The Inescapable God
Lent 3
John 4.5-42
This encounter is strange. Jesus is alone; his companions have gone off to buy food. Are we to assume then that he has no cash? I think probably. Taking a rest, he is overcome with the need for a
drink. When he asks the Samaritan woman to give him a drink, we should take the request literally. The only way he is going to quench his thirst is if someone
gives him a drink. He is looking for a gift, and the person he looks to for that benefit is a woman who is both a Samaritan and a stranger to him. What is he
doing as a faithful and devout Jew? He shouldn’t be talking to a Samaritan and he shouldn’t be talking to a woman.
What is Jesus doing? It’s clear he’s crossing the conventional boundaries as if they didn’t matter at all. This is Jesus with the person we’d do everything to avoid approaching in ordinary conversation; the person we blank out because of our prejudices and preconceptions, you know
- the drunk at the railway station
- the prostitute with an all too short skirt and high boots
- the leather-clad and loud youths with numerous piercings
- the cursing and deranged individual shouting at everyone
- or whatever scary, threatening, or disarming person comes to mind.
This is not a commonplace encounter. Indeed, perhaps Jesus needed to be alone in order to work up the courage to address her. Crossing the boundaries takes courage, why should we assume it was so much easier for Jesus than we ourselves find it?
The woman, on the other hand, is doing what’s familiar to her. She may well (!) have come to this well every single day of her life. She has with her the familiar tools of her endeavour – a water jar and a water-skin. She is experienced in using the well and carrying
its water home. Why she is there at the hottest part of the day – about noon – we aren’t told. Is she behind with things? Hard pressed in the necessary work of the day the last thing she needs is a stranger delaying her longer. Perhaps. We may imagine that she is
thirsty too. The thirst that Jesus recognises is more than the longing for cold water. He sees in her a deeper thirst – a thirst of the soul. And the meeting of that thirst has something to do with gifts and giving. She comes to Jacob’s well, as usual, but finds also Jesus’ well – that well from which we may draw the refreshing gift of God’s grace. Here is a cistern that never runs dry; a spring that overflows because its source is God.
In a way that is typical of John the Gospeller’s way with stories and words, drawing water and giving gifts becomes a rich inter-playing of meanings. The woman comes to the well because of a physical thirst. But Jesus looks beyond that and sees a deeper thirst and a
way to quench it. He offers her water that is living that can quench her thirst forever. And she confusing this soul-talk with literal water-carrying, likes the idea of never having to make this wearisome journey to the well again. The kind of water Jesus is talking about doesn’t connect with her – so preoccupied is she by both the task in hand and the peculiar stranger who won’t let her get on with what she needs to do. Is that the reason for Jesus’ persistence in questioning her? Only in the questions does she come to realise that more is being said than handy-hints for water carriers. The questions reveal the depth of Jesus’ insight about her real struggles and concerns in life. He knows things about her that go
way beyond the commonplace. He knew about her deeper thirst; that she had not
found the water she truly needed in other relationships, even in marriage. What she thirsted for, all unknowing, was a relationship with God. That’s the gift of living water hat she has missed in her labour for daily water. A life-giving, fresh, vital relationship with the One who created her and loves her, is what will answer her thirst. This is the water Jesus offered her.
An interesting point I came across in studying this text is that in the language the woman used – Aramaic – the word for ‘husband’ is ‘ba-al,’ usually rendered as ‘lord’ or ‘master.’ But, of course, the word is also the name of an old Canaanite god – remember those
stories of Elijah’s struggles with the prophets of Baal. Devout Jews considered Samaritans to be apostates – those who had corrupted the pure faith with the ungodly influences of other religions. If we re-read verses from our Gospel reading replacing the word ‘husband’ with the word ‘god’ we can get closer insight, perhaps, to the nature of his conversation. Reading from verse 16 of John’s chapter 4 is would go like this:
16 Jesus said to her, ‘Go, call on your god, and come back.’
17 The woman answered him, ‘I have no god.’ Jesus said to her, ‘You are right in saying, “I have no god;” for you have had five gods, and the one you have now is not your
god. What you have said is true!’
19 The woman said to him, ‘Sir, I see that you are a prophet.’
Now the talk about the true place to worship comes into sharper focus. The woman stands for all of us who struggle to live with the reality of God. It is not just the Samaritan woman but all of us who get lost amongst false gods of laborious pressure, meaningless pleasure,
broken relationships, unfulfilled longings, and world-weary motives. Our physical needs are so clear to us, and we spend a good deal of our time and effort striving to meet those needs.
But just as surely as we have physical needs, we also have soul needs. We are spiritual beings. We need more than just food and water. We need companionship, love, friendship, affection, a sense of well being, a sense of belonging, and a yearning after meaning – these
things go beyond our physical needs, as important as they are.
