To Be Fully Known
Have
you ever had that experience of talking to a stranger on a plane, or a train or
a bus on a long trip, and when you get to talking about where you’re going and
why, end up telling your whole life story?
Maybe even revealing personal details or some of your deepest secrets, things
you don’t really talk about much in every day life? What is it about talking to a stranger that
sometimes provides that blank slate that quietly encourages us to really give
people the whole picture of who we are?
I
know I’ve been having a lot of conversations lately with strangers, or people
who maybe were strangers but aren’t anymore. But plenty of times in my life I was the
talker, sometimes to a stranger, sometimes to a friend – where I ended up
telling someone way more than I had intended.
The details just come tumbling out to round-out the story, or to explain
my motivations. Often, I need a
conversation to put my thoughts or feelings into words. Sometimes those unexpected
conversations leave me with newfound understanding of things I felt deep down,
but hadn’t said out loud, and so hadn’t really recognized them fully. Maybe
you’ve had the experience like this… where processing thoughts out loud, in the process of
telling a stranger, has helped you understand yourself better.
In
today’s scripture, Jesus meets a woman at a well. Now, there are two very interesting symbolic
things happening here that I want to make sure you know. First off, John makes
a point of telling us that this is Jacob’s well, on Jacob’s land, which – to
the person who knows their Hebrew Bible like John’s audience does – it is a
very important well. This is where Jacob
first met and fell in love with Rachel.
If this was a romantic comedy, this would be setting the scene – a
significant place where you first learn the two protagonists in the story.
Secondly,
this story comes immediately after the story of Nicodemus, who we talked about
last week. Who remembers anything about
Nicodemus? I know, from experience, that
sermons are hard to remember even one day later – that is, unless you are
writing them – but tell me, what do you remember about Nicodemus last week?
-
Rabbi,
teacher, judge, member of the ruling council
-
He
came to Jesus under the cover of darkness
-
Couldn’t
really wrap his head around what Jesus was saying… or couldn’t let go of his religious
rules to know what to do for Jesus’ message…
Immediately after that conversation
with Nicodemus, Jesus starts his travel to the Galilee by way of Sychar, a town
in Samaria. The Samaritans were not just
a marginalized group – they were a hated people. They were the sworn enemies of Israel. Samaria and Israel had been at war for years
over the right place to worship God. The
Samaritans believed it was right to worship God on the Mount of Gorazim, and
Israel insisted God must be worshipped in Jerusalem.
So these two stories are set side by
side as a contrast of belief. After
speaking with Nicodemus – a Pharisee, a member of the Sanhedrin, a teacher of
Israel, who can only visit Jesus under the cover of darkness, Jesus meets this
woman, this unknown woman, this un-named woman, this foreigner, this sworn
enemy of Israel, in the light of day at the well.
And has a conversation.
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It seems minor, just a conversation,
but we see from the Disciples reaction that it is, indeed, scandalous. Not only is she a foreigner from a hated
enemy. Not only was Jesus crossing the
boundary from ‘chosen people’ – the Israelites – to ‘rejected people’ – the Samaritans. But Jesus was also crossing the male-female
boundary. Jesus was a Rabbi. Under Jewish law, Rabbis don’t speak to women
in public. You can see the disciples, once they show up, won’t stoop to
actually speak to her, even though they have a lot to say. But Jesus initiates the conversation – and
then asks for a drink! From her
cup! Even the Samaritan woman knows
enough about Jewish purity codes to call this out as unfathomable.
And then we come to the thick of the
story. I know, as a kid, what always
stood out to me was not Jacob’s well, or the comparison to Nicodemus, but –
what? The 5 husbands, right? This is usually what people remember about
this scripture is the woman’s 5 husbands – and that the one she’s currently
with is not her husband.
5 husbands. When we hear that through 21st
century ears, that conjures up some impressions, right? Some caricatures of women referenced movies
or TV shows, like a son might roll his eyes about getting in touch with his
mother, who’s on husband #5.... We end
up making some presumptions about the woman.
Some judgment about her life and her character. Truly, this story has often been used as an
example of a sinful, ‘loose’ woman. Someone
who has made bad choices in their life, and yet still Jesus, Our Savior, will
extend a compassionate hand to someone so far out of his circle of
respectability, the lowest of the low, that we are moved by his generosity.
But is she really? Who really is this un-named, unknown
woman? If we hear this story with 1st
century ears instead of 21st century ears, there are some
discrepancies.
