The Water of Life

Lent 3, (Year A), March 23, 2014

Exodus 17:1-7, Psalm 95, Romans 5:1-11, John 4:5-42

Preached by Pastor Anna C. Haugen, Augustana and Birka Lutheran Churches, Underwood, ND

May the words of my mouth, and the meditations of my heart, be acceptable in your sight, my rock and my redeemer.

Grace and peace to you from God our Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ.

You know, when I wrote last week’s sermon and focused a bit on “being born from water and the Spirit,” I hadn’t yet looked ahead to this week’s lessons, to see that water would be an even bigger part of today’s Gospel. As the story begins, Jesus was travelling on his way, and he had to stop in a Samaritan town. Now, Jesus and all his disciples were Jewish, and Jews and Samaritans did not get along. There were religious and cultural differences that had led to an enmity stretching back hundreds of years. Think of the differences between Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland, or between Jews and Muslims in the Holy Land today. They worshipped the same God, but they told the sacred stories of Scripture differently, and while Jews believed the best place to worship God was in Jerusalem, the Samaritans believed that Mount Samaria was the best place. There wasn’t any danger of war between the two groups, but that was mostly because they tried to ignore each other as best they could even when they lived right next door. Jews and Samaritans didn’t talk to one another. They didn’t do business with one another. They certainly didn’t eat or drink with one another.

So there Jesus is, sitting by a well. It was an important well, with a long history, and a tradition that connected it to Jacob, who was an ancestor to both Jews and Samaritans. Both groups liked to pretend that the other group wasn’t really faithful to God; both Jews and Samaritans liked to claim that only their own people were right and the others were completely wrong. But that well was a reminder that they both worshipped the same God. They might fight—and fight bitterly—about what God’s Word meant, and how to worship God rightly, but they were all children of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

But beyond its history, reliable wells are incredibly valuable things in dry climates like the Middle East. Even if it was just a random well, it had given water to the community for centuries. The Holy Land isn’t like Egypt or Mesopotamia. They don’t have great big rivers that flow reliably through the country, giving water whenever they need it. They have the rain, when it comes, and they have wells. Each drop of water is precious. It can’t ever be taken for granted, because there is never enough of it. They depend on rain to grow their crops; if it doesn’t rain, the crops don’t grow, and if the well dries up, they have nothing to drink with, nothing to wash with. In Jesus’ day, there was no such thing as indoor plumbing. As in many third-world countries today, collecting water from the well was one of a woman’s most important daily tasks. Every drop the household used had to be carried from the well, sometimes miles away from home. It’s a heavy task, hot and painful. The walk out to the well isn’t bad, but the walk back is hard. Imagine carrying a large pot full of water for a mile several times a day. We today complain when a water line break means we don’t get water to our houses for a few days and we have to get it elsewhere and carry it home, how awkward it is when we don’t have running water for drinking and cooking and showering and flushing the toilet. But imagine living your entire life like that, with every drop of water your family uses carried for miles on your back.

So a Samaritan woman gets to the well and finds a Jewish man there. A bit unusual, but they’re on the road from Judea to Galilee, and after all, Jews like to come to Jacob’s Well too. She assumes that they’ll just ignore one another as Jews and Samaritans do. But as she’s lowering the bucket into the well, he speaks to her. Unlike Nicodemus last week, this woman was not coming for any spiritual enlightenment. She was just going about her daily chores, probably distracted with all the things that needed to be done that day. Did she have enough food for supper or would she have to go to the market? How much weeding did her garden need?

And then this Jewish guy she doesn’t know speaks up. “Give me a drink,” he says. Now, if he were a fellow Samaritan, this wouldn’t be anything remarkable. After all, what else would you expect someone sitting by a well to ask? But this isn’t a Samaritan, this is a Jew, and Jews and Samaritans don’t talk to one another and they certainly don’t eat and drink together, and here’s this Jew asking her for water? “You do realize that I’m a Samaritan?” she says. And the stranger starts talking about water.

Now, this is a woman who knows about water. She knows to the very marrow of her bones how important water is. She knows the thirst of getting to the end of the day and realizing they don’t have enough and it’s too late to go to the well again and so she’ll have to go to bed parched, lips cracking from the heat and dryness, swallowing repeatedly to try and keep her throat moist. She knows about making the hard choices—when water is scarce, who goes thirsty? What stays dirty? She knows how quickly people get sick and die without water. She knows the weight of water, carried step by aching step from this well back to the village every day of her life. Water? If there’s a better way to get it, she wants to know.

Jesus tells her, “Those who drink of the water I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” Jesus isn’t talking about the kind of water you can get in a well, he’s talking about living water, the kind that nourishes your soul and not your body. We tend to concentrate on the needs of our bodies—food and water and clothing and shelter. And certainly there’s nothing wrong with tending physical needs! But our souls have needs, too. Our souls get thirsty, too. Our souls need the water of life just as deeply as our bodies need physical water.

While we focus on our bodies, we let our souls wither away. We thirst for a deeper connection, with each other and with God; we can bury that thirst in all kinds of things. We go out looking for the water of life and try to convince ourselves that other things will do just as well. We fill our stomachs and hope that will fill our souls. We post the best parts of ourselves on Facebook and Twitter and hope that getting a lot of “likes” will fill our deep need for friendship and connection. We drink and hope that the oblivion of alcohol will soothe the hopes and fears that plague us. We put one another down and hope that feeling superior will fix the cracks in our own lives. We build rules and walls and hope that we can build something that will fill our souls. We look for living water in all the wrong places, and we pay heavy costs for things we think will fill that thirst.

But here’s the thing about living water: it’s free. It’s a gift that is free for everyone. Whether you’re an insider or an outsider; whether you’re good or bad; whether you’re a man or a woman; whether you’re rich or poor. All you have to do is ask. The woman at the well, and thousands like her, work hard every day for water, but the living water flows freely for everyone. It comes through Jesus, in the love he has for each and every one of us. It comes as God comes to us, calls us by name, and builds a relationship with us. Jesus knew that woman, even though she didn’t know him; he knew everything she’d ever done. He knew the good parts and the bad parts, and he loved her and called her, warts and all. Just one encounter with him was enough to change her life. She still had to go to Jacob’s Well for water to drink, but her soul’s thirst was quenched.

And her encounter with Jesus didn’t just change her life, it changed her community’s life, too. She told them about her experience with Jesus, and that experience brought others to Jesus, too. She didn’t have any fancy training; she was no Bible expert. She didn’t win them over by quoting long passages of Scripture. She told them about her experience with God, a God in human form who knew her better than anyone in her life ever had and loved her and called her by name. Jesus gave her the fountain of living water, and through her that living water came to her whole community. The divisions between Jew and Samaritan—that great gaping chasm that ruled their lives—wasn’t important any longer. The old barriers were knocked down. The living water is for everyone. God’s love is for everyone. It’s not a scarce commodity to be rationed out by the cup to those who deserve it. It’s a wellspring that gushes forth with more than enough for everyone in the whole world. We go out looking for things to quench our soul’s thirst, and all the time Jesus is giving out living water. May we hear him when he comes to us.

Amen.

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