St. Charles' Episcopal Church – St. Charles, IL

Sunday, December 23, 2007 – The Third Sunday in Lent – Year A

Exodus 17:1-7; Psalm 95; Romans 5:1-11; John 4:5-42;
Rev. Elizabeth G. Meade

Last week, we heard the story of Nicodemus, who came to talk to Jesus under the cover of darkness. He wanted to find out more about the famous teacher. But Nicodemus got it wrong: He came to see the man, Jesus – never realizing that his encounter was, in fact, an encounter with God Himself.

The contrast in this week’s Gospel is stark. The story takes place NOT under cover of darkness – we are told it happens at the height of the noonday sun. And it isn’t an important member of the Sanhedrin – with the comportment such influential people often have. It was with a woman – a woman who, because of her many marriages probably had very few friends in the village. She came to the well alone.

Two such stridently different people – each coming face to face with the Savior of the world.

Two people who seemingly have nothing in common – yet each searching. Searching for something they couldn’t exactly identify. Each feeling an emptiness that only God can fill.

I was struck this week by this line from our reading from Genesis:

            “I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb.”

and how well it fits into today’s Gospel. In that reading, the Hebrews are grumbling – again – to Moses. (The Hebrews are always grumbling in Genesis!) This week’s complaint is that they are thirsty. And Moses cries out to God in frustration. And God promises Moses that he will satisfy their thirst by bringing water out of a rock if Moses will just strike the rock. And God assures him as he says:

             “I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb.”

God’s promise to the Hebrews, to Nicodemus, to the woman at the well, and, in fact, God’s promise to every one of us here today is this: I will be standing right there in front of you.

Sometimes it’s obvious to us and sometimes it’s not. Nicodemus acknowledged that he knew Jesus was a great teacher sent by God…but he totally failed to SEE God in the encounter. Sometimes like Nicodemus, we don’t see God either. But – oh – when we do! Like the woman at the well. This woman, probably spurned by her fellow townspeople as “a fallen woman,” probably coming to the well at midday to avoid their judgmental stares, this woman sees a Jewish traveler sitting alone by a well… in the heat of the mid-day sun…without a bucket. She’s shocked that he would even speak to her. The Samaritans and the Jews, if you remember, were enemies. And, as if that weren’t enough, Jesus and the woman lived in a culture where men and women didn’t speak to each other in public. A culture where males prayed each morning: “Thank God I am not a woman.” So to have this man – this Jewish man – actively engaging this woman, this Samaritan woman, was a radical thing indeed. Scandalous.

The contrast continues.

In last week’s reading, Jesus gave Nicodemus a radical clue as to his identity when he said this:

            “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only son so that whosoever should believe in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16)

–    and Nicodemus still didn’t get it.

 The keys to the kingdom were right there within his reach – and he fumbled.

But the woman – who incidentally isn’t even named (that’s a clue to her status!) this woman somehow recognizes Jesus for who he is. Jesus, in asking her to get Him a drink of water, shows his own vulnerability and can then open the dialogue with her, which gets very personal very quickly.

In naming her sins, in promising her something better, in receiving her with such grace and truth,

Jesus touched her – and she recognized him. Not only does she “get” it – she becomes the first evangelist mentioned in John’s gospel. She runs back to her town – and spreads the Good News. She brought her townspeople to Jesus.

What transformed this woman can transform our world – and each one of us. The transformation occurs around water at the well. We can look at it as a baptismal liturgy of sorts. There are questions and answers. There are exhortations to be cleansed and gifts offered. After the encounter – after her baptism, so to speak – the woman does what we are all called to do. She runs out into the world and shares the Good News.

Pretty shocking stuff – given the Pharisees regarded the Samaritans as untouchables – as unclean. Pretty shocking stuff – that the Jewish rabbi would speak to a Samaritan woman and offer her Living Water. And yet, isn’t that the point? Isn’t that what “the Good News” is all about? Living water? God’s promise that He loves us so much that He offers Living Water to all who turn to him – no exceptions. Not just to the clean. Not just to the righteous. God will always stand there in front of us, offering Living Water, just as he stood in front of our ancestors at the rock at Horeb.

So, in Lent, we ask ourselves these questions:

Are we like Nicodemus? Do we even recognize the Living God? And, are we ever like the woman at the well? People who recognize God in the faces of those who stand in front of us: the grocery store checker, the train conductor, the bus boy who re-fills our water glasses and slakes our thirst.

As we continue in this slow procession toward Holy Week, we are asked to remember that Jesus is sitting there in the heat of the midday sun and in the darkness of night. He is still thirsty from the journey.

Do you see him? Do you draw water for him? Amen.