The effort to find a middle way, a via media between two contrasting theological positions, may have begun with the Gospel of John. This gospel was written around 95 AD, approximately 65 years after the resurrection. It was written for a Christian community which was already separate from the Jewish community, and living very much in a Hellenistic context, probably in the city of Ephesus. The author of the Gospel, possibly a student of the apostle John, wrote a very sophisticated book, carefully laying out themes and arguments intended to present Jesus both as the man from heaven, and also as a real human being who died and rose again. The five conversations in the Gospel serve that purpose of showing Jesus to be both divine and human.

Last week’s conversation with Nicodemus, and today’s conversation with the Samaritan woman, are a matched pair. The first conversation was at night; the second was in the full noontime sun. Jesus talked first with a man, and then with a woman. The first person was a righteous Jew, the second was an outcast Samaritan. In the light of these contrasts, I want to reflect first on the Samaritan woman, and what this conversation probably meant to her. Then I will go on to the theme of living water, which leads to the question of what we can learn from this conversation.

It was a truly shocking thing for a first century Jewish man, to initiate a conversation with any woman outside of his family. It was viewed as an improper, and indeed an immoral act. It would have been merely a surprising thing for a Jewish man to initiate a conversation with a Samaritan. The people of Samaria were descendents of the Israelites who were left behind, when the Assyrian army conquered Israel and deported the upper class. They had intermarried with Gentiles, but preserved the religion of their ancestors based on the 5 books of Moses. They knew nothing of the books of history and prophecy written down by the exiles from Judah. In short, the Samaritans were practicing an earlier version of Judaism. Somewhat like Irish Catholics have despised Irish Protestants, and vice-versa, so the Samaritans despised the Jews, and vice-versa.

In giving such a prominent place to Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman, the Gospel writer was saying to his readers, you don’t have to be Jewish to come to Jesus. The message of salvation is for all people: Samaritans, Greeks, Syrians, even Romans -- whoever you are, even if you are a woman, Jesus will give you living water. Beyond that, the Gospel writer was saying that even if you are a recognized sinner, living with a person to whom you are not married, you are welcome, the message of salvation is for you also. We know the Samaritan woman was an outcast because she did not come to draw water from the well in the cool of the morning when the other women came. She was there to draw water when the well was deserted, at noon. Because of these details, I think the Gospel writer is telling us about a real woman, not a character he invented. I learned recently that the Eastern Orthodox Church gives her a name, Photini, which means “enlightened one”. They honor her as a saint on March 20th, and more importantly as an apostle, because she was the first to tell others that Jesus was Messiah. I wonder how many of us have had the experience, at some time in our lives, of feeling that people are looking at us with disapproval? It may be over something trivial: hairstyle, or clothing, or it may be while waiting for the policeman to turn off his flashing lights and ask for our drivers’ license . . . I vividly remember what it was like to wear a clergy shirt and collar in 1975, when so many people disapproved of the ordination of women, and I assure you, it was very uncomfortable. The feeling of being judged and found wanting, over time tends to eat into the soul. Gradually a person who suffers social ostracism comes to believe that she or he IS a bad person, not worthy of common courtesy or help.

What Jesus did in this conversation with the Samaritan woman, was to accept her as a person worthy of conversation on matters of great importance. Like the conversation with Nicodemus, this one began at the physical level. Jesus was tired from the journey, and was resting by the well while the disciples went to buy food. These two elements, that Jesus asked for a drink of water, and that he was tired, remind us that he was a human being. The rest of the conversation now shifted to theological issues. Jesus claimed that he could give Photini that “living water”, which was the prophets’ term for saving grace. Isaiah and Jeremiah, Joel and Zechariah all refer to God as a “fountain of living water”. The closing hymn we will sing at the 10:30 service reflects this image: “Come thou font of every blessing, tune my heart to sing thy grace, streams of mercy never ceasing, call for songs of loudest praise” (Hymn 686).

