trying to avoid and tells them what she has seen and heard. And because of her testimony, her experience of the one true Lord, others see Him too. In John’s account the woman has no name, the Orthodox Church has given her a name: Photini or in Russian, Svetlana – The Enlightened One. She is Equal to the Apostles and celebrated for the way in which she shared the message of the Gospel.
We are at a well and this is a love story. Jesus receives this woman with such love and acceptance. He knows everything about her and yet he doesn’t judge. Who else except your true love can brush aside all the things that you feel ashamed of? This is what the story of the woman at the well says to us today. We all have things we like to hide from others and from ourselves – shame from feeling that we are not perfect. God sees all of that. He knows it and he accepts us. Shame is no longer necessary. We are not defined by who our parents were, what we have done and what we want to hide. We are defined by the love that seeks us out and says “I thirst”. But the message of this morning’s gospel doesn’t end here. Who are our women at the well? We hear so many stories about people who have been hurt or feel rejected by churches and Christians. We hear people saying (and maybe we’ve said it ourselves) “hate the sin but love the sinner”. But what if the person we are talking about feels so defined by the shame of their sin that they can’t feel separate from it? What if what we feel is sin is actually an important part of that person’s identity? How can that person then feel loved? By saying that part of a person cannot be part of our community, we are completely barring that person from the love of our community. Judgement is not ours. Our only task is to love as He loves us. Who is our Svetlana? Who can we meet at the well with love and acceptance, the way we were met at the well and became the Bride of Christ? For, as we heard in the epistle, while we were still weak … Christ died for the ungodly … while we were still sinners Christ died for us.
I’d like to read a notice I once saw on the door of a church. Imagine this on the door of every church. And imagine every church meant it and lived it:
We extend a special welcome to those who are single, married, divorced, gay, filthy rich, dirt poor. We extend a special welcome to those who are carrying new-borns, skinny as a rake or those who could afford to lose a few pounds. We welcome you if you can sing like Andrea Bocelli or if you can’t carry a tune in a bucket. You’re welcome here if you’re “just browsing”, just woke up or just got out of jail. We don’t care if you’re more Catholic than the Pope, or haven’t been in church since little Joey’s baptism. We extend a special welcome to those who are over 60 but not grown up yet, and to teenagers who are growing up too fast. We welcome soccer mums, rowing dads, golfing widows, starving artists, tree-huggers, latte-sippers, vegetarians, junk food eaters. We welcome those who are in recovery or still addicted. We welcome you if you’re having problems or you’re down in the dumps or if you don’t like ‘organized religion’, we’ve been there too. If you blew all your offering money at the dog track, you’re welcome here. We offer a special welcome to those who think the earth is flat, work too hard, don’t work, can’t spell or those who are here because grandma is in town and wanted to go to church. We welcome those who are inked, pierced or both. We offer a special welcome to those who could use a prayer right now, had religion shoved down your throat as a kid or got lost in traffic and wound up here by mistake. We welcome tourists, seekers, doubters, bleeding hearts … and we welcome YOU!
This is what it would be like if God made churches. Amen.
Image of the Woman at the Well by Wayne Forte
Walking The Revolution 