This morning we are going to look at one of the long conversations we find in the book of John. There is the conversation with Nicodemus in chapter 3, the man born blind in chapter 9, and the final conversation on the shore with Peter in chapter 21. Then there’s this one: the woman at the well in chapter 4. All of them are unique but all of them are filled with questions from Jesus and from those with whom he is talking. It’s not parables like Luke or quick encounters like Mark but exchanges with individuals that serve to reveal something about Jesus. They are real people and not just symbolic but these encounters serve a larger purpose than John merely recording a conversation. Something greater is in the works.
This is also like walking around a piece of sculpture instead of looking at a painting on the wall. It’s three dimensional and you see something different from each angle of view – and the artist intended it that way. There’s no “one way” to look at it. It’s not just a story with a beginning, a middle and an end. It’s a piece that we walk around and around or we turn it over and over in our hand to see the different facets and colors. It’s a story that includes the perspectives of Jesus, the woman, the disciples and at the end the people of the town.
I’m just going to point out a few things that strike me as I’ve walked around this sculpture this week.
First, we all have Samaritan relationships in our lives but they fall along a spectrum. For some of us, it is people who mildly embarrass us and we avoid being associated with them. People seeing them in us is embarrassing. When we lived in Boston people thought we had fried chicken every night for dinner and after a while we hesitated to tell them we were from the South. We wanted to distance ourselves. It wasn’t denial like Peter’s in the courtyard – just not wanting people to assume we lived in doublewide trailers. In the middle are people to whom we are, unfortunately, related but we deeply resent the relationship.. These are Christians who vote the wrong way or make us want to disown or even demonize them for their views on a host of issues. On the extreme end of the spectrum are those people who used to be related to us in one way or another but we have become not just estranged but we have come to see them as apostates who have betrayed us. We want nothing to do with them. We despise them because they were part of us and now they have joined the other side. They are not just heretics or rebels. They are traitors. I know that is how the Jews saw the Samaritans. They were once family and there are no worse enemies than those who were once family and friends.
But the Scripture says something that catches your eye when the light hits it just right. In Acts 1:8 Jesus says “you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all of Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” In other words, the gospel must pass through Samaria before it gets to the ends of the earth. The gospel must first get through one of the greatest obstacles in our lives before it can go any further – those we would like to avoid; those we despise; and those who have no use for us.
It’s easy to see what keeps the gospel in our Jerusalem. It was the same for the early church. They were respected, left in peace and allowed to worship openly until the death of Stephen. And then there was what George Will called a “salutary crisis” that turned everything upside down. The short term effects were disastrous but in driving them out of Jerusalem it saved the Church long term. So, the Church had to be driven out of Jerusalem.
It had to make it through Samaria – and the painful assimilation of the Gentiles. The Church had to adapt to include people the earliest members had been taught to despise. It had to overcome prejudice, cultural blindness and pride. It had to learn how to engage and include people with whom they had very little in common. Only then could it become a Gospel for the uttermost ends of the earth.
What caught my attention next was how Jesus reveals the most remarkable truth about himself to the least likely people. It is only to Nicodemus alone at night that he says, “You must be born again.” To the man born blind he confides that he is the Son of Man and here to a Samaritan woman outside an insignificant village he reveals that he is the Messiah. He reveals himself as the Christ to the least likely person, in the least likely place, at the least likely time – and then spends two more days with them.
There is nothing strategic about that but it was a divine necessity. In the fourth verse of chapter 4 John writes that Jesus “had” to go through Samaria to get to Galilee. Actually, he could have gone another way and not gone through Samaria at all. But, I suspect he knew there was a reason for his going that way instead of skirting it. He chose to spend two days in a town that had no importance – not even a bend in the road.
I have tried to read their exchange in a different way. Instead of seeing her as an apologetic fallen woman for whom Jesus has pity, I have begun to see her as a woman who could give and take. Her responses to Jesus when read in a different way are much stronger than they appear. Look at these:
“You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?”
“Are you greater than our father Jacob…?”
“Sir, give me this water so that I won’t get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water.”
“I have no husband.”
You literally have to read it out loud to catch the difference between what we have always heard and what might well have been the responses of a very strong – even intimidating – woman who had the self-confidence to banter back and forth with this stranger. I don’t think he overwhelmed her or made her ashamed of who she was. I think he recognized something in her that maybe we have missed. After all, when she went back to the village there was no sense of “Here comes that fallen woman again” but they listened to her and followed out to meet Jesus themselves. She must have had credibility and she certainly had leadership. Maybe she had five husbands for reasons different than we have assumed. After all, it was not wives who asked for divorces but men who could get a divorce for the slightest displeasure with his wife. She had apparently displeased a number of men.
