“A Deeper Well”
John 4:3-15
Some sermons leave me feeling as if they need an epilogue, a prosaic summing up of sorts. Today’s message is different; I felt it demanded a prologue, a humble acknowledgement of the larger context in which it was written and will be offered.
We may think that context is obvious; we may think it goes without saying. But I am feeling a need to say it:
These are not normal times. In addition to all the stress, love, joy, grief, non-stop activity and low-level chaos many of us live with much of the time, a new “collective strain” of instability, uncertainty, sadness, and outrage shapes our days. The ground beneath us shifts day-by-day as legal, political, military, social, and behavioral norms are disregarded and defied by the insecure people running our country.
We want to be strong in hope and fierce in our resistance, but the daily drumbeat of cruelty and death takes a toll. We want to ground ourselves in God’s goodness and call on God’s grace, but sometimes we wonder where God is.
These are just some of the reasons why today’s sermon will focus on the deeper well that the way of Jesus offers us. These are some of the reasons why this sermon got not only a prologue, but also a re-write.
We are thirsty for hope, our souls are hungry for good news, and we need to remember that God offers us living water and the bread of heaven.
And this is why, although the story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well begs an entire sermon on how first-century Jesus of Nazareth treated women vs. how many 21st-century Christians treat women, that will not be today’s primary message.
Let’s just note that Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman crosses every religious and cultural line—and it produces the longest dialogue Jesus has with anyone in all the gospels. Let’s also remember that after Jesus reveals himself to the unnamed woman as the Messiah, she goes forth to share that news with her entire village—thus becoming the first evangelist. And yet the church has judged her as a woman with a series of husbands and a live-in partner, utterly ignoring the reality that women of her time and place had no authority to initiate or dissolve a marriage or spurn the advances of a man.
But that is not today’s sermon.
Today’s story comes to remind us that the way of Jesus is paved with blessing, and that anyone—and everyone—can access those blessings.
All it takes is the courage to acknowledge our need, a willingness to connect with others, a mind open to change, and an open heart designed to expand.
In a world that barely recognizes our spiritual longings and, when it does, promises to satisfy them with toxic positivity, passing fads, and mountains of material stuff, we need to draw from a deeper well.
Enter Jesus and the Samaritan woman.
Jesus begins the deeper-well demonstration by noticing that he is tired. Surely, he could have accompanied his disciples as they went into town to buy food, but he was worn out. And so he stopped to rest.
Friends, do we even notice when we are tired? Or are we pushing too hard even to pause and consider how we’re doing?
I invite you to take this moment, right now, to consider how it is with your soul. No judgment, no excuses, just noticing. Be aware that your soul’s condition may manifest in your body and/or your mood. So, go ahead and take stock. I’ll be quiet for a moment.
[pause]
We’re going to continue now, but I encourage you to remember what you’ve felt and noticed, because as important as noticing is, it is not enough.
We don’t know how long Jesus has been sitting at the well, but when the Samaritan woman shows up, he doesn’t hesitate to ask her for help. Just by speaking to the woman, Jesus is violating cultural and religious norms, but he understands that those rules and divisions are not of God. He trusts that God values our well-being and our connection over small-minded views that separate us from one another, and so he humbles himself, asking the woman for a drink.
Friends, do we reach out when we’re in need? Or do we tell ourselves that we’re okay, that we can handle things on our own? Do we focus on not “bothering” anyone?
I invite you to take this moment, right now, to consider what you do when you know you need help. How good are you at asking for and receiving help? Whom do you ask?
Take another moment to reflect on these important questions.
[pause]
Now, I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest that this woman at the well is not from New England—because she clearly doesn’t know how to bite her tongue, swallow her feelings, and do what is asked of her with the least amount of fuss.
No, she just puts it all out there, pointing out that Jesus shouldn’t be talking to her, sharing some of her own ideas, and then doing her best to take advantage of this awkward situation. If this clueless, bucket-less guy has access to some kind of special water, she thinks, maybe he could help her out.
And that’s when Jesus has to explain that he’s not talking about literal water from a physical well, but the kind of spiritual nourishment that flows continually from the generous and bottomless heart of God. That’s when Jesus offers the woman living water from a deeper well.
And that’s where the story invites us to consider our own hunger and thirst, our own longings.
This is important on several levels, not the least of which is our own healing and wholeness. Also, as most of us are aware, when we’re tired or hopeless, unable to ask for help, and unwilling to acknowledge our deepest longings, things can go sideways.
These conditions have been known to provoke behaviors ranging from snapping at someone for no good reason to dragging people out of their homes or starting a war for no good reason to buying lots of stuff we don’t need. All because we have not tended our souls. All because we are spiritually or emotionally “hangry.” All because we’re dying of thirst even as we sit beside a waterfall of love.
The French philosopher Simone Weil went so far as to say that “all sins are attempts to fill voids,” or, I would add, efforts to numb or ignore or project the pain we feel because of the longings that have gone unmet. Or, as the old song says, the trouble we get into when we look for love—or happiness, success, influence, or hope—in all the wrong places.
And, so—yes, you guessed it—we’re going to take a few moments of silence to consider what we most long for. And let me be clear: I am not asking you to elevate your hopes for the world. Of course, all of us hunger and thirst for justice and peace. But I’m talking about you, about each one of us, and what we most want and new for our own heart and soul.
“What is one ache that you’ve been minimizing or ignoring?” Can you name it? What would it look like to, instead of looking for a quick fix, take it to God?
Take a moment to reflect on these questions.
[pause]
Beloveds, the way of Jesus offers food and drink for our souls, a deeper well that dispenses much-needed strength, hope, and peace.
“Not as the world gives,” Jesus says of the peace he offers us, meaning not fleeting satisfaction or a temporary fix, but rather real, lasting peace.
Friends, we need that peace.
“Not as the world gives,” Jesus says of the water the Samaritan woman has come for, meaning an endless supply of living water that quenches our spiritual thirst.
Friends, we need that kind of sustenance.
Especially when our political system is hellbent on dividing us from one another, our economic system is determined to separate us from creation, and our culture is intent on creating boundaries to belonging, we need to know that we stand together on solid, holy ground.
The way of Jesus is a lifelong journey, and there is no greater blessing than to be on that adventure together. Every single person is invited to come along. If we are able to rest when we are tired and grieve when we are sad, if we are able to ask for help, and to take our longings to the Source of Love and Life, we will not go thirsty. We will not go hungry.
And both we and the world will be better for it.
