The Woman at the Well

This past Sunday was the Third Sunday in Lent. The traditional story for this Sunday is John 4, the story of the Samaritan woman at the well. If I were to take a survey of my pastor friends, this story would rate very high on their list of Great Stories of the Bible. It's powerful, artfully written, and (perhaps most lf all) preachable! I'll make a confession: it doesn't do much for me.

I'll readily admit that it's a great story and an excellent example of Jesus transforming the lives of an entire community of outsiders. Still, it doesn't do it for me. I'm much more drawn to the story of Nicodemus, in the preceding chapter. The two encounters, Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman, are placed back-to-back for a reason; they're meant to be examined together.

There are similarities and start contrasts between the two encounters. The most obvious being their settings. Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night, in secret, in private, under the cover of darkness. Jesus himself comes to the Samaritan woman in the bright light of day, in public, for all to see. John's gospel is filled with images of light and dark, day and night, good and evil.

Despite the differences in setting, the conversations they have with Jesus are very similar. In typically Johannine fashion, they take place on two levels. When Jesus speak about being born again (in chapter 3) or about living water (in chapter 4), he is taken literally when he is speaking metaphorically. It takes some time in conversation before the different meanings start to become clear (something we should note, the role of Holy Conversation).

The stories end quite differently. The Samaritan woman rushes away to tell her neighbors, who come themselves to see and hear Jesus. Nicodemus goes away unsatisfied, much like the rich young man who Jesus instructs to give away everything. Maybe I'm drawn more to Nicodemus because I see him more often when I look around (or when I look in the mirror). Perhaps each of us comes to Jesus by night, to ask what's really required of us. Like Nicodemus, most of us go away unhappy.

As for the woman at the well, hers is a simpler story. She has an encounter with the Living Water and is transformed. She doesn't understand it all, but she understands enough. She gets it enough to tell her neighbors, and to ask the daring question, "Could this man be the Christ?" Each of us may encounter Jesus at our own wells. If we can't summon the nerve to ask that same question, we may never recognize him. This woman did and her faith transformed her entire community. It's a good story. A great story. Ultimately, they're both great stories.

They're both great because the story of Nicodemus doesn't end here. He comes back at the very end of John's gospel, after Jesus is crucified, to claim his body along with Joseph of Arimathea. The two were both members of the Jewish leadership who were secret followers of Jesus. They dared not claim him publicly for fear of their positions (and possibly their lives). Still, when most believed the story of Jesus to be over, they step out in a very public way, claim his body and see it safely laid to rest in Joseph's tomb.

Much of religious life, including Christian life, is guided by self interest. We ask, "Master, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" which is clearly an expression of our own self-interest. Some are never able to see past this, exulting in their own salvation (many even triumph in their neighbor's fall, so secure are they in their own victory). While our salvation may be personal, it is never private. It is never to be viewed outside the context of community (Christian and otherwise). This vain triumphalism ultimately betrays the Gospel.

This is why the actions of Nicodemus and Joseph stand out. They had nothing to gain, and everything to lose, by standing up to be counted among Jesus' followers after his death. Believing (rightly|) the Master to be dead, their actions have no self-serving purpose. This is what John Wesley called Christian Perfection (by which he meant Perfection in Love), a love that thinks only of the other, with no regard to the self. Jesus was dead. He needed to be buried. These two men--who had worked so hard to hide their discipleship while Jesus was alive--now set all secrecy aside to perform this one service of Love after his death.

Many shake their heads at Nicodemus and the other "secret disciples." I do not, for when the time came, he stoop up to be counted. Ultimately, his faith transcended Jesus' death and he became a true Servant of the Master.

Go now, do the same...