Metaphorically Speaking

So he came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon. A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink” [John 4:5-7].

By the time you read this meditation, I’ll be well into the “serious” prep segment related to my colonoscopy, scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. I suspect that most of you have undergone that special rite of passage (pun intended). This will be my fourth, all spread out over 20+ years—all unremarkable, at least so far. Following the instructions given me by the Duke Med Center’s G.I. lab, I have consumed several gallons of water over the past 12 hours. Water, water, everywhere …, I’m quite tired of drinking water.

Why do I divulge this detail about my life? I suppose it’s because my current distaste for water is wonderfully countered by the Gospel reading for this upcoming Sunday—John 4:5-42 (the third Sunday in Lent, RCL, Year A). You see, in the story told by the Fourth Evangelist, water—or rather the thirst for special water—is the centerpiece of the longest recorded conversation between Jesus and anyone in the New Testament.

Those of us who argue and/or insist that Christianity is founded upon and reflects the patriarchal world of first century Palestine should pause to reflect upon the fact that, as I have just indicated, this long, intricate, theologically charged conversation between our Lord and another human being isn’t between two rabbis. It isn’t between Jesus and one of the Twelve. It isn’t between Jesus and one of the larger group of followers mentioned so strongly by the Gospel writer. It’s between Jesus and a woman.

To be sure, in first century Palestine, women did not enjoy a place of public prominence. A Jewish man refused to speak to a woman unless he was married or related to her. Pharisees didn’t even speak to their wives in public. Hebrew men began their mornings with the Shema: “Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is one ….” But the Hebrew man also added another prayer—one that is still prayed in conservative Jewish settings—thanking Yahweh that he was not a Gentile, or a slave, or a woman.

The woman who encountered Jesus at the well wasn’t just a woman; she is a Samaritan woman. While Samaritans had once been considered fully Hebrew, they had not been deported to Babylon as had “useful” Hebrews in and around Jerusalem. With so many Hebrews gone, many Samaritans began to intermarry with “outsiders.” And so the Samaritans too were considered outsiders, half-breeds. Moreover, they thought the mountain near Sychar was the place of sacred worship, not the Jerusalem Temple. This produced deep tension and enmity.

So, the woman was a woman and a Samaritan woman at that. Well, there’s one more thing: She had a reputation. Respectable women came to draw water in the morning, when it was cooler and when they could converse with their sisters. This woman came at noon. Perhaps she’d grown tired of the looks from the others. Perhaps she was weary of the muttering when she came to draw water in the morning. She seems to have determined that she can avoid the women—avoid her shame—if she comes to the well when no one else is there, at high noon.

Imagine what she must have thought when this obviously Jewish man also came to the well in the heat of the day. He speaks to her. He asks for a drink. Has he lost his mind? Has he no religion, no faith? Even if she were to give water to him, he could not drink from her “tainted” bucket. She’s a Samaritan. Anything she touches is unclean.

We’re left to reflect upon whether Jesus is actually thirsty, or whether he has different thoughts, for he goes off onto a tangent. He tells her that if she knew who had asked her for a drink, she would instead have asked him, since he would give her “living water” [4:10].

“Living water,” she almost laughs. She points out that Jesus has no bucket. She adds a pregnant question:

Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well and with his sons and his flocks drank from it? [4:12].

“Is he greater?” He’ll answer her question, but not immediately. Instead, they continue their joust. It reminds us a bit of our Lord’s conversation with Nicodemus. The latter thought Jesus was talking about returning to the womb. This woman thinks Jesus is talking about the H-2-O at the bottom of the shaft, or perhaps the substance that I’ve been drinking (with medications) for some time. She says, “Sir, give me this water.” And then, the conversation turns.

In a total non sequitur, Jesus tells her to go get her husband. Startled, she thought they were in the midst of a theological discussion, she tells him she has no husband. To which, Jesus responds:

You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband,’ for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband [4:17b-18a].

Jesus has moved the woman to uncomfortable ground. She decides that it’s best to disengage, to change the subject. “Let’s go back to religious matters. They’re safer,” she thinks. And so, she drifts off to the long-running debate between the Samaritans and Jews: Samaritans worship on the mountain; the Jews worship at the Temple in Jerusalem.

But her attempt at diversion is unsuccessful. She retreats, Jesus advances. He doubles-down, telling her that “the hour is coming and is now here when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth [4:23]. Feigning to soften the power of His words, perhaps even to emphasize some common ground between this strange man and herself, she says, “I know that Messiah is coming” [4:25].

Now, however, she finds herself even more deeply bound by the man, for Jesus says to her, “I am he, the one who is speaking to you” [4:26].

Can we see that in John’s Gospel, this unnamed woman is the first to hear the Messiah’s eschatological affirmation of identity? Remember, She’s a she. She’s a Samaritan. She’s someone who is deep in sin and yet, she’s the first who hears His clear disclosure. And so, despite her gender, despite her nationality, despite “her past,” she must share what she has learned. She runs to her home to tell the Gospel—the good news. To the chagrin of some segments of the Christian church who refuse to accept women as pastors/preachers, “Many Samaritans from that city believed in Him because of the woman’s testimony.”

Can we see that In Jesus’ act of telling her who she is, Jesus has fully disclosed who He is? And what is more, Jesus is still doing the same thing today. As I’ve written in the past, He’s the One who crashes through any hell, who will cross every border, every boundary to get to you. He’s the One who will break any rule of decorum, who will pull down any wall, climb any mountain, and cross any sea to tell you who you are! Just as he went to the well at high noon—without a bucket or dipper—to reach the Samaritan woman, to tell her who she was and, therefore, who He is, He does that in our world today as well.

Water, water, everywhere …. Years ago, in a New Testament course at Duke on the Fourth Gospel, taught by the Reverend Dr. Moody Smith, internationally-known Johannine scholar (now deceased), Moody asked if anyone in the small class—there were maybe 10 of us—could expound a bit upon the “living water” described by Jesus in John, chapter 4.

In an attempt to avoid being called upon by a professor who would later become a good friend, I shuffled through some papers, messed with my fountain pen, and tried to look nondescript. Upon reflection, I now recognize that I was emulating the Samaritan woman, thinking that if I kept my head down, I could be invisible. I was relieved when a brave classmate raised his hand and, upon being recognized, began with something like, “When Jesus spoke about ‘living water,’ he was, of course, speaking metaphorically, just as He was when He suggested to Nicodemus that it was necessary to be ‘born again.’”

“Metaphorically?” Dr. Smith interrupted. He gently added, “So, if I understand you correctly, the Samaritan woman who’d been shunned by others, who could avoid ridicule only by drawing her water during the hottest time of the day, whose culture demanded that she avoid all men, particularly those who looked like they might be a Jewish rabbi, that she dropped her bucket [see 4:28] and ran back to her people to tell them about a metaphor?”

The student, now quite flustered, chuckled to himself.

Moody continued, “Jesus told her he could provide her with ‘living water.’ It’s abundantly clear that she believed Him.” Moody paused, then added, “Do you?”

Well, do you?