But back to how he reveals the most about himself only to a few and those few are not who we would expect. It’s so unlike our approach, isn’t it? We want to convert the influencers and those who can sway others. We want big events, billboards, television, social media, and publishing. We leave virtually nothing unsaid or secret. In fact, we go in just the opposite direction. There is no mystery or hiddenness. Nothing is obscure or hard to understand. It is mass marketed and not gradually revealed. But maybe the real power of the Gospel is obscured by all the clutter of our messages. Maybe we could do with a little less. In John, the world is dark and the light is quietly revealed. It is not spotlights and beacons. Truth is disclosed without fanfare and even sometimes confusing – not altogether easy to understand. But we want bright light all the time. We want to follow teaching that prescribes clearly what we are to do in every situation and Jesus is not that way. He wants us to follow in faith and not always in brightly lit certainty. He wants obedience even in the dark.
If you have an important announcement to make you do it where the most people can hear it. You don’t hold a press conference in an out of the way place. But that is something even his family misunderstood about him as we read last week. His brothers were helping him think strategically about his building a platform for himself. “No one who wants to become a public figure acts in secret. Since you are doing these things, show yourself to the world.” Here, Jesus does just the opposite. His biggest “reveal” is not only in a nondescript village to a nameless woman but among people who are traditional enemies. It’s not unlike the story of his birth, is it? Nameless shepherds, an animal stall in a small village, and yet the angels appear from heaven shouting and singing to that small audience. How differently we announce our good news today. How differently we look for what is important to know.
God had prepared both of them for this conversation. Jesus had many of these “on the way” conversations and was never surprised by them. He always saw the signs of God’s preparation. He was comfortable with “no one comes to the son unless the Father draws him” instead of trying to force a decision. He was not on a crusade to capture Samaria for Christ, was he? It’s almost always fly fishing – not hook ’em and yank ’em.
Finally, they put their faith in Jesus because of what she said. That’s how it is with our children, isn’t it? They have faith in our faith and it takes time for them to develop their own. That’s a healthy thing. They often believe because of what we say until they grow up. It’s a small thing but I like the fact that she had confidence in Jesus but she also had questions. “Come and see” is followed by “Could it be?” I think our kids need to see that as well. They need to know that questions are normal and are not a sign of lack of faith.
It goes on to say that many more put their faith in him because of what he said. There were no miracles – only conversation. Later, when he leaves Sychar and goes to Galilee he says to the Jews, “Unless you people see miraculous signs and wonders you will never believe.” That was not so the day before in Samaria. People believed because he was the Messiah they were expecting – the one who would explain things. (4:25) I confess I am more interested in the Samaritan Messiah than the one with miraculous signs and wonders. I long for explanations more than excitement. Conversation more than circus. I would have loved the two hours on the road to Emmaus and the two days in Sychar where Jesus just talked. I suspect even Jesus was more comfortable explaining things than constantly being called on to produce signs and wonders.
Finally, the story is not really about the woman but about what the encounter with the woman reveals about Jesus. She is the lens or the prism through which we see even more of him. Today, of course, we would write the story about her with all the details of her life. Everything about her would be revealed. All of her motivations and deep background story. The truth is we often come to Scripture to discover more about ourselves and not more about Jesus. We want to be the central character in the story. It’s a mirror and not a prism.
There are two ways of thinking about our lives. That is the first. The story is about us and Jesus improves our lives and how we grow and develop. The best way to think about it is the story is about our relationship with him and how he reveals more and more about himself to us and – best of all – through us. We are not without value. We are not invisible but our lives are to be like a perfect lens or prism through which shines the revealed light of God in all its radiance and color. We are not called to be spotlights or advertisements for God. We are people who say to others, “come and see” along with “could it be?” We are, like Jesus, in a conversation with people God is drawing to himself.
So, this week we can think about our own relationship with Jesus. Do we want miracles, signs and wonders or are we satisfied with less spectacular conversations?
Who are the Samaritans in our lives – on one of the extremes or in the middle – who have become obstacles through which the gospel has not moved?
What are the on the way conversations that may turn into a two day stay and how can we keep from seeing them as interruptions?
How can we come to Scripture to see more of Jesus?