DATE: March 23, 2014
SCRIPTURE: John 4:3–29; 39–42
©Rev. Alison J. Buttrick Patton
Seabury Center
Photina. That’s what the Greeks call this Samaritan woman. St. Photina. From the Greek word ‘phos’, which means “light.” As in phosphorescence. (The process by which energy is absorbed by a substance and gradually released in the form of light.) It’s what makes an object glow in the dark. Phosphorescence. It’s also what made Photina’s face glow. It wasn’t just the midday sun that beat down on her, or the physical labor of drawing and carrying water that made her brown skin shine and her cheeks flush. On this particular day, it was something more, a man who spoke to her, honored her with his attention, a teacher who extended a hand, looked her in eye and did not turn away.
Perhaps, her face had burned with shame – shame at being rejected by the other women in her hometown. Why else would she endure a midday walk to the well – when the sun scorched and silver heat waves shimmered – but because she’d grown weary of the sideways glances she got from the other women who gathered at dawn to collect water and exchange news. Even now, we look at her askance, this woman who had (count them!) five husbands; this woman who lived with someone who was not her husband. Tsk. What kind of woman is that.
Only: We don’t actually know. We don’t really have any idea how her life unfolded. The gospel writer doesn’t even give us her name, much less her biography. And in the rush to judgment, we may overlook an essential detail – that this woman was neither condemned nor dismissed by Jesus. There IS no finger-wagging here. No call to repent. In other scenes, on other days, we’ve heard Jesus say, “Go and sin no more.” But here, at the well, he says no such thing. Says nothing, in fact, to imply that this woman has transgressed. He only names her pain. “Your life has not unfolded as you’d hoped. It has not been settled or secure. It is run through with distress, made bitter by disappointment. You have lost so much, lost again and again and again.”
We don’t know the details, but this we might recall: that first century, Middle Eastern women relied on men – for economic stability, for children, for status. A widow was among the most vulnerable members of a community; she had lost her means of support. So Levitical law required that a dead man’s brother take in the brother’s widow and support her, even give her children. He was obligated to do this, but she did not really count as his wife. She would forever remain secondary in his household. (“The one you have now is not your husband…”) We do not know how her life unfolded. Perhaps those on whom she relied had not proved true. Perhaps lust or restlessness had lured them away. Perhaps it was Death who betrayed her, or Death’s faithful emissaries War and Disease. However it happened, this Samaritan woman found herself living on the very edges of her own community, ostracized and alone.
Until that day at the well. The day that a Jewish rabbi crossed boundaries geographic, religious and social to ask her for a drink of water. The day he tore down the wall, read with compassion the suffering etched on her face, gently named her parched places, and cast light on a wellspring of healing and hope. “Hear this,” he said. “I am the ‘I am.’ I can be trusted. Always.”
No wonder she glowed. To be offered such a gift. How many times had she gone to the well, exchanged vows of faithfulness – only to end up thirsty again. Sooner or later her joy was always sapped by disappointment. Now here stood one who told her that it could be different. That he could quench her thirst once and for all.
The thing is, he never should have been there. He was a Jew, after all. And Jews did not abide by Samaritans. They were religious adversaries, two peoples who shared an ethnic and religious heritage, but whose paths had split long ago. Like Capulets and Montagues, they despised one another. Jews worshiped in Jerusalem; Samaritans on Mt. Gerizim. Yet here he was, this Jewish rabbi, offering living water to a sworn enemy of his own people.
Photina was not the only one caught off guard by this gesture. Clearly, the disciples were shocked (master, what are you thinking??), though they held their tongues. And if you’ve been following along, you might be equally baffled. Just one chapter back, Jesus was exactly where you’d expect to find him, in Judea, conversing with a Jewish insider: the Pharisee Nicodemus, who had come to see Jesus in the dead of night. It seems Nicodemus wanted to scope him out, evaluate whether Jesus was the real deal before publicly throwing in his lot with the man who’d created such a buzz, turned water into wine and ransacked the temple. Nicodemus tried to pin him down, this Jesus-fellow, to clarify just what he meant about being ‘born of water and spirit.’ To see if he was ligit. But Jesus would not be pinned down. “The Spirit blows where it chooses.” He said. Turns out, it might even blow into Samaria; into the life of an unsuspecting Samaritan woman, not a temple regular but an untouchable other, an outsider who would become a light to the gospel.
Once Photina recovered from her surprise, realized that Jesus was someone special, a prophet even, she asked him that most pressing question – the one we’d all like to ask: “So then, who’s right? Us, or them? The Jews? Or the Samaritans? Catholic or Protestant? Israeli or Palestinian? North or South? Left or Right? Should we worship God in Jerusalem, or here on Mt. Gerizim?”
To which Jesus answered: Neither. Not in Jerusalem or in Samaria. But in Spirit and in Truth. The Spirit blows where it chooses; so it’s ‘how’ that matters, not ‘where;’ She is here AND there, wherever ‘I am,’ God’s gift, freely given: take, drink. Drink deeply, and never be thirsty again. Drink deeply, and sooth the parched places. Drink deeply, and wash away the pain of ‘not you,’ the pain of ‘not good enough,’ the bitterness of ‘stay away’ or ‘Shame on you’ or ‘Who do you think you are?’
If you know what it feels like to be dismissed, to be invisible, or to be blamed; if you’ve ever been demeaned by someone else’s stereotypes, or confined by someone else’s walls, then you can imagine how those words must have sounded to Photina, how she must have soaked them up, like a sponge absorbs water; like a solar cell absorbs light, until she could not contain her new-found joy, but abandoned her jars and raced back to town to share the news.
