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Lenten Series: See I Make All Things New #2 Jesus Encounters the Samaritan Woman The woman wasn’t worth spit. Literally. First, she was a woman. In a culture where women were merely a possession, part of the herd. Second, she was a Samaritan. To a young Jewish teacher, these half breeds symbolized the sin of the Northern tribes who were lost to the Assyrian conquest, dispersed throughout the northern land, intermarried with others from those regions that corrupted their religion and their race. And finally, she had a bad reputation. A five time loser when it came to marriage, and now, perhaps giving up on marriage altogether, simply taking up spending her days and nights with yet another man. A woman would be overlooked. A Samaritan would be spit upon. One with such an immoral line of relationships would be shunned. But to be all three....didn’t warrant the spit that one would waste on her. And this woman, this Samaritan woman, this Samaritan woman of many men, this woman who wasn’t worth spit, came in the noon day sun to Jacob’s well near the city of Sychar to draw water. Why in the mid day? The town well was a gathering place in the evening. When women of the area gathered to visit and exchange gossip. When available young men came down to ask the pretty girls for a drink. In the cool of the day, the well was a hub of activity. But not at noon. Not with the sun beating down on your neck. That’s when this woman came for her water. Why? The same reason a person avoids the coffee shops at mid-morning I reckon. The same reason a person shops at the 24 hour market in the middle of the night. The same reason a person might wear sunglasses on a cloudy day. To avoid being seen. To hide. To disappear. To avoid contact. Is it any wonder she came to the well in the middle of the hot day. When no one was there. When, without trouble she could pull up her bucket of water and be on her way. So that she could avoid anyone who might like to cluck their tongue and shake their head, guess about whose bed she is sleeping? As she made her way to the well, this woman who wasn’t worth spit noticed someone else was at the well after all. Did she slow her gait? A young man, sitting near the well. I imagine she thought she would just have to walk up, get her water and walk away without a word. She could do it. She’d been doing it for what seemed like forever. Acting as if she didn’t see. Acting as if she didn’t hear. Turning her eyes. Quickly stepping away. As she approached....he spoke. Spoke...to her. Directly...to her. “Woman, please, a drink.” She must have noticed the prayer shawl under his clothing. His features. His eyes. She knew instantly--“How is it that you would ask me for a drink since you are a Jewish man and I am a Samaritan woman?” The words were out before she realized the breach she had made in returning his conversation. The Jew then looked at her, looked into her, and said, “Woman, if you knew who it was who asked you for a drink, you would have asked him for a drink, and he would have given you living water.” This fellow had a funny way of putting things. Living water. Naturally, water makes all things live. The plants, the livestock. Humans and all things...thrive only when water is in fresh supply. “But you don’t have a bucket, a bag, nothing to draw water with,” she said. “Jacob dug this well, our father, whose sons and flocks have drunk from it. It’s a good well.” Perhaps she even held up her own jar to show that she had something to draw with. “It’s a good well. But everyone who drinks this water will become thirsty again before long. But there is another kind of water. The water I give--and those who drink it will never be thirsty again. Because this water...THIS water that I give will become like a spring of water—a spring, gushing up inside that person, overflowing forever. Don’t you imagine his offer sounded awfully good to her--the notion of never having to endure the shame of coming to this public well again? Never having to bear her heavy jar in the noon day sun to escape the calls and gossip. “Give me some of that water,” she caught herself blurting, “so that I won’t ever have to come back here.” She was thirsty for the water, she was thirstier still for relief, for something new. And as the young Jew talked about fountains of water springing up from inside of her...well...it had been a long time since her dry soul had thought that was possible. A thirsty woman who wasn’t worth spit, offered now a fresh, cool, satisfying drink, not only for her contentment—but then some. A drink so deep it would fill her up, then spring forth from within her, flowing out from her, touching the dry, thirsty souls of others. “I want it, she said. I want it...give me the water.” The story goes on. Jesus asks about her husband. The words sting. Perhaps he was just like all the hometown folks after all. Wanting to make her feel small. Dirty. Yet, there is something about His compassion as he speaks the brutal truth to her. A compassion that causes her to open. “Five husbands, all gone. And the man you are with now, he won’t marry you, will he?” Jesus says to her. And an interesting thing occurs. This talk about her past, about her morality, about her situation, leads her into recognizing that this is a spiritual matter. She begins to question the Jewish and Samaritan practices of worship. That’s the safe way to ask the spiritual question. Sure it is. You’ve heard others do it. Maybe you’ve done it yourself. Not sure how to get into a real spiritual conversation, one asks something like, “so, you’re a Lutheran…what do Lutheran’s believe about….” Or “you go to the Assembly of God church. Don’t they …..?” That’s what the woman does. “You Jews, you worship in the Jerusalem Temple, and we worship on the mountain…” He looked at her again. “Ah…yes. This is about worship. But it’s not about where. It is about worship, but not about who is right and who is wrong. It is about worshipping God, as God’s people. You want to be one of God’s people, don’t you?” “I know this,” the woman came back. “A savior is coming. A Messiah. The one called the Christ. And when he comes, he will explain everything to us.” And the young Jew looked deeply into her eyes. “I AM explaining everything.....to you. I am he.” Now then, this is the very first time in John’s gospel that Jesus discloses to anyone his identity. Not to his disciples. Not to the religious leaders in Jerusalem. Not to his family. But out here, in Samaria, resting by a well. To a woman, a Samaritan woman, a Samaritan woman with a bad reputation ... who wasn’t worth spit. And you know what happened? The woman’s past begins to drop away, like the dust that clung to her feet, as she begins to drink deeply of the living water being offered to her. Her past was a long story. Like most of our own long stories, ways we try to justify ourselves or refuse to forgive ourselves. Jesus knows all about her past...about our pasts. He knows who she is, but calls her to who she might become. Someone new. Drink deep. It’s time to stop trying to swallow what is "water under the bridge". Fresh, springing, living water was hers for the drinking. And she drank...drank deep and long, quenching her thirst. Until somewhere... from deep inside of her she sensed a new source of something...a new source of excitement, a new source of love....springing up. Gushing forth. Spilling out from her as she dropped her water jar and went running into town. Into town! This woman who was so eager to escape all company, who came at mid-day to the well to avoid company, went running…into town. She never felt so alive! Went running into town, to tell her story. “Come and see,” she implored. “Come and see. I think he is the Christ!” “Come and see.” And the living water flowed. And washed over an entire Samaritan city, the first to hear the news. The Messiah is come. God has heard our cries. And many in that Samaritan town believed in Jesus because of the woman’s story. “Surely this is, the savior of the world!” they said. And the news was out. Because a woman who wasn’t worth spit, was offered the long drink of love, that became a fountain that gushed, and flowed, from her into the world. A woman dry, thirsty soul refreshed, filled and made a brand new instrument of God’s grace, in yet another powerful encounter with Jesus. Of course, this isn’t just a story of a Samaritan woman, it’s the story of any who has ever felt as though they aren’t worth spit. For any who has ever come up dry. For any who has ever wanted to escape the pains and the brokenness of the past. For any of us. For all of us. “Come,” he says to us. “Come, and that which I give will become in you, a spring of living water, rushing forth from you, forever.”
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