The famous psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor, Victor Frankl, once repeated a public poll amongst his own patients and clinic personnel. The poll had found 89% of respondents admitted that they needed ‘something’ for the sake of which to live. And further, an incredible 61% said there was something or someone in their own lives for whom they were even ready to die. Frankl’s own survey produced similar findings, and he concluded,‘In other words, the will to meaning is in most people fact, not faith.’
The woman came with her tools – jar, water-skin and rope to dip from a deep well. Instead she found another well, a spring which needed no such tools. All she needed was a little cup of faith from which to sip – to dare to believe that this man sitting on the roadside was in fact the source of a spring of living water, the living presence of God. A sip is all that’s needed. A sip that prompts another and another, until self-knowledge is watered into bloom and what was parched becomes vibrant and alive.
There is something scary in this life-give, life-enhancing drink. This thirst-quenching God told the woman all she had ever done, as she put it. This is the God who knows every intimacy of our lives. This is the living water that washes the mucky glass until all is plainly seen through it. The Samaritan woman discovers the power of something we constantly shy away from – God’s absolutely total knowledge of each one of us. As every counsellor knows, there is an almighty resistance in each one of us to even trivial self-revelations. We hide the depth of our souls even from ourselves.
Martin Luther put it like this – ‘in every creature God is deeper, more internal, and more present than the creature is to himself.’ Our entire life – inner and outer – every thought, and desire, and feeling, and fantasy – is known to God. That thought was so disturbing to Luther that he desired that God not be God, ‘I did not love God. I hated the just God and was indignant toward him.’ Luther shocked himself when he realized how fearful, even hateful, he found that idea of God. This is the realisation to which the Samaritan woman
comes – the God who knows everything she has ever done.
Paul Tillich, one of the great theologians of the twentieth century put it like this, ‘God is inescapable. He is only God because he is inescapable. And only that which is inescapable is
God.’ That’s what so troubled the young Luther. To the woman at the well, however, this is good news. Could this be the Messiah? she says. The God she had wanted to run away from is the very ground of her existence and all existence. In other words, don’t take God’s all
knowingness as a threat; take it as a sign of his grace and mercy – something Luther came to appreciate. The everlasting arms are always there to support, uphold, guide and comfort – and even the things you won’t admit to yourself won’t make God withdraw those arms.
The Samaritan woman came with a water jar seeking to fulfil her everyday needs; she found the wellspring of life in all its fullness. And she went to tell others, ‘Come and see,’ she said – one thirsty soul telling others where to find water.
drink. When he asks the Samaritan woman to give him a drink, we should take the request literally. The only way he is going to quench his thirst is if someone
gives him a drink. He is looking for a gift, and the person he looks to for that benefit is a woman who is both a Samaritan and a stranger to him. What is he
doing as a faithful and devout Jew? He shouldn’t be talking to a Samaritan and he shouldn’t be talking to a woman.
What is Jesus doing? It’s clear he’s crossing the conventional boundaries as if they didn’t matter at all. This is Jesus with the person we’d do everything to avoid approaching in ordinary conversation; the person we blank out because of our prejudices and preconceptions, you know
- the drunk at the railway station
- the prostitute with an all too short skirt and high boots
- the leather-clad and loud youths with numerous piercings
- the cursing and deranged individual shouting at everyone
- or whatever scary, threatening, or disarming person comes to mind.
This is not a commonplace encounter. Indeed, perhaps Jesus needed to be alone in order to work up the courage to address her. Crossing the boundaries takes courage, why should we assume it was so much easier for Jesus than we ourselves find it?
The woman, on the other hand, is doing what’s familiar to her. She may well (!) have come to this well every single day of her life. She has with her the familiar tools of her endeavour – a water jar and a water-skin. She is experienced in using the well and carrying
its water home. Why she is there at the hottest part of the day – about noon – we aren’t told. Is she behind with things? Hard pressed in the necessary work of the day the last thing she needs is a stranger delaying her longer. Perhaps. We may imagine that she is
thirsty too. The thirst that Jesus recognises is more than the longing for cold water. He sees in her a deeper thirst – a thirst of the soul. And the meeting of that thirst has something to do with gifts and giving. She comes to Jacob’s well, as usual, but finds also Jesus’ well – that well from which we may draw the refreshing gift of God’s grace. Here is a cistern that never runs dry; a spring that overflows because its source is God.
