John N. Brittain
The familiar story of Jesus' encounter with the Samaritan woman at Jacob's well is loaded with meaning. It is a pattern for considering our meetings with Jesus at various times in our lives.
The story begins with Jesus asking this woman to perform a simple task, well within her ability: to get him a drink from the well. She did, after all, have the equipment. But she didn't want to do it and was able to provide some good reasons why she shouldn't. Every day of our lives, Jesus Christ asks us to do specific simple things which are as well within our ability as drawing a drink of water was for that woman: to speak a word of witness or share an act of kindness; to spend some time with a distressed or confused classmate; to tutor at the Power Program or help with the Adopt-a-Class Program; to have an adopted grandparent, write a letter or go on a Habitat work day. These are not big dramatic things, but little every day manageable tasks that Jesus asks of us; tasks that are well within our ability, just like drawing that drink of water from the well.
Like the woman, of course, we may choose to respond negatively to such requests, and always with good reason. "I would have liked to have spent some time with that student whose father died, but I had to study for a test. I'm not so sure about that service project; I once knew someone who volunteered at a soup kitchen, and he had a bad experience -- I think he got robbed. I thought about taking part in that program, but I heard that there were some Lutherans in the group -- or maybe they were Baptists or Presbyterians or something -- whatever, they were some people that I don't like." "How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?" There are always some good reasons why we should respond negatively. When Jesus asks us to do something for him, we are being asked to relinquish a certain amount of control and to take a certain risk, and none of us likes to lose control and take risks.
In the past fifteen to twenty years, many churches have been designed in response to consumer surveys. In several midwestern suburban areas the surveys have had similar results. People want the church to provide a good community center with an excellent gym and Nautilus-caliber training equipment; they want quality affordable day care and after school care for children; they want a variety of self-help and support groups; and they want sermons dealing with timely issues like money management and enhancing self-esteem. What they do not want are worship services where they are asked to participate or sing hymns; and they do not want sermons dealing with topics like sin, personal ethics, world hunger, or self-sacrifice. In response to such trends, within the past few years one of the larger churches in Evansville discontinued serving communion or baptizing people during regular worship services. They have discovered that people don't want religious rituals that talk about the new birth or the body and blood of Christ; they want a fellowship that will basically affirm who they are as good and worthwhile individuals and encourage them to maximize their potential. After watching a fairly detailed television account of one of these rapidly growing churches a few years ago, my daughter remarked that it was good for the planners to ask what people want out of a church, but that it might not hurt also to ask what God wants out of the church.
There is the control issue again. Does God have any control over the church, or is the church simply an institution designed to meet the articulated desires of its members? The woman at the well felt comfortable turning Jesus down. Sometimes we do too.
Now, someone may be thinking, in fairness to that woman we have to acknowledge that she had almost no chance of understanding what Jesus was talking about. With the benefit of hindsight, we know that Jesus was speaking about "living water" symbolically, meaning a source of constant spiritual refreshment. But this phrase, "living water," was more commonly used to mean fresh running water from a spring or river as opposed to water standing in a cistern or a well. The woman naturally enough assumed that this was what Jesus was speaking about, a source of constant fresh running water. That initial misunderstanding made it all but impossible for her to comprehend the business about water gushing up inside the individual. We seem to have a mental standoff. This is, of course, one of the conundrums of the Christian life: Jesus calls us to have faith and be transformed, but until we have some faith we may not see any need or possibility for transformation.
Something often happens when students go on a mission or service trip. Afterward, they will frequently share that they were not stupid or insensitive before the trip: they always knew that there were hungry, poor, and homeless people. But until they went to D. C. or St. Louis or Cleveland or Denver or wherever, they didn't really know about homeless and hungry people and how the church can help them. And once they really know, they see dimensions of poverty in Evansville or in their home communities of which they were simply unaware before. If they had never taken the risk, they would not have grown in their understanding of the needs of people, how God is working to meet those needs, and what role they can play in making God's will a reality for others. Jesus calls us to have faith and be transformed; but until we step out on faith we may not ever see the need for transformation.
