The Church of the Ascension
February 24, 2008

In the name of God: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  AMEN.

This has been a heavy week for me with more on my mind than usual.  Translated that means that there have been numerous seductive distractions to keep me from writing my sermon – another person to call or visit, a note that just had to be written, a bill to be studied and then paid, a decision to be considered again and again, a Law and Order episode that should not be missed, a snack upon which my life depended.  You name it – it took my attention!  Further translation reveals this stark fact: late yesterday afternoon found me not in the tweaking-my-sermon mode, which is my usual state on Saturday afternoon, but the getting-it-written-before-panic-descends stage!

Part of the problem this week is that the gospel passage is so rich and full that choosing just a couple of major points is really difficult.  Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well has been written about, captured on canvas, and set to music many times over as well it should have been.  It is an amazing story that touches themes of prejudice, gender equality, grace, and redemption.  A Jewish man schooled to despise Samaritans and to disregard women in general, Jesus startled this woman and mortified his disciples with his flagrant unwillingness to comply with the demands of his tradition.  In a land so arid that the dust never really settled, he spoke of water from a well that would never run dry, a well flowing not just for Jews but for all of the children of God.  “Everyone who drinks of this water will never thirst again,” he promised.  With breathless wonder, the woman replied, “Sir, give me this water.”  Without guile or hesitation, hers are the words of the newly and wondrously converted.

In reading the passage over and over, though, it was another phrase that most caught my attention.  After the woman left Jesus at the well, she raced in to the village and in telling the story of her encounter with him, she said with almost palpable breathlessness, “He told me everything I have ever done.”  As the story goes, there was a good bit to tell about this lady.  She was on her sixth husband, a fact which did not tell the whole story about her; but in the culture of her day, at the very least it suggested that her life had been far from easy.  Women in that era did not survive multiple marriages - certainly not well and always at great price.  One of the details mentioned in the story is that this encounter occurred at noon.  That is a significant point.  Savvy women did not go to the well at noon when the scorching heat made the pots heavier than they had to be.  They went early in the morning before the sun was high in the sky, and usually in a group, gathering to catch up on the gossip of the day, the comings and goings of the men and children in their lives, the Rabbi’s most recent remarks, small exchanges of the kind we all make with one another.  My guess is this unnamed woman in the story slinked off to the well, a necessary daily trip, in the heat of the day precisely so that she would be alone.  Whether deserved or not, it is unlikely that she was popular with her peers in the village. What was known about her tainted her.

To meet a man, any man had to be complicated for her.  I don’t think it is outlandish to imagine that she had been abused, certainly misused by men throughout her life.  I expect that she was less shocked by Jesus’ speaking to her than she was wary and weary of it.  She was the kind of woman men dared approach, assuming familiarity that exceeded the usual disrespect.  Of course, she didn’t make eye contact with him when he began to speak to her; women never did unless spoken to and then only with men they knew.  What kind and gentle presence Jesus must have had to break her shell of protection and fear.  It is one of the most beautiful stories in the Bible to me, one that tells us so dramatically about this man Jesus, this man who came not only to teach us how to live but to bring close to our hearts the love of Almighty God.

In my own prayer of this passage, I have tried to imagine what it would be like to meet a kind stranger one day only to find out that he already knew everything there was to know about me.  I have tried to imagine what it would be like to be offered living water from him, to hear in his words and actions the promise “Just as you are with all that you have done and with all that you have failed to do, you are loved and accepted.”  In ways that are too deep for words, this exchange captures the story of our salvation, the story of God coming among us, in us, through us and loving us with such intensity that we are literally saved by it, saved by a love that sees all and loves anyway.

One thing we can be sure of is that this woman knew something about shame.  And so do we.  We don’t always admit it certainly not to others and often not even to ourselves, but it is there; and it eats away at the core of our being, making it so hard for us to believe that just as we are, we are precious to God.  It thrills me that this passage appears in the middle of what inevitably begins to feel like a long Lent. If we are brave and if we are convinced of God’s goodness, reflection in Lent takes us to the dark corners of our lives to the abode of those moments we’d prefer to be known only to us, moments when for reasons of fear or greed or lust, we have fallen so short of God’s plan for our lives. 

I must have read these words, “he told me everything I have ever done,” a thousand times, but I am not sure that I have ever truly considered how amazing the words are and how they must have liberated this woman from years of shame and disappointment.  He knew her, and he loved her just as she was.  That, my friends, is the incredible good news of the gospel; and it is not just good news in some theoretical or theological sense.  Again and again we too are invited to accept that we are known – known to the core of our beings and cherished by a God who loves us and sees in us, no matter how broken we are, the goodness and purpose for which we are being created.

I wonder what life was like for her afterwards.  Did she stay with husband number six; was there a number seven?  Did she slip into the throng of people who followed Jesus around the countryside?  Did she continue to practice her faith and the faith of her fathers or did she attempt to become Jewish as Jesus was?  Of course, we don’t know.  It is a safe assumption that because her heart was so radically changed everything about her was new even if not one physical circumstance in her life was altered.  The acceptance of herself that was made possible by Jesus’ love created a new being – one in whom bitterness and cynicism were replaced with quiet but steady joy, one for whom the sadness of her past though not ignored no longer told her entire story, one for whom all that was to be had not yet come, one for whom hope replaced the drudgery of dread. 

In the name of God:  AMEN.