In a way that is typical of John the Gospeller’s way with stories and words, drawing water and giving gifts becomes a rich inter-playing of meanings. The woman comes to the well because of a physical thirst. But Jesus looks beyond that and sees a deeper thirst and a
way to quench it. He offers her water that is living that can quench her thirst forever. And she confusing this soul-talk with literal water-carrying, likes the idea of never having to make this wearisome journey to the well again. The kind of water Jesus is talking about doesn’t connect with her – so preoccupied is she by both the task in hand and the peculiar stranger who won’t let her get on with what she needs to do. Is that the reason for Jesus’ persistence in questioning her? Only in the questions does she come to realise that more is being said than handy-hints for water carriers. The questions reveal the depth of Jesus’ insight about her real struggles and concerns in life. He knows things about her that go
way beyond the commonplace. He knew about her deeper thirst; that she had not
found the water she truly needed in other relationships, even in marriage. What she thirsted for, all unknowing, was a relationship with God. That’s the gift of living water hat she has missed in her labour for daily water. A life-giving, fresh, vital relationship with the One who created her and loves her, is what will answer her thirst. This is the water Jesus offered her.
An interesting point I came across in studying this text is that in the language the woman used – Aramaic – the word for ‘husband’ is ‘ba-al,’ usually rendered as ‘lord’ or ‘master.’ But, of course, the word is also the name of an old Canaanite god – remember those
stories of Elijah’s struggles with the prophets of Baal. Devout Jews considered Samaritans to be apostates – those who had corrupted the pure faith with the ungodly influences of other religions. If we re-read verses from our Gospel reading replacing the word ‘husband’ with the word ‘god’ we can get closer insight, perhaps, to the nature of his conversation. Reading from verse 16 of John’s chapter 4 is would go like this:
16 Jesus said to her, ‘Go, call on your god, and come back.’
17 The woman answered him, ‘I have no god.’ Jesus said to her, ‘You are right in saying, “I have no god;” for you have had five gods, and the one you have now is not your
god. What you have said is true!’
19 The woman said to him, ‘Sir, I see that you are a prophet.’
Now the talk about the true place to worship comes into sharper focus. The woman stands for all of us who struggle to live with the reality of God. It is not just the Samaritan woman but all of us who get lost amongst false gods of laborious pressure, meaningless pleasure,
broken relationships, unfulfilled longings, and world-weary motives. Our physical needs are so clear to us, and we spend a good deal of our time and effort striving to meet those needs.
But just as surely as we have physical needs, we also have soul needs. We are spiritual beings. We need more than just food and water. We need companionship, love, friendship, affection, a sense of well being, a sense of belonging, and a yearning after meaning – these
things go beyond our physical needs, as important as they are.
The famous psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor, Victor Frankl, once repeated a public poll amongst his own patients and clinic personnel. The poll had found 89% of respondents admitted that they needed ‘something’ for the sake of which to live. And further, an incredible 61% said there was something or someone in their own lives for whom they were even ready to die. Frankl’s own survey produced similar findings, and he concluded,‘In other words, the will to meaning is in most people fact, not faith.’
The woman came with her tools – jar, water-skin and rope to dip from a deep well. Instead she found another well, a spring which needed no such tools. All she needed was a little cup of faith from which to sip – to dare to believe that this man sitting on the roadside was in fact the source of a spring of living water, the living presence of God. A sip is all that’s needed. A sip that prompts another and another, until self-knowledge is watered into bloom and what was parched becomes vibrant and alive.
There is something scary in this life-give, life-enhancing drink. This thirst-quenching God told the woman all she had ever done, as she put it. This is the God who knows every intimacy of our lives. This is the living water that washes the mucky glass until all is plainly seen through it. The Samaritan woman discovers the power of something we constantly shy away from – God’s absolutely total knowledge of each one of us. As every counsellor knows, there is an almighty resistance in each one of us to even trivial self-revelations. We hide the depth of our souls even from ourselves.
Martin Luther put it like this – ‘in every creature God is deeper, more internal, and more present than the creature is to himself.’ Our entire life – inner and outer – every thought, and desire, and feeling, and fantasy – is known to God. That thought was so disturbing to Luther that he desired that God not be God, ‘I did not love God. I hated the just God and was indignant toward him.’ Luther shocked himself when he realized how fearful, even hateful, he found that idea of God. This is the realisation to which the Samaritan woman
comes – the God who knows everything she has ever done.
Paul Tillich, one of the great theologians of the twentieth century put it like this, ‘God is inescapable. He is only God because he is inescapable. And only that which is inescapable is
God.’ That’s what so troubled the young Luther. To the woman at the well, however, this is good news. Could this be the Messiah? she says. The God she had wanted to run away from is the very ground of her existence and all existence. In other words, don’t take God’s all
knowingness as a threat; take it as a sign of his grace and mercy – something Luther came to appreciate. The everlasting arms are always there to support, uphold, guide and comfort – and even the things you won’t admit to yourself won’t make God withdraw those arms.
The Samaritan woman came with a water jar seeking to fulfil her everyday needs; she found the wellspring of life in all its fullness. And she went to tell others, ‘Come and see,’ she said – one thirsty soul telling others where to find water.
