What a week it’s been! Glued to news reports, compiling advice from family, and friends, and colleagues, we made many decisions – about how to prepare and what to buy (lots of toilet paper, apparently!); about how to change, or not, our patterns of life and movement; about how to understand our own risks and responsibilities in the face of incomplete and ever-changing information.
As I consulted and made plans and changed plans about what our worship and time together might look like this week, I felt a little like poor Charlie Brown, getting set to kick the football only to land flat on my back as it’s yanked out of the way – perhaps you can relate! Things have changed ever-so-rapidly, and the anxiety and fear and disappointment and grief have left us tired out by a journey that is only just beginning.
Today’s reading from the Gospel of John begins with Jesus, tired out by his journey, pausing to rest in the heat of the day alongside a well in a foreign place. His disciples have gone to buy food, and he is alone, or is alone until a Samaritan woman comes to draw water. Tired, and thirsty, Jesus asks her for a drink.
There are many things that are unusual about this scene. It was unusual for the woman to come to the well at noon, when the sun was highest and hottest, and it was unusual for her to come alone. More often women came together to the well, sharing in conversation and community, and generally in the morning, while it was still cool. It was also unusual for Jesus to speak to her once, let alone have an entire conversation. At that time, and in that culture, men and women who were not related to one another did not speak openly in public. Additionally, Jews and Samaritans were like estranged family members. They did not agree with one another on many central issues concerning their once-connected but now distinct religions, and did not share things in common with one another.
And yet, Jesus asks for water. Perhaps because he is so tired and thirsty. Perhaps because he has no bucket and the well is deep. Or, perhaps, because these kinds of unusual things are so characteristic of Jesus, so characteristic of the kingdom of God. Crossing boundaries, giving relationship and connection priority over hard-and-fast rules, seeing the very people who were so often overlooked – this is Jesus’ way, no question!
I bet the woman was tired, too. Hauling water is physically exhausting, yes. And also, being ostracized and isolated and overlooked is its own kind of burden. From her story it seems like uncertainty and isolation, disappointment and grief were no strangers to her. Five husbands, perhaps five funerals. Upheaval and no steady place to call home. Perhaps childless and living with relatives by marriage, was she only a reminder of their deep grief and loss?
Jesus is thirsty, and tired out by his journey, but he sees that she is thirsty, too. Thirsty for connection, thirsty for debate and conversation, thirsty to be seen and known and loved. The living water that Jesus promises is not a dusty trickle, not a deep well accessible only by those with the proper bucket. The living water that Jesus promises is a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.
Perhaps, in this time of social distancing, you too are thirsty for connection and conversation – or maybe this thirst is nothing new. Perhaps, in this time when things trivial and things of great magnitude are canceled, you are thirsty for someone to hold your disappointment and let you grieve – or maybe this latest disappointment is just one more cut in a never-ending barrage of difficulties. Perhaps, in the midst of your fear, you have felt yourself curving in on yourself, filled not with love for neighbor, but with suspicion, competition, or contempt.
The good news today is this – Jesus sees you. He sees your hurts, your fears, your doubts and anxieties, your disappointments and failures, and yes, your joys. Jesus sees you and loves you. When you are so very tired, and thirsty for so many things, Jesus fills you with living water and offers you rest. In those times when the weight of “everything you have ever done” threatens to crush you, hear the story and the promise of everything Jesus has ever done.
Washed in the living water of baptism, we have been joined to Jesus’ death and resurrection. Claimed by God in these waters, loved and forgiven, we are reminded of the astonishing breadth of God’s love for us, shown in Jesus’ willingness to be with us in everything. We are not alone. Fear, pandemics, disappointment and heartbreak, grief and loneliness – none of that, not even death, can separate us from God’s love in Christ Jesus our Lord.
These are trying times. We do not know what lies ahead, or how long the journey will be. But in times of uncertainty and fear, we cling to God’s everlasting promises. The promise that God loves us and never leaves us. The promise that we are each members of one body. The promise that the Spirit will strengthen and empower us, no matter what comes. Are you thirsty for reassurance and hope? Drink deeply from the living water Jesus gives. This water unites us with God and one another. This water gushes forth, the abundant flowing spring of God’s mercy and grace.
