Gospel of John

International Women's Day at the Well

John 4:5-30, 39-42

So he came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon.

A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” (His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.) The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, “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.” The woman said to him, “Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?” Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.”

Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come back.” The woman answered him, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband’; for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!” The woman said to him, “Sir, I see that you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem.” Jesus said to her, “Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.” The woman said to him, “I know that Messiah is coming” (who is called Christ). “When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us.” Jesus said to her, “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.”

Just then his disciples came. They were astonished that he was speaking with a woman, but no one said, “What do you want?” or, “Why are you speaking with her?” Then the woman left her water jar and went back to the city. She said to the people, “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?” They left the city and were on their way to him.

Many Samaritans from that city believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me everything I have ever done.” So when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and he stayed there two days. And many more believed because of his word. They said to the woman, “It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Savior of the world.”


The timing of the lectionary and our assigned readings for the third Sunday of Lent don’t always have Jesus run into the woman at the well just after International Women’s Day – March 8th – but when it does, I think a preacher and his people are called to take notice and to connect some dots.

The internet and social media make International Women’s Day more notable and noticeable than it used to be – at least to me. According to Wikipedia, the holiday is about raising awareness and concern and calls to action around issues like gender equality, reproductive rights, and violence against women. And I learned that the occasion had its modern-day beginnings, thanks to the Socialist Party of America, as early as 1909, in support of striking garment workers. (Those darned socialists!) And it grew over the years until it became official as a global event, thanks to the United Nations, in 1977.

But, I wondered this week if – had everyone been paying more faithful attention to Jesus all along – maybe the seed of an International Women’s Day – might have been planted at a well in “a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph,” as John’s Gospel records things in Chapter 4.

See, there are some things to be learned from – and some common ground to be found – where gender equality, reproductive rights and violence against women are concerned, both where International Woman’s Day matters in the world these days and why it might have mattered to Jesus and that woman at the well had there been words for it at the time.

It’s safe to assume – and important to say – that it was most likely a robust culture of sexist, misogynistic patriarchy that caused the woman at the well this morning to have been married five times – that it wasn’t any sinful, shameful fault of her own, I mean. She was likely married off as a very young girl. She could have been left by her first husband because he had found another wife – or two. She could have been kicked to the curb by another husband because she was unable to have children. She might have been widowed by a third husband and then forced to marry his brother … such were the rules and laws and expectations of the day. (“The Biblical view of marriage,” you might say.)

And not only would Jesus have been very aware of all of this, it appears he was more sympathetic than he was judgmental about his new friend’s situation than anyone would have expected – herself included.

Well, did you know there are more than 250 million women alive today who were married before their 15th birthday – many against their will? – as if a 14 year-old in most cultures would, could, or should know what it means to want to be married. And, some say, 10 million more girls are at risk of becoming child brides by the year 2030.

And we can pretend this is something that happens in far-off lands and/or by flawed religious, cultural, political persuasions other than our own. But there are 20 states in the United States with no minimum age restrictions on marriage, as long as a parent or judge sign off on it.

According to the World Health Organization, about one in three women will experience some kind of physical or sexual abuse in her lifetime. According to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence, 1 in 7 women – compared to 1 in 25 men – have been physically injured by an intimate partner. And 1 in 10 women have been raped by their partner. 96% of murder-suicide victims involving an intimate partner are women.

All of which reminds me of another woman, caught in adultery and brought before Jesus by a bunch of men, a few chapters later in John’s Gospel. They wanted to stone her to death, as the Law would allow and as their worldview might prefer, but Jesus convinced them otherwise, saves her life, and shows them all a better way of grace.

The Global Gender Gap Report of 2021 found that at the current rate, it will take another 135 years – give or take – for women to achieve economic and political equality with men around the globe.

And, like before, we can pretend that it’s other people in other, less advanced places, that are dragging that average down. But according to the Pew Research Center, in the United States in 2022, women earned an average of 82% of what men earned, which has been relatively true for the last 20 years.

We’ve still never had a female President in our country.

Less than 30% of the House of Representatives is women, even though there are statistically more women than men in the United States.

