Drinking From The Same Cup
Sermon
Tears Of Sadness, Tears Of Gladness
Gospel Sermons For Lent/Easter
Hate-filled prejudice is, unfortunately, alive and well in our world today. Recall, for example, the gruesome story about James Byrd from Jasper, Texas. Late one night Byrd, an African American, was hitchhiking along the road when three white men in a pick-up truck stopped to give him a ride. They drove him to the woods outside of town where they beat him, chained him by the ankles, and then dragged him behind their truck for three miles until his head and right arm were torn off by the jagged edge of a roadside culvert. One of the three men, John William King, a self-proclaimed white supremacist who has racist tattoos covering his body, showed no remorse when sentenced to die for his crime. In fact, he and his accomplices even invoked the name of God in defending their actions.
Or consider another hate crime, this one involving a young man named Matthew Shepard. Shepard, you may recall, was a homosexual college student, who because he was gay was pistol-whipped, robbed, tied to a fence in rural Wyoming, and left out in the cold to die. At his funeral, which was held in the family's Episcopal church, Shepard was praised as a "gentle spirit." But just outside the church, protesters, many of them calling themselves Christians, were carrying signs and banners with messages that were anything but gentle. "God hates fags," said one banner. "No tears for queers," said another. "Fag Matt in Hell" said another. Ironically, there was another sign outside the church the day of Shepard's funeral, the message on the church's signboard, which quoted the words of Jesus, "Love thy neighbor." Even those who object to homosexual behavior would find it hard to support any anti-gay protest that was so cold and callous, and so contrary to the words of Jesus, "Love thy neighbor."
Speaking of Jesus, we meet him in today's Gospel reading sitting by a well in Samaria. At first glance the story about Jesus and the woman at the well appears to be a simple story about faith. Here is this woman who comes to draw water from the well. Jesus is sitting there. He's thirsty from his travels and the heat of the day; he asks for a drink. They get to talking. He tells her about a special spiritual sustenance called "living water." They speak about worship. She asks about the Messiah; he replies, "I am he." Then she finds her friends, invites them to meet Jesus, and wonders out loud, "He can't be the Messiah, can he?" (John 4:29). Later many of those friends believe because of the woman's testimony. They say, "We know that this is truly the Savior of the world" (John 4:42). At first glance, this seems to be just a simple story about faith. And, of course, at one level it is.
But when we look more closely, we find that the story also has a deeper, more profound dimension as well. Please notice several particular details of the story. First of all, notice that the person with whom Jesus spoke was a woman. Even the disciples weren't sure why he would speak to a woman, although, as John tells us, they were afraid to ask, "Why are you speaking with her?" (John 4:27). Rabbis, it seems, did their best to avoid speaking to women in public.1 Didn't this rabbi named Jesus know any better?
Secondly, notice that this woman was not just any woman, she was a Samaritan. For the Jews, the Samaritans weren't quite as "foreign" as the Gentiles were. Then again, they weren't "full-fledged members of the household of Israel" either.2 They were religious and cultural outsiders whom Jews regarded with a fair measure of suspicion and distrust. This distrust was so widespread that the woman herself is startled by Jesus' initiative. She says to him, "How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?" (John 4:9).
Thirdly, notice the preface to the story. In the opening verses of the chapter, John wants us to know that Jesus "had to go through Samaria" (John 4:4). As Professor Fred Craddock observes:
To say that Jesus "had to pass through Samaria" is clearly not a statement about historical or geographical necessity. Jesus' obligation to pass through Samaria is a theological statement, consistent with "for God so loved the world."3
In other words, Jesus' mission, as John understood it, was not just "to the lost sheep of the house of Israel" (see Matthew 10:6), but to the whole world, even to cultural and social outsiders like the people of Samaria.
