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LINKS TO THE SERMONS |
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| “The Eyes of Love” Let’s begin with the ending. Actually John’s gospel has two endings: chapters 20 and 21. It’s rather like classical music, you keep thinking it’s over then it goes on a bit longer. Chapter 21 ends with these words, “There are also many other things which Jesus did; were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.” And, chapter 20 ends with these words, “Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book; but these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing you may have life in his name.” These two endings provide two important pieces of information; (First) that John had lots of information to draw from, enough stories to fill a library so large that the world itself could not contain it. (Second) that the reason John chose these particular stories to include in his book is because they tell us something important about this Jesus that enables us to believe that he is actually the Son of God. So, we have this story of an un-named Samaritan woman occupying a prominent place at the beginning of John’s telling of the Jesus story. It’s a long story. The part we read today is only the first half. We will revisit the story again in next Sunday’s sermon in order to do it justice. This story is what they call in the movies, an “establishing shot.” It gives us a context into which the rest of the story can be read and through which it can be interpreted. In Matthew’s gospel, the establishing shot is the Sermon on the Mount, an interpretation of the Law of Moses so out of the box that even his closest disciples walk away shaking their heads. In Luke’s gospel it is the story of the sermon in Jesus’ home synagogue in Nazareth where his interpretation of the text from the book of Isaiah is so outrageous that the congregation tries to throw him over a cliff. In every case the ‘establishing shot’, story, is there for the same purpose, to show us that this Jesus is not going to be what anyone expected. He has completely redefined the role. Like Johnny Depp playing Captain Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean; no one ever envisioned an actor playing a pirate like that. But if anyone could pull it off, Johnny Depp could and did. So, all of these establishing shot stories in the gospels are there to show us that this is not your father’s idea of what the Messiah will be like - but if anybody can pull it off, Jesus can. This story about the Samaritan woman at the well is exactly that kind of story. According to the lectionary, this reading was supposed to begin at verse seven but that leaves out some essential “establishing” information that is the key to what the story is about and why it is there. It’s not a story about the woman at the well; it’s a story about Jesus and what sort of messiah he is going to be. He’s traveling from Judea back home to Galilee and has to pass through Samaria, or so the story goes. Well, no he didn’t. It was the shortest route but most Jews took the long way around so as not to come into contact with any of “those” people. Any self-respecting Jewish boy would travel the extra distance to avoid potential contamination. Especially if he was trying to build a reputation as an emerging rabbi; it’s politically dangerous to be seen as having improper relationships with lobbyists or Samaritans, everyone knows that. The anticipated Messiah would have been expected to know that; he would be careful to map his journey so that he could eat at kosher restaurants and drink from Jewish wells. Not Jesus. Perhaps at this point I should insert a parenthesis to catch some of you up on the history of why this animosity exists between these close neighbors. A thousand years earlier when the kingdom was established under King Saul, Samaria was the capitol. It was King David who moved the capitol city to Jerusalem. Then when the kingdom was divided between the feuding sons of Solomon, the ten northern tribes related to Samaria and the two southern tribes to Jerusalem. Subsequently the northern kingdom, Israel, was conquered by the Assyrians, and then a century plus later, the southern kingdom, Judah, by the Babylonians. But, after eighty years or so, the exiles from Judah returned to Jerusalem, rebuilt the city and re-established the Law of Moses. The people in the north, now called Samaria, were a mixed breed; the old Israelites who remained intermarried with their conquerors and became the Samaritans. Interestingly they were as loyal to the God of Abraham and the Law of Moses as their neighbors to the south, but were always looked upon as a lower class, a tainted people, to be avoided by every good, pure Jew. Jesus trashed that tradition; chose to cut right through Samaria and rather than avoiding contact with “those” people, seemed to intentionally engage them. What makes the encounter all the more outrageous was the timing; the time of day when Jesus arrived at the well may have been coincidental but for the woman it was not. The scripture says it happened at about the sixth hour. The day began in that culture at sunrise, so the sixth hour would be around noon. The times when people came to the well were first thing in the morning and just at sunset. The only person who would come at noon would be a social outcast, someone no one would associate with if she came at the normal times. Jesus saw her there at noon; he knew what that meant – she knew that he knew what that meant. Any self-respecting Jewish aspiring rabbi would avoid that situation like the plague –not Jesus. Jesus trashed that tradition too. At this point in the story, if it were a movie, there would be an audible gasp from the audience. Jesus approaches the woman and speaks to her. Nobody would do that! Jesus did. John wants you to see that this messiah is going to break all the rules, even the long established social mores. In the next sentence he engages her in philosophical conversation about living water. No rabbi would ever do that. Women had no training or understanding about such things; they knew about cooking, childbirth and laundry, everybody knew that. Jesus engages a woman of Samaria who he knows to be a woman of ill-repute in a conversation about spiritual things. We know what sort of woman this is; the question raised by this story is, what kind of messiah is this? Answer – a quixotic messiah. Of course we wouldn’t have that word for another fifteen hundred years until Miguel de Cervantes wrote his glorious story about Don Quixote, the hapless knight who spent his life committed to a code of honor long since grown obsolete and even laughable, and tilting at windmills – the ultimate metaphor for futility. When ever that image is applied in our society it is a term a derision to identify lost causes and those who pursue them. Certainly when Cervantes envisioned his character, he had Jesus in mind: Jesus traveling the countryside with twelve Sancho Panzas, talking about love in an angry world, peace in a violent world, forgiveness in a world that believed in eye-for-an-eye justice. He came to talk about the kingdom of God to a world that knew the only kingdom that mattered was Rome. Then, one Sunday, he rides into Jerusalem like the rightful heir to the throne of David – on a borrowed donkey. That is the quintessential definition of “quixotic.” Cervantes gave it a name - and also a name for the heretofore nameless woman at the well. He named her Aldonza, but Jesus would rename her, Dulcinia. Who is this messiah? John is asking in this “establishing” story at the front of his gospel – one who looks at people, even despised foreigners and social outcasts, through the eyes of love. The world saw a woman of questionable linage and virtue, one to be avoided for fear of contamination or damage to one’s reputation. Jesus saw a child of God, he saw Dulcinea, which means “sweet one”. In the musical version of this story Don Quixote addresses her as “My Lady.” Aldonza is not impressed. “I’m not your lady! I’m not any kind of lady! I was spawned in a ditch by a mother who left me there, naked and cold and too hungry to cry, I never blamed her. I’m sure she left hoping that I’d have the good sense to die. Then, of course, there is my father… I’m
told that young ladies can point to their fathers with maidenly
pride; mine was some regiment here for an hour, I can’t even
tell you which side! The Aldonza at the well wasn’t easily moved either – her tone, I imagine is brittle with suspicion when she speaks, “How is that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria? Jews don’t have any dealings with Samaritans.” Then Jesus offers her living water in words not unlike those Don Quixote would speak to Aldonza, “Still you are my lady. Now and forever, thou art my lady, Dulcinea. Dulcinea, I see heaven when I see thee and thy name is like a prayer an angel whispers.” That’s how Jesus saw this woman at the well.
That’s why John chose to tell this story. That’s how
Jesus sees you – through the eyes of love. That’s how
he sees you because that’s who he is. This story is told that
you might believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and that believing
you may have life in his name. “And now I do believe, that
even in the storm, we’ll find some light; knowing you’re
beside me, I’m alright.
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