John 4:1-42
Lent 3
March 8, 2026
William G. Carter
Read the scripture text here.
Well, that was embarrassing! A
number of people in that Samaritan town began believing in Jesus – and it had
nothing to do with her. She told them about him. They went to check him out for
themselves – and then they dismissed her. They weren’t even nice about it.
Know what they said? “It’s not because of your ‘la-la-la-la-la’ that we believe.” That’s the word in the original text. “La-la-la-la-la.” They heard what she said and treated it as chatter. They dismissed her. And now, that anonymous woman remains anonymous. It was one more embarrassing moment in what might have been an embarrassing life.
We don’t know much about her, this woman at the well. We are not told her name. We are not told her name. What we are told is that she went to the village well when nobody else was there. Where are the other woman of the village? Well, they would have come first thing in the morning. Or they would have come as the hot sun was setting. That would be a time to socialize, to check in with one another, to share the latest news of what was going on in the small town of Sychar.
But she doesn’t come to the well with the others. She comes by herself. Is she excluded? Or does she exclude herself? We don’t know. That’s one of those little details that folks like us might pass over – but those in her village would understand all too well. She comes to the well at noon. All by herself. No one comes with her. No one will be seen with her.
Maybe you remember what that’s like. No friends. No acquaintances. No nobody, just you, alone. All by yourself. The last kid on the playground to be picked for kickball. The one who grew too quickly or didn’t grow quickly enough. The one who is shut out or abandoned. Like the little kid from my house – “Why are you moping around?” She said, “I’m not one of the popular kids.” But you are only in second grade! “Doesn’t matter.”
So, this woman comes to the well alone. In the middle of the day. We can’t tell if she is rejected, ignored, or chooses to go alone. And Jesus is sitting nearby. He is also by himself. The disciples had gone to find some food. It may take a while; they are Jews in the middle of Samaria.
It’s a distinction not lost on the woman. Jesus says, “Give me a drink.” She says, “Why is a Jew like you asking a Samaritan like me for a drink? Why are you saying anything at all?” Jews and Samaritans didn’t talk to one another. Not only are there religious differences, racial differences, there are also gender distinctions. Jews didn’t talk to Samaritans; men didn’t talk to women. Not in public. Not out in the middle of the day, in the center of town. Yet Jesus speaks to her.
He mentions “living water.”
She says, “Where is your bucket?
You don’t have a bucket.”
He says, “Everybody who draws from
this well will get thirsty again.”
She says, “I don’t want to keep getting thirsty. I don’t want to keep returning to the well.”
Then he says, “Go, get your husband.” This goes right to the heart. At least, to the broken heart. She’s been married five times, each marriage concluding in one form of pain or another. Now, she’s with number six. I think we can guess why she goes to the well alone. Nobody wants to be seen by her - except Jesus. And he knows this. How could he know this? Two reasons. First, it’s high noon and she comes to the public well by herself. Second, this is the Gospel of John, and in the Gospel of John, Jesus knows everything.
Up in Galilee, he could see Nathanael under a fig tree before Nathanael could see him. Over in Cana, he could see large stone jars that could hold new wine for a wedding. Down in Jerusalem, he could see how the Temple of God has become corrupt, so he chased away the “loan sharks.”[1] The storyteller says, “He knew what was in them.” Then, as we heard last week, Nicodemus appears from the shadows to say, “How do you do what you do?” Jesus could see his misunderstanding, and said, “You are a Bible teacher, and you don’t know?” Of course not. Only Jesus knows – and he knows everything.
He knows this woman comes along to the well because she has to. The neighbors won’t give her any other options. She won’t give herself any other options. Her whole life has been one of embarrassment. That’s why she comes at noon. Jesus knows this.
He also knows she has been married five and a half times. And he says it, says it out loud. He is a stranger to her, yet he knows. He knows everything. What everybody else in that village knew, this Jewish stranger also knows. There was no place to hide. Not at high noon in the center of the town.
Ever been exposed in public? It is a disorienting experience. To know that everybody else knows. You can’t hide. You can’t even lurk in the shadows. At least Nicodemus, the man we met last week, could return to the shadows. Not the woman at the well.
Imagine the family whose teenager is arrested for selling meth and it ends up on the front page. Or the investment advisor who is revealed publicly for making shady deals. Or the politician whose secret love nest is announced? There is nowhere to hide anymore. They can hide, they can distract, they could say, “Look over there!” But when the truth is known, it’s out there for everybody to see. And that’s embarrassing.
