The gospel reading Sunday was John 4:1-42, the story of the Samaritan woman at the well. Turns out, this is a story that I needed to hear again. Earlier in the week women had spent International Women’s Day torn between how far we’d come and how far we have left to go. I think, perhaps, that I needed a reminder that, despite outward and outlandish assumptions about a woman, she may be smart and confident enough to hold her own in a conversation with a man, and she can emerge from that encounter with experience and energy to spark meaningful change. I am sure that many homilies and sermons Sunday focused on Jesus in this story, his willingness to speak to an “enemy” of the Jewish people, a woman, no less, and one characterized as immoral, shameless, and stuck within her own culture. But I was thinking about the Samaritan woman herself and what it is that makes her striking within this story. First, this is Jesus’ longest theological conversation recorded in the gospels, and he does not have it with a disciple, a religious authority of his day or even his mother, Mary. Instead, he speaks at length to someone whose name is not mentioned in scripture. She is portrayed, instead, as a woman and a Samaritan, a member of a group that Jews went out of their way to avoid or ignore. Remember Jesus’ story of the good Samaritan? Readers through the ages have assumed that this Samaritan woman was immoral, dishonest, and rightfully scorned by her neighbors. The “evidence” cited by many readers from the story itself is far from conclusive. Scripture says that she had been married multiple times and was living with a man who was not her husband. The text implies that she was so ashamed that she dared not visit the village well during its busiest times – early morning and late afternoon hours – to avoid her more righteous neighbors. That last detail makes me smile. As a modern biblical scholar has observed, “I should hate to have my morals impugned because I occasionally go to the grocery store late in the evening.” So, Jesus encounters her at the deserted well in the middle of the day and asks her for a drink. As they talk back and forth, her attitude toward Jesus shifts. This change is apparent in the ways she addresses him. At first, she calls him a “Jew.” Then she addresses him more respectfully, calling him “Sir.” As their conversation unfolds, she calls him “a prophet” and shares her own belief that the “messiah” is coming and will answer her religious questions once and for all. And then, Jesus, who has deftly managed most of the time to avoid answering the “who are you” question, reveals himself to her. “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.” Jesus makes this revelation not to “the emperor or the chief priest or even one of his disciples,” another interpreter writes. “He chose a simple, marginal woman, who is not ever named in her own story.” But I am getting ahead of myself. As the story unfolds, Jesus asks the woman to fetch her husband, and she remarks that she does not have one. He responds, “You have had five husbands and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true.” Often her self-revelation is interpreted as evidence of her immorality, supported by claims that Jews only allowed three marriages per person or challenged by scholars who suggest that women may have married more than once just to eat and keep a roof over their heads. My point, though, is that she responds to Jesus honestly, without explanations or excuses, and that Jesus doesn’t judge or condemn her. Unlike too many who read this story, he moves on, to get to the point or heart of their conversation – how should one worship. By now, the woman has established that she is knowledgeable about worship – whether it’s Jews or Samaritans taking part. At one time, the two groups were joined by their faith but over time they have drifted apart and disagree on where one should worship. She lays out their differences to Jesus. “Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is Jerusalem.” Since the fourth century, some readers have recognized her intelligence and knowledge of religion. Some, more recently, have remarked that the Samaritans seem to have educated women on spiritual matters. For his part, Jesus is not surprised or threatened by her intelligence. He goes on to make his central point – that soon it won’t matter where one worships as much as who and how one worships. He encloses his central point in an inclusio, a rhetorical device where a central thought is emphasized by enclosing it within verbal bookends: “True worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth . . . God is spirit . . . Those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.” The conversation between Jesus and the Samaritan woman is so convincing to her that, when the disciples come on the scene and interrupt them, she heads home to share her experience with her neighbors. They don’t seem at all skeptical of what she has to say, as they might have been if she was as immoral and suspect as some readers portray her. They don’t reject her experience of Jesus outright. Instead, her testimony spurs others to go and see him for themselves. “Now, so what?” I can hear my editor saying in my ear. Here’s what: Women, seeking inspiring examples (and there are many in history and modern times) might find one in this ancient story that made its way into what is often seen as a patriarchal book. A suspect stranger, who might seem immoral (but isn’t convicted by any of the facts of her story) speaks with Jesus in what may be his longest theological discussion. One she is prepared for because of her education, and one where she is attentive enough to his responses to revise the way she addresses and sees him. She is confident, tells the truth and witnesses Jesus’ self-revelation. Finally, she rushes home to share her experience with others. It seems to me that in a world where men often overlook and underestimate women, and where women too often accept such treatment, God has calls us for centuries to prepare for more meaningful conversations, to hold our own in them, and to share our experience with those who would listen. *This entry is adapted from my book, Sacred Strangers: What the Bible's Outsiders Can Teach Christians. Quoted here are Bonnie Thurston and Joyce Hollyday, respectively.
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