And, even though we’re told this morning that many Samaritans from Sychar believed in Jesus because of what they learned from the woman at the well in this morning’s Gospel, and even though we know that a woman named Mary Magdalene was the first person entrusted with the Gospel’s good news of Jesus’ resurrection that first Easter morning there are still churches around the world and in our very own town – that don’t allow women to preach in their pulpits or serve in positions of leadership.

All of this matters for the women and girls in our lives. It matters for the men and boys among us, too. And it matters on International Women’s Day and on every day that’s NOT International Women’s Day, just the same.

The bottom line of it all is that Jesus sees value in people others do not – including and especially women, today – and so should we. Jesus gives ministry away to those the world will not – including and especially women, today – and so should we. Jesus challenges the status quo – always for the sake of justice, mercy and love – including and especially for the sake of women today – and so should we.

And today, Jesus goes out of his way to do all of this for and with a woman who doesn’t even get the dignity of a name in John’s Gospel – though the well from which she was drawing water does.

So maybe, today, we can see this woman and call her by the name of the women we know and love, respect and regard – our wives, our sisters, our mothers, daughters and friends – until all women and every girl are seen as wholly loved by and created fully in the image of the God of all creation.

Amen.

New Take on Nicodemus

John 3:1-17

Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one can do the signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Jesus said to him, “Very truly I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born from above.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can one be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?”

Jesus said to him, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of heaven without being born of water and spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh and what is born of the spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I have said to you, ‘You must be born of the spirit.’ The wind blows where it chooses and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the spirit.” Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?”

Jesus said, “Are you a teacher of Israel and yet you do not understand these things? Very truly I tell you, we speak about what we know and we testify to what we have seen and you do not receive our testimony. If I tell you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man.

Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life. For God so loved the world that he gave his only son that whoever believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”


Let me start by saying that I’ve always really liked Nicodemus. Every sermon I’ve ever preached about him has expressed as much. He’s always been a figure of faith and courage for me … someone who took some risks to show up to Jesus – which was hard for someone like him, being a Pharisee and all – one of those Jewish believers and religious leaders who were so often at odds with what Jesus was trying to do and say and teach and bring into the world.

So, I’ve always been inclined to love his honest curiosity. His hard questions. His rebellious willingness to approach Jesus under cover of darkness – probably risking his reputation, maybe even risking his life by consorting with the enemy, which is likely how he’d been convinced to understand Jesus. After all, what would all of his buddies, his fellow Pharisees say, if they knew where he was that night, hanging out with that heretic from Nazareth?

And I always saw it as an admirable sign of surprising deference and humility – a reverent kind of respect – that Nicodemus called Jesus “Rabbi,” and “Teacher,” before approaching him with his questions the evening they met … in secret … “by night” as the story goes.

So bear with me … because this time I wondered, for a change, if Nicodemus’ motives weren’t purely innocent when he showed up at Jesus’ door or window or whatever, under cover of that darkness? What if he was B.S.-ing Jesus? What if he was faking all of that deference, humility and curiosity? What if, as happened more than a few times throughout the course of Jesus’ ministry, Nicodemus was just another religious leader trying to trap Jesus with some trick questions?

(Before I go on, it’s important to say, in these times when anti-Semitism is rearing its sinful head in ever-prolific ways, that when I make note of the flaws of the Pharisees in Scripture, I do that, not because they’re Jewish – as too many misguided souls believe – but because they look and smell and act too much like religious people of all kinds in the world as we know it. They are meant to be more like reflections in our mirror, than like targets of our derision and judgment.)

Because there was that one time we’re told some other Pharisees plotted to entrap Jesus … so they sent their disciples to him…saying, “Teacher,” …Tell us what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?”

And another time, not long after that, we know some Pharisees heard about how Jesus had silenced the Sadducees and one of them, another Pharisee who was also a lawyer, asked Jesus a question deliberately to test him. “Teacher,” that Pharisee wanted to know, “which commandment in the law is the greatest?”

There was that other time, too, when a different lawyer stood up, again, specifically to test Jesus, we’re told, and asks him “Teacher … what must I do to inherit eternal life?” That little inquisition leads to one of the greatest stories ever told – by Jesus or anyone, for that matter – the story of the Good Samaritan.

And finally, later on in John’s Gospel, which we just heard, the scribes and Pharisees bring a woman before Jesus who had been caught in adultery and, we’re told … again … in order merely to test Jesus so that they might have some charge to bring against him, they say, “Teacher … in the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women…what do you say?”

