That Living Water

Water is the theme today. It is one of the enduring images of our faith, from Genesis to the Book of Revelation. At St. Alban’s Church in Indianapolis, where I attended for more than 20 years there is a fabric mural that stretches about 28 feet that is dedicated to the theme of water. It had a rather inelegant beginning. St. Alban’s had had a fire that didn’t destroy the church but did enough damage that lots of things needed to be replaced. When we got around to the long bare walls in the nave of the church, Fr. David, sent off to Whipples, the very British liturgical vestment maker in England and they sent back possibly the most boring proposal imaginable, with a huge price tag attached. At the time, I was working with many local artists and I suggested that maybe the church would want to consider one of them. It was a fascinating process with all of the usual church project dynamics. Eventually, Jo Locker, a local woman artist was chosen on the quality of her work but we still didn’t know what we wanted. One day, in frustration, Fr. David said, “There has to be some theme to this, like, oh I don’t know, water in the Bible.” Jo took the comment and ran with it. She designed seven different panels that depicted references to water in the Bible from creation to salvation. Jo told me that working so intently on the theology of water was a profound experience for her. The result is an extraordinary work – I cringed the other day when I went to St. Alban’s website and it was referred to as a quilt.

How many of you remember the science film Hemo the Magnificent from your school days? It explains the working of the human body, and in particular, blood. When the animated Greek god type figure grows tired of the conversation and is ready to storm out saying “all this is plumbing ... you haven't learned my secrets at all" the Scientist answers him in a single word "Thalassa" -- salt water. Hemo the magnificent stays because he has found someone to appreciate his true nature – linked elementally to the waters of creation. I remember nothing else about the movie but that connection between the blood in our veins and the life giving water of this planet. Although in finding it on the web, I came across a quote from Hemo that gets to the heart of today’s gospel – “What better way to love thy neighbor, than to heal thy neighbor?"

Healing is what Jesus offers to the Samaritan woman at the well but you have to know how to get into the story. In full disclosure, I owe this bit of scholarship to Sarah Dylan Breuer and her lectionary blog. The first thing that’s important to know is how deep the enmity between Israel and Samaria was. When the Jews had returned from exile in Babylon, there was much discussion as to the cause of God’s anger that had allowed them to be enslaved. One common thought which is found in the books of Ezra and Nehemiah, is that God was angry that some Jewish men had married gentile women. The prophets of the day called for them all to divorce their wives. Now, go figure, but some people told Nehemiah to go jump in a lake, particularly the Samaritans – he did not take kindly to that and he in turn put curses on them and other unpleasant things. What ever roots of the hostility between the Jews and the Samaritans, it was intense – not some friendly cross-town USC/UCLA rivalry – but more like the Ohio State/Michigan – gut level, blinding hatred. So when the Samaritan woman encountered Jesus at the well, that was what she was expecting from him because he was after all, a Jew.

The woman who came to the well had more than Judeo-Samaritan relations going on in her life. It says a lot that she came to the well at noon. We hear that and it’s no big deal but if you know anything about that kind of situation, you might know that usually women went to the community well early in the morning or late in the day when it was cooler. It was also a very social time – the well was the water cooler of the day. All was discussed. This woman chose to make her trip to the well when the other women weren’t around – just what you might expect for someone who was probably a topic of frequent local gossip. She was hoping to draw her water without drawing attention.

So this woman came to the well with her bucket and a whole lot of baggage. And there was this guy, a Jew sitting there and you can almost feel her tensing up – hoping to get her water without some sort of unpleasantness.

But instead Jesus treats her like a woman of his own family, he asks her for water. The version of the story that we have is very stylized and so we miss that Jesus would most likely have said in such a situation. “May I have some water please?” The amazement that she felt was no doubt multi layered…a Jew asking a Samaritan for help; a man speaking to a woman not of his family, a man talking to her and asking for only water. In that practical question he gave her so much. He relieved her of her shame and all that kept her isolated from her neighbors. He saw through her dishonest answer about herself – which revealed her shame and to him it did not matter. With each bit of the encounter she grew stronger; even the return of the disciples, not known for their compassionate insight, could take away what he had given her – respect, welcome and love. The transformation was so complete that she forgot her discomfort at being around her neighbors, in fact she went straight to them and shared the good news, no longer ashamed of who she was.

This is one of the stories that illustrates part of the Mission Statement of Faith Episcopal – that we strive to offer the hospitality of the Gospel. It really hurts my heart when I encounter people who have been wounded by the church – by any church. Those wounds can be wounds of invisibility, the kind that keep the church an exclusive kind of place filled with the right kind of people or the wounds can be more direct. The “you’re not welcome here” kind. “You’re not welcome here as you are.” Or they can be those of an institution more intent on holding authority and seeing sin every where they look than on prospect of love. The result of a wounding church is to cut people off from the message of joy and love. As Hemo the Magnificent said “What better way to love thy neighbor than to heal thy neighbor?” When church makes you feel bad about who you are, how you grew up, what you look like, or who you love it has forsaken it most fundamental reason for being. Church should look like Jacob’s well where people are transformed by loving welcome into a place committed to a healthy and hopeful way of being. Jesus didn’t distinguish between people; he didn’t tell the woman what she needed to change about herself – he set about dispensing the astonishing truth that God’s love is available immediately for every one. The Samaritan woman came to the well for water, she thought she was taking care of a daily chore and instead she encountered waters of creation, blessing, forgiveness, redemption, and salvation.