I suspect that’s what Jesus intended, all along. The gospel says that Jesus “had to” go through Samaria on his way back to Galilee. And maybe that was the most direct route, but it wasn’t the only one. He could have gone around enemy territory. Instead, he chose to walk through. Why? In the Gospel of John those two words, ‘had to’ often vibrate with theological import, as in, “God intended.” As in: Jesus ‘had to’ go to that well, to meet Photina, to light the spark in her, to show her, his disciples, those Samaritans and all of us that God’s Spirit blows where it will: Not just in the temple – or in the church – but on the outskirts, at the well; not just among friends and other acceptable folk, but among sworn enemies, outcasts and aliens, without regard for the lines we draw on maps or in board rooms. God’s spirit utterly disregards our attempts to label and limit. Like water, She flows, seeps and soaks, bubbles up, rises and rushes – across town lines and over national borders, delivering Living Water to every parched place.
THIS is the Good News that the Woman at the Well absorbed, the news she could not contain: in a world cracked apart by human attempts to narrow down the options, to keep things simple: in or out; here or there; like this, not that; us or them… there is One who ignores the rules; he will cross any line to find you and fill you up – with hope, with healing, with overflowing love.
That’s what made the Samaritan woman shine. The Gospel of John does not record her name. So I give thanks for those in the early Church who honored her, named her and declared her a saint. St. Photina. The one who radiated. Photina, who was drawing water when Jesus drew her out; Photina who raced back to town, drew the picture for others, then drew them into the conversation; Photina, who, having encountered the light of Christ in the eyes of Jesus, absorbed and reflected that light until no one in her village could doubt God’s transformative power. The lines of pain once etched across her brow had been washed away and she looked taller somehow. She had discarded her shame right along with those jars back at the well, left it behind in exchange for the promise that she was worthy of love.
So are you. So are you. Sisters and brothers in Christ: If you are not quite sure about that, if you’ve had your days; if your life feels run through with disappointment; if worry, grief or distress weigh you down – like so many clay jars you feel compelled to carry: then hear Photina’s invitation today: come to the well. Come to the well! Set down those jars and come. Drink deeply of that wellspring of hope and healing. Receive the gift of extravagant love. Let it run over your body and ease your pain; let it drench your spirit. Let this promise wash over you: That Christ can be trusted, to meet you, walk with you, sustain you along the way.
Once you know that, once you’ve felt the gift of God at work in your own life, you may just find that you, too, have a story to tell… You may just find yourself saying, right along with the good folks of Samaria: “We no longer believe because of what you said, for we have heard for ourselves and know that this one is truly the savior of the world.”
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Scripture Texts
John 4:5–29; 39–42 — Common English Bible translation
5 [Jesus] came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, which was near the land Jacob had given to his son Joseph. 6 Jacob’s well was there. Jesus was tired from his journey, so he sat down at the well. It was about noon. 7 A Samaritan woman came to the well to draw water. Jesus said to her, “Give me some water to drink.” 8 His disciples had gone into the city to buy him some food.
9 The Samaritan woman asked, “Why do you, a Jewish man, ask for something to drink from me, a Samaritan woman?” (Jews and Samaritans didn’t associate with each other.) 10 Jesus responded, “If you recognized God’s gift and who is saying to you, ‘Give me some water to drink,’ you would be asking him and he would give you living water.” 11 The woman said to him, “Sir, you don’t have a bucket and the well is deep. Where would you get this living water? 12 You aren’t greater than our father Jacob, are you? He gave this well to us, and he drank from it himself, as did his sons and his livestock.” 13 Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, 14 but whoever drinks from the water that I will give will never be thirsty again. The water that I give will become in those who drink it a spring of water that bubbles up into eternal life.” 15 The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I will never be thirsty and will never need to come here to draw water!” 16 Jesus said to her, “Go, get your husband, and come back here.” 17 The woman replied, “I don’t have a husband.” “You are right to say, ‘I don’t have a husband,'” Jesus answered. 18 “You’ve had five husbands, and the man you are with now isn’t your husband. You’ve spoken the truth.”
19 The woman said, “Sir, I see that you are a prophet. 20 Our ancestors worshipped on this mountain, but you and your people say that it is necessary to worship in Jerusalem.” 21 Jesus said to her, “Believe me, woman, the time is coming when you and your people will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. 22 You and your people worship what you don’t know; we worship what we know because salvation is from the Jews. 23 But the time is coming—and is here!—when true worshippers will worship in spirit and truth. The Father looks for those who worship him this way. 24 God is spirit, and it is necessary to worship God in spirit and truth.” 25 The woman said, “I know that the Messiah is coming, the one who is called the Christ. When he comes, he will teach everything to us.” 26 Jesus said to her, “I Am—the one who speaks with you.” 27 Just then, Jesus’ disciples arrived and were shocked that he was talking with a woman. But no one asked, “What do you want?” or “Why are you talking with her?” 28 The woman put down her water jar and went into the city. She said to the people, 29 “Come and see a man who has told me everything I’ve done! Could this man be the Christ?” …
39 Many Samaritans in that city believed in Jesus because of the woman’s word when she testified, “He told me everything I’ve ever done.” 40 So when the Samaritans came to Jesus, they asked him to stay with them, and he stayed there two days. 41 Many more believed because of his word, 42 and they said to the woman, “We no longer believe because of what you said, for we have heard for ourselves and know that this one is truly the savior of the world.”