The story moves on to this business of the five previous husbands and the man with whom the woman is now living. Again the issue is control. How much does this woman control what Jesus knows about her? The embarrassing answer is "not much." While an important aspect of this story is clearly Jesus' prophetic powers, it is also a reminder that things are often not as big a secret as we might wish.
Some years ago I worked at a very small school where one of the professors had become not just an alcoholic, but a first-class drunk. He would show up for class so inebriated that he was incoherent; he would sit behind his desk and fall into a stupored sleep; or he would just miss classes. One day I confronted him about his problem drinking. He was absolutely thunder struck -- you would have thought that I had the most astounding second-sight since biblical times. He was really convinced that his drinking was totally under control and not noticeable. As you are well aware, co-dependent families are often pulled into a cycle of attempting to hold things together and patch things up so that nobody will notice what's going on, when the situation is all too painfully obvious.
Students who are experiencing academic difficulty or are not adjusting well to campus life are sometimes astounded, sometimes offended, that someone -- a professor, a resident assistant, the chaplain -- expresses a concern about how they're doing. "You've been talking with my parents!" they might say. "My roommate has betrayed secrets I told her in confidence." No, not at all. It is just that things may be more obviously wrong than you guess. Much neurosis and psychosis is the result of trying to bury things in our subconscious, trying to keep things secret even from ourselves; but we can't do it. We can wear masks and fool a lot of people for a long time. We can even fool ourselves for a while, but the charade cannot last forever. "Nothing is hidden," Jesus says in Luke 8, "that will not be made known." At its most basic level, this means that we cannot control what other people know about us to the extent that we may wish; and nothing is hidden from God.
It makes us uncomfortable when the spotlight suddenly turns on us and we naturally enough want to divert its glare. "I've always wondered about this Mount Gerizim business," the woman suddenly says. "Why is it that we Samaritans worship there while you Jews worship in Jerusalem?" It is amazing how often religious issues are used to avoid spiritual matters. Every minister can tell stories of getting on a plane or train and striking up a friendly and relaxed conversation that grinds to a halt when the business of one's vocation comes up. "I'm a United Methodist minister" leads to a stunned and stony silence. Then, after a long pause, some response: "Well, you know, I've always wondered why the Baptists throw people in a tub," or "What about those Jehovah's Witnesses?" or "What is it with Catholic priests and little kids?" Like the woman at the well, there is an immediate attempt to divert attention to some "religious" issue, lest the follow-up question be something like, "Have you prayed to God lately?" or "Do you know the meaning of 'adultery'?" No, we don't want to get into that kind of personal thing. And as those who design churches by consumer poll remind us, people very much control institutional religion. There are individuals who are very out of touch with their inner spiritual self and who are very afraid of self-disclosure who are really up on church structure and polity, or on the shortcomings of every denomination. If the topic of God or religion ever comes up they can fill the space with verbiage without ever getting close to their spiritual self.
In situations like this, it is tempting to say, "None of that matters. Baptism doesn't matter; what hymns you sing, what church you attend don't matter." But they do matter. Jesus reminded the woman who had her sudden interest in the proper place to worship that salvation was from the Jews and that the Jerusalem temple was the proper place to offer sacrifice. These issues are important. But he went on. "God is spirit, and those who worship God must worship in spirit and truth." The form of worship, the place of worship, the type of worship are all important as means to the end that we worship God in spirit and truth. There is always a problem when we become so preoccupied with the means, we never get around to the end.
This has been kind of a rough conversation so far. Jesus has not allowed us to "just say no" to serving him by doing everyday, manageable things; he has reminded us that we don't control things as tightly as we might think and that things aren't as secret as we may imagine; and now we discover that we can't escape personal scrutiny by talking about the church bureaucracy or the fight the congregation is having over what color the new carpet should be. No, Jesus demands that we look deeply inside ourselves and that we look squarely at him and make some response.