Fourthly, notice the time of day that the woman came to the well. Typically, people went to the well in the morning or in the evening to avoid the heat of the noon time sun. Why, then, did this woman go at noon? Maybe because she was trying to avoid something worse than the noontime heat. Maybe she wanted to avoid the burning glances of those from the town who had shunned her, because she had had five previous husbands and the man with whom she was now living was not her husband.4 Such a lifestyle would provide grist for the gossip mill in her day as well as our own. So she went to the well at noon to avoid the townspeople who were scandalized by her lifestyle.
Do you get the sense that there is more going on in this story than at first meets the eye? For here at the well we meet this Samaritan woman and this Jewish rabbi as different from each other as James Byrd was from his racist killer, as different as Matthew Shepard was from those anti-gay protesters. Everything we know about human relations suggests that these two at the well will ignore each other at best, or even worse, taunt or demean one another. How incredibly surprising, therefore, when Jesus breaks down all the barriers of race and gender and moral superiority by making a simple request: "Give me a drink," says Jesus. But the woman protests:
You want me to give a drink to you? Do you know what you're asking? Don't you realize that for years your people and mine have drunk from different water fountains, eaten in separate restaurants, sat at different ends of the bus? How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria? We're not supposed to drink from the same cup, you know. It's against the rules. It goes against the grain of our society. Don't you know what you're asking?
But, of course, he did know what he was asking. He knew precisely what he was doing. By reaching out to this foreign woman of questionable morality, this outsider in her own world, Jesus was demonstrating the amazing grace of God. He did that often in his ministry. By "eating [and drinking] with outcasts, forgiving sinners, and calling all to repent and believe the gospel,"5 Jesus earned the wrath of those who wanted to preserve the status quo. But by breaking down the barriers of hatred and prejudice, he shows us just how broad and deep and profound is the unconditional love of God.
Sadly, for some 2,000 years now, the Church — the Church which bears his name, the name of Christ-ian — has often fallen short of his example.
____________
1. Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According To John in the Anchor Bible Series (Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1966), p. 173.
2. See "Samaritans" in The Interpreter's Dictionary Of The Bible (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1962), Volume 4, p. 191.
3.
4. See Brown, p. 171, which suggests that "Jews were allowed only three marriages. If the same standard was applied among the Samaritans, then the woman's life had been markedly immoral."
5. From "A Brief Statement of Faith" in The Book Of Confessions (Louisville: Published by the Office of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church USA, 1994), 10.16-18.
Or consider another hate crime, this one involving a young man named Matthew Shepard. Shepard, you may recall, was a homosexual college student, who because he was gay was pistol-whipped, robbed, tied to a fence in rural Wyoming, and left out in the cold to die. At his funeral, which was held in the family's Episcopal church, Shepard was praised as a "gentle spirit." But just outside the church, protesters, many of them calling themselves Christians, were carrying signs and banners with messages that were anything but gentle. "God hates fags," said one banner. "No tears for queers," said another. "Fag Matt in Hell" said another. Ironically, there was another sign outside the church the day of Shepard's funeral, the message on the church's signboard, which quoted the words of Jesus, "Love thy neighbor." Even those who object to homosexual behavior would find it hard to support any anti-gay protest that was so cold and callous, and so contrary to the words of Jesus, "Love thy neighbor."
Speaking of Jesus, we meet him in today's Gospel reading sitting by a well in Samaria. At first glance the story about Jesus and the woman at the well appears to be a simple story about faith. Here is this woman who comes to draw water from the well. Jesus is sitting there. He's thirsty from his travels and the heat of the day; he asks for a drink. They get to talking. He tells her about a special spiritual sustenance called "living water." They speak about worship. She asks about the Messiah; he replies, "I am he." Then she finds her friends, invites them to meet Jesus, and wonders out loud, "He can't be the Messiah, can he?" (John 4:29). Later many of those friends believe because of the woman's testimony. They say, "We know that this is truly the Savior of the world" (John 4:42). At first glance, this seems to be just a simple story about faith. And, of course, at one level it is.