Teacher… Teacher… Teacher… Teacher…

Test… Test… Test… Test…

In each and every one of these stories – appearing in some way, shape or form, in each and every one of the Gospels – the inquisitor – a Pharisee of some sort – calls Jesus “Teacher” before testing him or trying to trap and trick him into some sort of trouble. So, as much as I’ve always been inclined to want to like good ol’ Nicodemus … this time around, for the first time ever, I started to wonder if he just might be up to some similarly sinister shenanigans.

And this only matters, because of the state of our world these days and because of how things pan out for Jesus, for Nicodemus, and for the Good News we stand to gain from it all.

See, if we’re allowed to imagine that Nicodemus had ulterior motives that were less than pure … if not downright dangerous and deadly for Jesus … then what if his friends were waiting outside? What if there were others waiting for a word or a whistle or a warning from inside the house so they could finally catch Jesus in the act of blasphemy or heresy or whatever it was they thought they could use to justify his arrest or worse?

Because it feels like that’s how we live in the world these days … like everything is a trick or a trap; like there’s a single right or wrong answer to everything depending on your political party or religious affiliation or race or station in society or according to any other of the various and sundry labels and measuring sticks we use to identify ourselves and judge each other at any given moment on any particular topic.

And the consequences of that are closed minds and what we’ve come to call “cancel culture.” The effects of this way of life are resistance to honest reflection and a disdain for curious inquiry. The results of this phenomenon are banned books and culled curriculum and conspiracy theories; racism and religious fanaticism and dying churches; echo chambers and siloes of exclusive, similarly-minded souls; and fear and suspicion and hatred, even, of “the other” and of the outsider and of anyone who doesn’t think or believe or behave like we do.

And none of it is Christ-like – which is what Jesus shows Nicodemus and the rest of us, that night we read about in this morning’s Gospel. Because if we imagine that what I proposed about Nicodemus and his motives is true … it is Jesus who was brave and vulnerable, humble, full of faith, and gracious – as always. If Nicodemus was just like every other religious leader who had approached him before, Jesus had to be suspicious – if not downright afraid – of this stranger at the door … in the night … and whatever he had up his sleeve, that might be hiding behind and beneath his questions.

But Jesus welcomes him and his questions and his curiosity, anyway. He responds to Nicodemus without a lot of hard and fast, black and white certainty – “the wind blows where it chooses,” he says … you hear it … but who knows where it comes from or where it’s going? (What in the world does that even mean?)

Jesus offers Nicodemus honesty and patience and his own kind of curiosity – “If I speak to you about earthly things and you do not believe, how will you believe if I speak to you about heavenly things…?”

Jesus speaks from his own experience, nothing more and nothing less – “we speak about what we know” … “we testify to what we have seen…”

And he gives Nicodemus something to think about, extending to him simple grace and good news – the Gospel in miniature, as Martin Luther calls it: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son … God did not send the Son to condemn the world, but in order that the world would be saved through him.”

And something about all of that honesty, patience, lived experience, grace and good news reaches Nicodemus. And, if what I imagined about his motives this time around is true, it changed something for Nicodemus – and changed him big time. If he didn’t mean it when he called Jesus “Rabbi” and “teacher” at the start of it all, he seems to have learned a thing or two from Jesus, in the end.

Because we know Nicodemus hung with Jesus after that night. He defended Jesus in front of his accusers later on in John’s Gospel, and it was Nicodemus who showed up, after his crucifixion and death to tend to Jesus’ body, along with Joseph of Arimathea.

All of this, for me, means that if the Church and its followers want to live like Jesus and encourage others – our kids, our neighbors, our supposed enemies, and anyone/everyone who could be blessed by the grace we proclaim – if we want them to join us for this journey of faith we share, we’re called to be brave in times like these. We’re being called to be patient, curious, and open to hard questions and different points of view. We’re being called to testify to what we’ve seen and experienced about God’s grace in our lives. And we’re being called to remind each other and whoever will listen – especially those who aren’t sure about any of this – that God’s grace and goodness belong to them, and to the whole wide world, just the same;

that God showed up in Jesus – humble, brave and vulnerable, too;

willing to be condemned, not to condemn;

but to save – all of it – at all costs;

even when that meant his very life, in the end.

Amen