The woman is still there. She could have gotten up and walked away. The Samaritans and Jews didn't get along very well, so nobody would have given a second thought to that. But she stayed. In spite of the misunderstanding over what "living water" meant, in spite of her obvious discomfort over her personal life coming to light, she stayed. We always have the option of checking out of our conversation with Jesus, and lots of us do. As soon as someone says something we don't like, our response is, "That's not for me! I'll find a church where they don't talk about this stuff!" If things get a little too personal, if it looks like we might not be totally in control, we check out.
The woman stays. She has the same desire we all have to be in touch with God. It may make some demands of us and it may be uncomfortable, but if we can be in touch with God, it will be worth it. As it turns out, she really knew all she needed to know to respond to Jesus: "I know the Messiah is coming." I know that God is working in a special way to make it possible for us to experience more fully God's presence, to be in a special relationship with God.
Maybe that's why this woman went through so many bad relationships with men, because she was looking for intimacy. Maybe there were other dark secrets that she was scared to death Jesus was going to spill out. But she knew that at some point Messiah would come, and Jesus said, "I am he." She knew enough to keep the dialogue going. And off she went, leaving her water jar behind.
We all know enough to keep the dialogue going. You know that God loves all humankind, which God created. You know how over the long course of history God has worked for the salvation of persons. You know that in the fullness of time Jesus came as the full embodiment of God's love, a love that was willing to go to the cross. And you know that Christ speaks to us today just as he did to that woman long ago. The only question for us is, "Will we keep the dialogue going?" Will we respond positively to Jesus' requests of us, will we take risks and step out on faith, or will we get up and say, "I don't feel like doing that." Will we be able to accept that God sees us as we really are, not the masks we wear or the public persona we present? Will we stay with the conversation to the end? Whenever we are willing to be challenged by God and to confront the reality of Jesus Christ face to face, we are able to leave one more water jar behind, and go out serving, witnessing, and growing, as Christians.
The familiar story of Jesus' encounter with the Samaritan woman at Jacob's well is loaded with meaning. It is a pattern for considering our meetings with Jesus at various times in our lives.
The story begins with Jesus asking this woman to perform a simple task, well within her ability: to get him a drink from the well. She did, after all, have the equipment. But she didn't want to do it and was able to provide some good reasons why she shouldn't. Every day of our lives, Jesus Christ asks us to do specific simple things which are as well within our ability as drawing a drink of water was for that woman: to speak a word of witness or share an act of kindness; to spend some time with a distressed or confused classmate; to tutor at the Power Program or help with the Adopt-a-Class Program; to have an adopted grandparent, write a letter or go on a Habitat work day. These are not big dramatic things, but little every day manageable tasks that Jesus asks of us; tasks that are well within our ability, just like drawing that drink of water from the well.
Like the woman, of course, we may choose to respond negatively to such requests, and always with good reason. "I would have liked to have spent some time with that student whose father died, but I had to study for a test. I'm not so sure about that service project; I once knew someone who volunteered at a soup kitchen, and he had a bad experience -- I think he got robbed. I thought about taking part in that program, but I heard that there were some Lutherans in the group -- or maybe they were Baptists or Presbyterians or something -- whatever, they were some people that I don't like." "How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?" There are always some good reasons why we should respond negatively. When Jesus asks us to do something for him, we are being asked to relinquish a certain amount of control and to take a certain risk, and none of us likes to lose control and take risks.