What interests me about living water, is that we must choose to drink it. The living water is available, and Jesus is prepared to give it to anyone who wants it: “those who drink of the water I will give them, will never be thirsty . . . it will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life”. So there is a choice for each of us, just as there was for the Samaritan woman. I think it is fair to say she was skeptical,and even perhaps suspicious: after all, Jesus had no bucket! It took her quite a while to realize Jesus was not talking about physical water. He had spoken first to Nicodemas about opening oneself to being born from above, which was more of a passive acceptance of spiritual change. Now, with the Samaritan woman, he makes it clear that each person must choose to take in this saving grace: we must want it to become the activating principle of our life.

What I love about this conversation, is that I can tell (and I hope you can) how Photini moved from skepticism to faith. First there was that little dialogue about her 5 husbands, and the man she was living with, and the fact that Jesus seemed to know all about her. Then there was discussion about the proper place to worship, either in Jerusalem, as the Jews did, or on Mt. Gerizim, which the Samaritans believed was commanded in the book of Deuteronomy (27:4). The worship under discussion was, of course, the offering of animal sacrifices, which Jesus now said, would be superceded by the true worship in spirit and in truth. Apparently she accepted that new idea, and went on to ask about the expected Messiah. Actually, the Samaritans did not share the Jewish hope for an anointed king; instead they hoped for a Prophet-like-Moses, a new teacher of the Law. Therefore her earlier statement, “I see that you are a prophet” is important.

The crucial moment in the conversation came when Jesus said, “I am the one”, in other words, I am Messiah, I am the prophet like Moses. The reason it is crucial is that in this statement, Jesus called himself God. Remember from Exodus, that when Moses asked the voice from the burning bush, “who are you”, God said, “say to the Israelites, I AM has sent you” (3:14). Now, when Photini said that Messiah is coming, Jesus said, “I Am”. In Greek it is e?? e?µ?. When Jesus said, “I am”, Photini was convinced. No one else but the Messiah would dare to apply the name of God to himself. Here, Jesus gave no further definition to the name, just, I who am speaking to you, am he. But later in the Gospel, Jesus used this phrase repeatedly: he said, I am the Bread of Life, I am the Light of the world, I am the good Shepherd, I am the resurrection and the life, I am the true vine.

What can we learn for our own lives and faith from this conversation? Three things. First, we have to sort out for ourselves, as the Samaritan woman did, who Jesus was, and is. This means reading the Gospels, talking with others about Jesus, and asking questions of Jesus directly. Some of us may have to go through this process several times in our lives, as a result of our own life experiences, or because the faith we found as a young adult no longer makes sense. Listening to the way someone else sorted this out can be helpful, but ultimately, we each have to do it for ourselves. Second, these two conversations, last week’s with Nicodemus and this week’s with Photini, make it abundantly clear that we must make a decision. We must choose to be open to being-born-from-above; we must decide to drink the living water that Jesus offers. It is a choice: we are free to refuse, to turn away. The reason it is a choice, is that love cannot be coerced. The Creator of the Universe, the Incarnate Word and the Holy Spirit, invite us into communion, into partnership with them.

And that fact leads to the third thing we can learn. Once we have made that choice and entered into communion, we have also joined the plan of salvation. Part of that plan is about our responsibility for the good earth which God has given us. On this weekend in California when we have been blessed with an abundance of rain, I want to share with you what I have learned from reading my Lenten book. In Mobilizing to Save Civilization, Lester Brown describes how the population of the earth has increased so much, that too many wells have been drilled, too many rivers have been dammed, and too much water is being drained from the underground water tables. That underground water is not any longer, being replaced by rain and snow, which is the reason lakes and rivers are going dry all over the world. As the available water declines, our ability to produce food diminishes, yet the population, and the cities, keep growing. In 7 of the last 8 years, world agriculture has produced less grain than we have consumed, which means we have relied on grain stored from previous years. It is up to us, to recognize that we are stewards of the earth, and we must address this problem socially, politically and spiritually. The plan of salvation is about more than the salvation of souls; that is why the Gospels place so much emphasis on healing. It is based on the old prophetic vision of a transformed earth, in which each family has land and food sufficient for their needs, enough to live in peace. The heavenly banquet has always reflected an earthly banquet, to which all are invited, and in which all are nourished.