I love to watch kids playing on the beach building sandcastles. Some children build it and tear down. Others put a lot of work into it, building towers and moats and even drawbridges. Some of the sand castle constructions that I have seen are works of art! And yet, they all have the same fate. When the tide comes in, they slowly, but surely, melt into the sea. We know that this will happen to sandcastles. But in our lesson, Jesus exposes some other things that we, as people, construct that are not lasting – and even may be harmful.
“Can I have a drink of water?” It’s a simple question. But with that little question, Jesus challenges some long-held – centuries old -- societal taboos. Jewish people did not speak with Samaritans and Rabbis did not talk with women. Although it seems odd to us, I mean, all he was doing was asking for a drink of water. But I’m told that even today, in the old city of Jerusalem, an orthodox rabbi will carry his prayer shawl in front of his face so that he does not see a woman on the way to the Western Wall – the wailing wall – of the old temple. But there is a problem with carrying a shawl in front of face: you can’t see! And so, apparently, these rabbis are continually running into things. But despite this problem - they do it anyway.
The Samaritan woman knew all of the taboos. She knew her place. She could have maintained the taboos by walking away or by ignoring this man, but instead, she got curious. She asked questions. And Jesus responded, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” Again, she was curious. How could he do this? He doesn’t even have a bucket. But again, Jesus offers: “Everyone who drinks of this water will never be thirsty again. Instead, it will become a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”
Carrying water is a hard and unending task. We need water to drink, to cook, to clean and for sustaining life itself. And for a woman in Jesus’ day, this was a daily task – carrying water from the well, back home. This the Samaritan woman could not refuse: “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to dray water.”
The Samaritan woman did not understand what Jesus was offering. He has been speaking in images – on another level – much as he did in the chapter right before this when, Nicodemus, a Pharisee, came to see him. But there are differences between these two stories. Nicodemus came at night. Jesus initiates the conversation and is talking with Samaritan woman at noon under the bright hot sun. Nicodemus was expecting answers and he got riddles. The Samaritan woman was expecting rejection and she received an encounter with Jesus that changed her life.
I think it was because she told the truth. When Jesus asked her to call her husband and return, she flatly said, “I have no husband.” Jesus seems amazed that she would tell the truth. Much has been made of the Samaritan woman’s back story. But Jesus doesn’t condemn her or even say, “Go and sin no more.” It may be that her husbands died or she was barren and had been divorced. But Jesus doesn’t dwell on it and neither does she. Instead, freed from that social stigma, the Samaritan woman begins asking the theological questions of the day, questions that had separated Samaritans and Jews. But again, Jesus sweeps away the divisions between God-loving people that humans had created. And instead, when she proclaims her faith in the coming of the Messiah, Jesus tells her who he is saying, “I AM.” This is the ancient name that God spoke to Moses.
Jesus, in the Gospel of John, uses the name “I AM” to reveal who he is. Often, Jesus speaks metaphorically: I AM the bread of life; I AM the Good Shepherd, I am the Water of Life. Each of these “I AM” statements reveal a bit about who he is. But when speaking with the Samaritan woman, Jesus is more direct. Perhaps because she spoke plainly and truthfully to him, Jesus responded with “I AM” – and then, just to be clear, he said, “The one who is speaking to you.”
At this moment two things happen. The disciples come back and the woman leaves her big stone water jar behind, the jar that carries the water that she needs every day for cooking and cleaning and drinking and instead, runs off to share this good news, saying, “Come and See.”
“Come and See.” This is the same invitation that Jesus gives to his disciples. It’s a simple invitation, right? Come and see for yourself the one who has told me everything that I have ever done – he can’t be the Messiah, can he? The Samaritan woman doesn’t have all the answers. In fact, her question is honest – she is still wondering, still trying to figure out who Jesus is: this can’t be true, can it? And yet… it is also holds out a possibility, an invitation, that is hard to resist. Come and see for yourself.
Come and see. It is a good invitation. It’s not hard to say. It’s not “preachy.” It doesn’t claim any superiority. Instead, it invites curiosity.
It makes me curious. What are the obstacles that get in our way of saying that very thing: “Come and See” to people that we meet or people that we know are not a part of a church community.
What are the things that we need to set down, like the woman set down her waterjar, in order to share the good news? What are the sand castles – that look insurmountable – that are getting gin our way?
Is it because we are Minnesotan and Lutheran?
Is it because we don’t want to be mistaken for groups that “proselytize”?
Is it because we don’t know how? Or are afraid that someone would say no?
A pastor friend shared a story of a church youth group that was holding a car wash. He started to talk with them, asking about where they went to school and what they thought of the local football team. They were engaged in good friendly banter. But then he asked, “What is the car wash for?” When they told him it was for a mission trip with their church, he asked them to tell them about their church. They answered, “Why don’t you talk to the pastor.”
Friends, that sounds like another sandcastle to me. You don’t have to be ordained to share about your church. All you have to be able to say is, “Come and See.” For example, this Wednesday we are hosting the Midweek Lenten soup supper. How hard would it be to say to your neighbor or a friend or a person who might have gone to a church a while ago but isn’t going anymore: “Hey, I’m going to my church’s Lenten soup supper and worship afterwards. Want to come with me?” What’s the worst thing that could happen? They say no? What if they ask, “what happens at worship?” You could say: We sing some songs, hear a message and pray and you can even light a candle if you want to.
There is a loneliness epidemic in our country. And you have all it takes to make a difference. Not for the world. But for one person. One family. That’s how God’s love spreads: One person inviting another. And, even better, offering to go with them – or have a plan to meet them at the door. It is hard for me – and maybe you – to imagine, but the hardest steps for someone coming to church is to get through the doorway. There’s nothing wrong with the doorway. But it takes courage to enter a new space.
Because if you dare to do this, to take Jesus’ call to share the Good News seriously, you could be blessing another person in ways you cannot even imagine.
A friend shared this story: Deb had a powerful business job. But then her husband got a promotion, they moved to a bigger house, had a baby who had some complications, and she quit her job to stay home with the child. It all happened pretty fast. This active, engaged woman suddenly found herself in a new suburb with no connections and with a very needy baby. And, as much as she loved her baby and her husband, she was lonely. As she tells her story, she wouldn’t have admitted that she was lonely. After all, she had a nice house, a faithful husband and a beautiful baby. What more could one want? She felt guilty for feeling like there was something else that she needed.
Her nextdoor neighbor had noticed when Deb was pregnant, and even that Deb’s car was now in the driveway instead of zipping out of the driveway at 6AM every morning like it had in the past. And so… when they happened to go to the mailbox at the same time, she asked Deb… “You wouldn’t want to come with me to a Mom’s group at my church would you? It’s really casual – jeans and sweatshirts, talk about being moms, eat chocolate and drink coffee and do a little Bible study. You wouldn’t want to come with me, would you? Deb said it was all she could do to keep from shouting, YES.
That little Bible study with chocolate became the entrance point for Deb – a person who had grown up in the church but then moved away from it – to re-engage with Jesus. She admitted later that she came for the chocolate and the companionship of other mothers but she ended up falling in love with Jesus. Like the Samaritan people, all she needed was an invitation, an opportunity to hear for herself, to spend some time in the Word with Jesus. She later became a pastor. But her journey began by a simple invitation to come and see – and eat some chocolates.
Brothers and sisters, siblings in Christ, let us not get stuck in the sand houses of our perfectly reasonable objections that we carry with us. Instead, let’s set those down and instead, take a risk to be curious, to seek out a stranger, a neighbor, a friend and say, “Come and See.” They will be glad that you did. And so will Jesus. Amen.