In the past fifteen to twenty years, many churches have been designed in response to consumer surveys. In several midwestern suburban areas the surveys have had similar results. People want the church to provide a good community center with an excellent gym and Nautilus-caliber training equipment; they want quality affordable day care and after school care for children; they want a variety of self-help and support groups; and they want sermons dealing with timely issues like money management and enhancing self-esteem. What they do not want are worship services where they are asked to participate or sing hymns; and they do not want sermons dealing with topics like sin, personal ethics, world hunger, or self-sacrifice. In response to such trends, within the past few years one of the larger churches in Evansville discontinued serving communion or baptizing people during regular worship services. They have discovered that people don't want religious rituals that talk about the new birth or the body and blood of Christ; they want a fellowship that will basically affirm who they are as good and worthwhile individuals and encourage them to maximize their potential. After watching a fairly detailed television account of one of these rapidly growing churches a few years ago, my daughter remarked that it was good for the planners to ask what people want out of a church, but that it might not hurt also to ask what God wants out of the church.
There is the control issue again. Does God have any control over the church, or is the church simply an institution designed to meet the articulated desires of its members? The woman at the well felt comfortable turning Jesus down. Sometimes we do too.
Now, someone may be thinking, in fairness to that woman we have to acknowledge that she had almost no chance of understanding what Jesus was talking about. With the benefit of hindsight, we know that Jesus was speaking about "living water" symbolically, meaning a source of constant spiritual refreshment. But this phrase, "living water," was more commonly used to mean fresh running water from a spring or river as opposed to water standing in a cistern or a well. The woman naturally enough assumed that this was what Jesus was speaking about, a source of constant fresh running water. That initial misunderstanding made it all but impossible for her to comprehend the business about water gushing up inside the individual. We seem to have a mental standoff. This is, of course, one of the conundrums of the Christian life: Jesus calls us to have faith and be transformed, but until we have some faith we may not see any need or possibility for transformation.
Something often happens when students go on a mission or service trip. Afterward, they will frequently share that they were not stupid or insensitive before the trip: they always knew that there were hungry, poor, and homeless people. But until they went to D. C. or St. Louis or Cleveland or Denver or wherever, they didn't really know about homeless and hungry people and how the church can help them. And once they really know, they see dimensions of poverty in Evansville or in their home communities of which they were simply unaware before. If they had never taken the risk, they would not have grown in their understanding of the needs of people, how God is working to meet those needs, and what role they can play in making God's will a reality for others. Jesus calls us to have faith and be transformed; but until we step out on faith we may not ever see the need for transformation.
The story moves on to this business of the five previous husbands and the man with whom the woman is now living. Again the issue is control. How much does this woman control what Jesus knows about her? The embarrassing answer is "not much." While an important aspect of this story is clearly Jesus' prophetic powers, it is also a reminder that things are often not as big a secret as we might wish.
Some years ago I worked at a very small school where one of the professors had become not just an alcoholic, but a first-class drunk. He would show up for class so inebriated that he was incoherent; he would sit behind his desk and fall into a stupored sleep; or he would just miss classes. One day I confronted him about his problem drinking. He was absolutely thunder struck -- you would have thought that I had the most astounding second-sight since biblical times. He was really convinced that his drinking was totally under control and not noticeable. As you are well aware, co-dependent families are often pulled into a cycle of attempting to hold things together and patch things up so that nobody will notice what's going on, when the situation is all too painfully obvious.
Students who are experiencing academic difficulty or are not adjusting well to campus life are sometimes astounded, sometimes offended, that someone -- a professor, a resident assistant, the chaplain -- expresses a concern about how they're doing. "You've been talking with my parents!" they might say. "My roommate has betrayed secrets I told her in confidence." No, not at all. It is just that things may be more obviously wrong than you guess. Much neurosis and psychosis is the result of trying to bury things in our subconscious, trying to keep things secret even from ourselves; but we can't do it. We can wear masks and fool a lot of people for a long time. We can even fool ourselves for a while, but the charade cannot last forever. "Nothing is hidden," Jesus says in Luke 8, "that will not be made known." At its most basic level, this means that we cannot control what other people know about us to the extent that we may wish; and nothing is hidden from God.
It makes us uncomfortable when the spotlight suddenly turns on us and we naturally enough want to divert its glare. "I've always wondered about this Mount Gerizim business," the woman suddenly says. "Why is it that we Samaritans worship there while you Jews worship in Jerusalem?" It is amazing how often religious issues are used to avoid spiritual matters. Every minister can tell stories of getting on a plane or train and striking up a friendly and relaxed conversation that grinds to a halt when the business of one's vocation comes up. "I'm a United Methodist minister" leads to a stunned and stony silence. Then, after a long pause, some response: "Well, you know, I've always wondered why the Baptists throw people in a tub," or "What about those Jehovah's Witnesses?" or "What is it with Catholic priests and little kids?" Like the woman at the well, there is an immediate attempt to divert attention to some "religious" issue, lest the follow-up question be something like, "Have you prayed to God lately?" or "Do you know the meaning of 'adultery'?" No, we don't want to get into that kind of personal thing. And as those who design churches by consumer poll remind us, people very much control institutional religion. There are individuals who are very out of touch with their inner spiritual self and who are very afraid of self-disclosure who are really up on church structure and polity, or on the shortcomings of every denomination. If the topic of God or religion ever comes up they can fill the space with verbiage without ever getting close to their spiritual self.
In situations like this, it is tempting to say, "None of that matters. Baptism doesn't matter; what hymns you sing, what church you attend don't matter." But they do matter. Jesus reminded the woman who had her sudden interest in the proper place to worship that salvation was from the Jews and that the Jerusalem temple was the proper place to offer sacrifice. These issues are important. But he went on. "God is spirit, and those who worship God must worship in spirit and truth." The form of worship, the place of worship, the type of worship are all important as means to the end that we worship God in spirit and truth. There is always a problem when we become so preoccupied with the means, we never get around to the end.
This has been kind of a rough conversation so far. Jesus has not allowed us to "just say no" to serving him by doing everyday, manageable things; he has reminded us that we don't control things as tightly as we might think and that things aren't as secret as we may imagine; and now we discover that we can't escape personal scrutiny by talking about the church bureaucracy or the fight the congregation is having over what color the new carpet should be. No, Jesus demands that we look deeply inside ourselves and that we look squarely at him and make some response.
The woman is still there. She could have gotten up and walked away. The Samaritans and Jews didn't get along very well, so nobody would have given a second thought to that. But she stayed. In spite of the misunderstanding over what "living water" meant, in spite of her obvious discomfort over her personal life coming to light, she stayed. We always have the option of checking out of our conversation with Jesus, and lots of us do. As soon as someone says something we don't like, our response is, "That's not for me! I'll find a church where they don't talk about this stuff!" If things get a little too personal, if it looks like we might not be totally in control, we check out.
The woman stays. She has the same desire we all have to be in touch with God. It may make some demands of us and it may be uncomfortable, but if we can be in touch with God, it will be worth it. As it turns out, she really knew all she needed to know to respond to Jesus: "I know the Messiah is coming." I know that God is working in a special way to make it possible for us to experience more fully God's presence, to be in a special relationship with God.
Maybe that's why this woman went through so many bad relationships with men, because she was looking for intimacy. Maybe there were other dark secrets that she was scared to death Jesus was going to spill out. But she knew that at some point Messiah would come, and Jesus said, "I am he." She knew enough to keep the dialogue going. And off she went, leaving her water jar behind.
We all know enough to keep the dialogue going. You know that God loves all humankind, which God created. You know how over the long course of history God has worked for the salvation of persons. You know that in the fullness of time Jesus came as the full embodiment of God's love, a love that was willing to go to the cross. And you know that Christ speaks to us today just as he did to that woman long ago. The only question for us is, "Will we keep the dialogue going?" Will we respond positively to Jesus' requests of us, will we take risks and step out on faith, or will we get up and say, "I don't feel like doing that." Will we be able to accept that God sees us as we really are, not the masks we wear or the public persona we present? Will we stay with the conversation to the end? Whenever we are willing to be challenged by God and to confront the reality of Jesus Christ face to face, we are able to leave one more water jar behind, and go out serving, witnessing, and growing, as Christians.