There’s one thing Jesus does, according to the Gospel of John: he tells the truth. He reveals the truth about God and the truth about us. Truth is truth, even there are some who say, “There’s no such thing as truth.” We know that’s a scam. It’s one more evasion of what nobody want others to find out.
Here is how John Calvin, the great reformer, begins his four-volume explanation of the Christian Gospel: “Our wisdom, in so far as it ought to be deemed true and solid Wisdom, consist almost entirely of two parts: the knowledge of God and (the knowledge) of ourselves.”[2] And they are connected. Those are the first words on the first page. If you truly know yourself, you know that your life comes from God – and that your life has moved away from God. And if you know this, you recognize your need for God. This is exactly the plot of this chapter four in the Gospel of John.
It doesn’t happen without an argument. This saucy woman, accustomed to making her way on her own, tries to pick a fight with Jesus. “You Jews believe you can only worship in Jerusalem, but we Samaritans have our own mountain where we worship.” Jesus replies, “Lady, it’s time to worship God, not here, not there – but through the Spirit of God who can find us anywhere. God is Spirit, not confined to a location. We must worship God in Spirit, and worship God as Spirit.”
Not only that, says Jesus, “We must worship God in truth, in the truth about ourselves, in the truth about our need, in the truth about all our embarrassments.” From what we can tell, this seems to blow her spiritual circuits. All she can say is, “I know Messiah is coming.” Lay down the defenses. Tear down the wall. Turn off the sirens, and all their distractions. Get right to it: “Messiah is coming.”
Then, in Hebrew speech, Jesus says, “I am.” Yahweh. Right there, far from Jerusalem, beside the village well, to a woman with a tangled past and a broken heart. “I am.” With this, she runs off. She has to tell people about him. And did you notice from the story? She leaves behind the water jar. She doesn’t need it. She can come back for it later. She must return to the community that has shunned her and tell them about this One who knows her as clearly as she knows herself. “Come see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?”
As we heard, the twelve disciples show up to say, “We’ve finally got some food. Eat, master, eat.” He says, “I have a banquet that you can’t see.” And true to John’s sense of irony, they whisper, “Did somebody bring him food?”
And as we heard, the small-town community is divided. Some take the woman at her word, invited Jesus to spend a couple of days with them, and then they begin to trust in Jesus for themselves. Yet true to their own unfinished faith, they dismiss the woman’s testimony, saying as we began, “We don’t need your la-la-la-la-la.” They have a habit of dismissing and disrespecting her. It may take a while for that to change.
Yet something has changed. Not completely, but the transformation has begun. In her conversation with Jesus, her understanding grew. Remember what she said?
“How
is it that you, a Jew?”
“Are
You greater than our father Joseph?”
“I
perceive you are a prophet.”
“I know that Messiah is coming.”
Step by step, climbing the ladder of comprehension. Her faith is unfinished, as it is for any of us, but it is growing. Faith is getting clearer, bigger, more expansive, more portable, more personal, more universal. For she has met the One who knows her, the One who tells her the truth that she already knows about herself.
And as he comes with that truth, he also comes with grace. Cleansing, forgiving, transforming grace. Always grace, always truth. Truth and grace. That is the gospel of Jesus Christ in three words: grace and truth.
I’ll never forget the man who told me how embarrassed he was. There was a major failure in his life, and it was published in the newspaper. He said to himself, “It’s been coming for a while, but now everybody knows. I’m so ashamed. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I can show myself in public for a while. Maybe I’ll just hide and stay out of sight.”
While he considered this, there was a knock at his door. Two people from his church stood there. “Can we come in?” They entered, closed the door. One said, “We won’t stay long. Wanted you to know we saw the piece in the news. Also wanted you to know we have been through the same kind of embarrassment.” He looked at them and couldn’t believe it. They were both so admired, so respected, so put together.
And the second one said, “We’ve been through what you are going through. And you are not alone. In fact, we are going to see you through this tough season as we have gotten through it.”
As he told me the story, he said, “When the truth about me was published, I believed I was stuck forever in my shame. But they came alongside, walked with me, pointed me toward God’s enlarging presence in my life. That is when I first understood what grace is all about.” Grace and truth, truth and grace. It’s always grace and truth.
She said, “Come and see a man who
told me everything about myself. He cannot be the Messiah, can he?” He could be,
but you will have to work it out yourself. So go and listen to what she has to
say. On your way, you may pass the bucket she left behind.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment