Water at Noon

Scripture Lessons: Exodus and John 4: 5-42 Sermon title: Water at Noon Preached on March 15, 2020 This is the second sermon in a group of four based on these long accounts from the Gospel of John. I just read from verse 5 to verse 42. Rarely would I read 37 verses at one time, but to get the full story we have to read the full story. So, this morning we have another moving and beautiful moment in the ministry of Jesus for our Second Scripture Lesson. It’s not so unlike the reading from last week, nor is it unlike the reading that will be for next week in the sense that, consistent with the entire Gospel of John, there is an ongoing theme of darkness and light, a highly developed character in this unnamed woman at the well, and there’s an important but subtle detail that the author includes which we shouldn’t over-look. You might remember that last Sunday the detail from the Gospel of John was that Nicodemus, a Pharisee and leader of the Jews, went to visit Jesus at night. “Why at night?” we wondered. I believe the Gospel of John tells us that he went at night because he didn’t want to be exposed. Had he been seen at the doorstep of Jesus he would have risked all kinds of things: rights, privileges, status, or relationships. He couldn’t go to visit this radical Savior during the day, because had he been seen with Jesus, he might have lost his place at the top of his religious order. He might even have been rejected by his community. What we know about this woman at the well based on one subtle detail is that she already has been. She had already lost so much. She had already been rejected. She had already fallen down the social ladder because of who she was and what she’d done. We know that because when Jesus was thirsty, he went to this well at noon, and she was the only one to meet him there. That’s the important but subtle detail. Noon. The Gospel of John tells us what time it was because the time tells us something about this woman. That Jesus went to the well when he was thirsty at noon is not surprising. What’s surprising is that this woman was there at that time of day. Prompted by the text, we must ask why, and I tell you, it’s because in the middle of the day, when the sun was at its highest was the time when no one else would be there. That means she’s like the woman who quit going to Weight Watchers and started just weighing-in in her bathroom because the numbers were going in the wrong direction at the weekly weigh-ins and she didn’t want everyone there to see that she was gaining weight instead of losing it. It means she’s like the man who kept being criticized for drinking too much at parties. Because he felt powerless to do anything about it he started drinking by himself at home. She’s like the prepper who got so fed up with the world and trying to fit into it that he got off the grid. What happened to this woman? Why was she at the well at noon? Well, having tried and failed, she finally gave up. They whispered behind her back, but she knew what they were saying. She’s the aunt, sister, or daughter who’s been married five times and has settled for a sixth because everyone says she’s trash and she started to believe them. Without enough pride to resist but enough to know she doesn’t have to be there when they say it, she started going to the well at noon. Now, this all happened about 2,000 years ago, but still, you probably know her because the same thing still happens all the time. Do you know the woman at the well? I feel sure that you do, because while now we drink water out of bottles instead of out of wells, we still push some people outside the circle, and those of us who are on the inside keep quiet because we know what will happen if we don’t. Nicodemus was that way. He went to Jesus at night because he didn’t want to end up like this woman at the well. Her story is a classic tragedy that’s been relived and retold again and again. From High School English Class you remember Hester Prynne with that scarlet letter “A” broadcasting her sin for all to see. Everyone in town knew her story. Everyone knew what she had done. Everyone knew everything about her. Even visitors to her town knew to keep their distance because of the scarlet letter “A” she was forced to where. Unlike Hester Prynne this woman at the well bore no obvious distinction. Maybe she assumed that Jesus was too thirsty to know he shouldn’t be asking her for anything. Maybe she thought he was too desperate to know it would hurt his reputation just to be seen with her. Still, there he was, by her side, at noon. What he said to her is funny: “Give me a drink.” You would think that Jesus would say “Please,” but he didn’t. “Give me a drink,” he said, which is a funny thing to ask of a person who was widely pitied and never needed. “Give me a drink,” is a funny thing to request from a woman who everyone talked about but no one wanted to be seen with. “Give me a drink,” is a radical request when you consider that if Moses could strike a rock with a stick and make water come out than Jesus could have snapped his fingers and Perrier would have fallen from the clouds. Still, to this woman, first of all he spoke, which was something, second of all he asked her for help, which was something else. I’ve been thinking and thinking about what Jesus does here, because I understand what’s going on with this woman more than I understand what was going on in the mind of the Son of God, and I think that’s because our society is pushing all of us into this place that the woman at the well found herself in. Right now, two words well describe our situation: isolation and fear. It’s hard to know what we, as the church should do in a situation like this one. Having watched the news last Thursday night, Rev. Cassie Waits called so we could talk about it. Together we began discussing what we should do about having church today. We talked about schools closing, even the NBA closing down. After talking with Cassie, I called some other staff members. I called Rev. Joe Brice, the Sage of Paulding County. After talking about quarantine and lowering the curve he told me that this was a good Sunday to preach the Gospel, because the isolation we’re all being pushed into this Sabbath Day isn’t so different from the isolation that society is always pushing us towards. He’s right. We need to gather, but it’s always a temptation to stay home. Not just now, that’s always a temptation. So also, we need our neighbors, but we’re always fearful about reaching out to them, whether they might carry the virus or not. We crave community, but shame and anxiety are always telling us we’ll be rejected. Then we don’t like how things are but we feel powerless to do anything about it. Even without the voluntary quarantine, the well is the place that our 21st Century was already driving us towards because social distancing isn’t anything new. Neither is it anything new for the future to feel so uncertain, nor is it a new feeling to feel like we must walk the lonesome valley by ourselves. Only wait and listen. Wait just a minute, for along comes Jesus saying, “Give me a drink.” For her, after that request, a theological discussion ensued. What their discussion came down to was that the Lord told the woman he knew who she was. He wasn’t talking with her because he was naïve. He knew where she had been, what she’d done, and how many men she’d been married to. He told her that he knew how she worshiped at the wrong place and was looking for salvation in the wrong places. She couldn’t hide anything from the people of her community because they already knew, and this new guy knew it all and went to her any way. It wasn’t because he was ignorant that he spoke to her. It was because he was different. Then she said to him, “I know that Messiah is coming. When he comes he will proclaim all things to us.” Having already done that he said, “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.” After that the woman left her water jar and went back to the city, and listen to what she said, “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?” You know what changed with that announcement? The woman who had been all alone ran towards the city. The one who had nothing to offer brought her people the greatest news that’s ever been heard. And the Lord who came to the well thirsty, asking for water, never even got a sip. I feel sure that was just fine with Jesus, because he’s never so concerned with his own wellbeing so much as he’s concerned with the wellbeing of our whole world. For the Lord was thirsty, but he’s calling on us to offer to the world a sip of water, and like her we must be convinced that we have any right to do it. That’s why I wrote you last Friday. It’s because her life was changed. She became someone different. Not confined by what the world said about her but transformed by the power of Christ she became, not the one who everyone talked about, but one who changed her entire village by what she had to say. She wasn’t alone. Christ was with her. And she wasn’t powerless, but powerful. The change that happened within this woman at the well reminds me of the words of Marianne Williamson: Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. I heard that quote in a movie Lily and I were watching yesterday morning. Hearing it I was reminded that Jesus is all the time interrupting our solitude, hopelessness, and fear to remind us that our most basic words and most simple efforts bring to the world faith, hope, and love. In these strange times, will you tell his story? Will you live his truth? Amen.