But when we look more closely, we find that the story also has a deeper, more profound dimension as well. Please notice several particular details of the story. First of all, notice that the person with whom Jesus spoke was a woman. Even the disciples weren't sure why he would speak to a woman, although, as John tells us, they were afraid to ask, "Why are you speaking with her?" (John 4:27). Rabbis, it seems, did their best to avoid speaking to women in public.1 Didn't this rabbi named Jesus know any better?
Secondly, notice that this woman was not just any woman, she was a Samaritan. For the Jews, the Samaritans weren't quite as "foreign" as the Gentiles were. Then again, they weren't "full-fledged members of the household of Israel" either.2 They were religious and cultural outsiders whom Jews regarded with a fair measure of suspicion and distrust. This distrust was so widespread that the woman herself is startled by Jesus' initiative. She says to him, "How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?" (John 4:9).
Thirdly, notice the preface to the story. In the opening verses of the chapter, John wants us to know that Jesus "had to go through Samaria" (John 4:4). As Professor Fred Craddock observes:
To say that Jesus "had to pass through Samaria" is clearly not a statement about historical or geographical necessity. Jesus' obligation to pass through Samaria is a theological statement, consistent with "for God so loved the world."3
In other words, Jesus' mission, as John understood it, was not just "to the lost sheep of the house of Israel" (see Matthew 10:6), but to the whole world, even to cultural and social outsiders like the people of Samaria.
Fourthly, notice the time of day that the woman came to the well. Typically, people went to the well in the morning or in the evening to avoid the heat of the noon time sun. Why, then, did this woman go at noon? Maybe because she was trying to avoid something worse than the noontime heat. Maybe she wanted to avoid the burning glances of those from the town who had shunned her, because she had had five previous husbands and the man with whom she was now living was not her husband.4 Such a lifestyle would provide grist for the gossip mill in her day as well as our own. So she went to the well at noon to avoid the townspeople who were scandalized by her lifestyle.
Do you get the sense that there is more going on in this story than at first meets the eye? For here at the well we meet this Samaritan woman and this Jewish rabbi as different from each other as James Byrd was from his racist killer, as different as Matthew Shepard was from those anti-gay protesters. Everything we know about human relations suggests that these two at the well will ignore each other at best, or even worse, taunt or demean one another. How incredibly surprising, therefore, when Jesus breaks down all the barriers of race and gender and moral superiority by making a simple request: "Give me a drink," says Jesus. But the woman protests:
You want me to give a drink to you? Do you know what you're asking? Don't you realize that for years your people and mine have drunk from different water fountains, eaten in separate restaurants, sat at different ends of the bus? How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria? We're not supposed to drink from the same cup, you know. It's against the rules. It goes against the grain of our society. Don't you know what you're asking?
But, of course, he did know what he was asking. He knew precisely what he was doing. By reaching out to this foreign woman of questionable morality, this outsider in her own world, Jesus was demonstrating the amazing grace of God. He did that often in his ministry. By "eating [and drinking] with outcasts, forgiving sinners, and calling all to repent and believe the gospel,"5 Jesus earned the wrath of those who wanted to preserve the status quo. But by breaking down the barriers of hatred and prejudice, he shows us just how broad and deep and profound is the unconditional love of God.
Sadly, for some 2,000 years now, the Church — the Church which bears his name, the name of Christ-ian — has often fallen short of his example.
____________
1. Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According To John in the Anchor Bible Series (Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1966), p. 173.
2. See "Samaritans" in The Interpreter's Dictionary Of The Bible (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1962), Volume 4, p. 191.
3.
4. See Brown, p. 171, which suggests that "Jews were allowed only three marriages. If the same standard was applied among the Samaritans, then the woman's life had been markedly immoral."
5. From "A Brief Statement of Faith" in The Book Of Confessions (Louisville: Published by the Office of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church USA, 1994), 10.16-18.