As I consulted and made plans and changed plans about what our worship and time together might look like this week, I felt a little like poor Charlie Brown, getting set to kick the football only to land flat on my back as it’s yanked out of the way – perhaps you can relate! Things have changed ever-so-rapidly, and the anxiety and fear and disappointment and grief have left us tired out by a journey that is only just beginning.
Today’s reading from the Gospel of John begins with Jesus, tired out by his journey, pausing to rest in the heat of the day alongside a well in a foreign place. His disciples have gone to buy food, and he is alone, or is alone until a Samaritan woman comes to draw water. Tired, and thirsty, Jesus asks her for a drink.
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| Photo by Frank Albrecht on Unsplash |
There are many things that are unusual about this scene. It was unusual for the woman to come to the well at noon, when the sun was highest and hottest, and it was unusual for her to come alone. More often women came together to the well, sharing in conversation and community, and generally in the morning, while it was still cool. It was also unusual for Jesus to speak to her once, let alone have an entire conversation. At that time, and in that culture, men and women who were not related to one another did not speak openly in public. Additionally, Jews and Samaritans were like estranged family members. They did not agree with one another on many central issues concerning their once-connected but now distinct religions, and did not share things in common with one another.
And yet, Jesus asks for water. Perhaps because he is so tired and thirsty. Perhaps because he has no bucket and the well is deep. Or, perhaps, because these kinds of unusual things are so characteristic of Jesus, so characteristic of the kingdom of God. Crossing boundaries, giving relationship and connection priority over hard-and-fast rules, seeing the very people who were so often overlooked – this is Jesus’ way, no question!
I bet the woman was tired, too. Hauling water is physically exhausting, yes. And also, being ostracized and isolated and overlooked is its own kind of burden. From her story it seems like uncertainty and isolation, disappointment and grief were no strangers to her. Five husbands, perhaps five funerals. Upheaval and no steady place to call home. Perhaps childless and living with relatives by marriage, was she only a reminder of their deep grief and loss?
Jesus is thirsty, and tired out by his journey, but he sees that she is thirsty, too. Thirsty for connection, thirsty for debate and conversation, thirsty to be seen and known and loved. The living water that Jesus promises is not a dusty trickle, not a deep well accessible only by those with the proper bucket. The living water that Jesus promises is a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.
Perhaps, in this time of social distancing, you too are thirsty for connection and conversation – or maybe this thirst is nothing new. Perhaps, in this time when things trivial and things of great magnitude are canceled, you are thirsty for someone to hold your disappointment and let you grieve – or maybe this latest disappointment is just one more cut in a never-ending barrage of difficulties. Perhaps, in the midst of your fear, you have felt yourself curving in on yourself, filled not with love for neighbor, but with suspicion, competition, or contempt.
The good news today is this – Jesus sees you. He sees your hurts, your fears, your doubts and anxieties, your disappointments and failures, and yes, your joys. Jesus sees you and loves you. When you are so very tired, and thirsty for so many things, Jesus fills you with living water and offers you rest. In those times when the weight of “everything you have ever done” threatens to crush you, hear the story and the promise of everything Jesus has ever done.
Washed in the living water of baptism, we have been joined to Jesus’ death and resurrection. Claimed by God in these waters, loved and forgiven, we are reminded of the astonishing breadth of God’s love for us, shown in Jesus’ willingness to be with us in everything. We are not alone. Fear, pandemics, disappointment and heartbreak, grief and loneliness – none of that, not even death, can separate us from God’s love in Christ Jesus our Lord.
These are trying times. We do not know what lies ahead, or how long the journey will be. But in times of uncertainty and fear, we cling to God’s everlasting promises. The promise that God loves us and never leaves us. The promise that we are each members of one body. The promise that the Spirit will strengthen and empower us, no matter what comes. Are you thirsty for reassurance and hope? Drink deeply from the living water Jesus gives. This water unites us with God and one another. This water gushes forth, the abundant flowing spring of God’s mercy and grace.
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