The first thing we need to acknowledge
is that in the 1st century, women were not in control of their
marriage or their divorce. The customs
of the time might suggest that women were like property. A groom, or a father of the groom, would
provide a dowry to the father of the bride in exchange for his daughter. The word ‘dowry’ puts a nice name on it, but
another take on that might be, ‘purchase price.’ For instance, look at Jacob. The ancient story of the well tells us that
Jacob sees Rachel at the well, who was very beautiful, and falls in love with
her. He goes to her father to ask for
her in marriage, and pledges to work for 7 years to earn her from her
father. Yet, at the last minute, her
father gives Jacob Rachel’s older sister Leah to marry – because it was not
right to let the younger daughter marry before the older daughter. So, Jacob,
still in love with Rachel, agrees to work for another 7 years in order that he
might also have Rachel as his wife.
At no point in the story of Jacob do we
hear of the women being consulted.
The second thing to acknowledge is the unwavering
expectation of offspring. Producing an
heir was central to the tribal structure of the ancient Israelites. Remember, Abraham’s offspring were going to
number ‘like the stars’. Reproduction –
and its challenges – are a reoccuring theme of blessedness and redemption in
scripture. The Hebrew Bible has several
stories of miraculous conceptions – not just the Virgin Mary, but also Sarah
and Abraham, Rebekah and Isaac, and Elizabeth and Zacchariah – who birthed John
the Baptist. In scripture, all of these
women are described as struggling with childlessness. In each case, the man is painted as described
very warmly - perhaps because under Jewish law, barrenness was grounds for
divorce.
In ancient Israel, divorce was easy for
a man but impossible for a woman. And childlessness
was the most common reason for divorce.
There are two ways that this woman, who
is not in control of her own status of marriage, would have 5 husbands. One is divorce, most likely for
barrenness. The other is to be widowed,
in which case she may be ensnared in the custom of Levirate Marriage.
Levirate,
deriving from the Latin word Levir
that means brother, is a type
of marriage in which the brother of a deceased man is obliged to
marry his brother's widow, and the widow is obliged to marry her deceased husband's
brother. Israel practiced
the custom of Levirate marriage – which was common in tribal societies and
still happens today in some places. Levirate marriage can, at its most
positive, serve as protection for the widow and her children, ensuring that they
have a male provider and protector. It is most common in patriarchal societies
where women are not self-sufficient and must rely on men to provide for them - especially
if women are under the authority, or dependent on men, or regarded as
possessions or servants of their husbands.
It also helps to ensure the survival of the clan.
This unknown, un-named woman at the well is not
someone who has been frivolous with her personal life. That she has been married and widowed, or
married and divorced, several times over is certainly more devastating to her
than we can imagine. The most likely scenario is that this
is a woman who has been ABANDONED by 5 men, probably because of
barrenness. If she is with a man that is
not her husband, then it is because the man chooses not to marry her – and
still, given that her existence depends on being taken care of by a man, this
may be a merciful arrangement for the woman, and she’s likely grateful for it.
In
this moment at the well, Jesus names the most intimate, deepest, most painful
truth of this woman’s life: that she is out of relationship, that she has never
been loved.
He
doesn’t ask her about her husband to shame her or blame her. If we take off our 21st century
ears and look closely in the text – there are no words of contempt, or redress,
in this story. He does not offer
redemption or infer that she needs forgiveness.
Because, this is not a woman that needs forgiveness. This is a woman that needs acceptance. This is a woman that needs relationship. This is a woman who needs belonging. She needs to be known and to be loved. Jesus knows this without being told, and tells
her of a new day coming.
And
in fact, it is this moment of truth, this deep secret-telling, this airing of
the most painful fact in this woman’s life that makes her conversion
possible. It was the moment of
vulnerability, of sharing what’s in her heart, that made it possible for her to
see God’s presence in Jesus. It was in the
act of being fully known that she becomes open to God’s possibility. It was in hearing her truth spoken so clearly
that her eyes are open to see Jesus as the Messiah.
We
can see this because she moves immediately to the critical theological question
of her time – as a holy person, tell me where is the proper place to
worship? Some say she responds to an
uncomfortable truth by changing the subject. But I think she’s gutsy! If you met Jesus in the flesh – wouldn’t you
have questions? She’s not trying to
deflect, or change the subject; she suddenly believes this man may hold the
right answers about God.
In
fact, she grasps this truth faster than Nicodemus. Where he, a teacher of Israel wise in the
ways of God, wasn’t able to let go of his religious parameters to follow Jesus,
this un-named woman, know known, becomes a perfect disciple. She runs back to the village, witnessing to
the story and testifying to the Messiah, inspiring others to go meet Jesus in
person.
It
all happens because of a conversation. This un-named woman becomes a witness
because she is known to Jesus, and to be known is to be loved, and to be loved
is to be known. Rather than that moment becoming the moment that is her shame,
that moment is the moment that makes everything possible. How many vulnerable moments do we risk in our
day to day lives? How often do we allow
ourselves to be known, truly known, and be truly loved?
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