Living Water
John 4:5–42
February 24, 2008
University Christian Church, Seattle, WA
Rev. Sandy Messick

Why did she leave her water jar at the well? This Samaritan woman in the story. When she ran off to tell the townspeople about Jesus, the scriptures make a point of telling us she left her water jar there by the well and ran off. Sometimes I wonder why. Clearly, the water was important to her. She’d come to the well in the middle of the day, in the heat of the day to get water. She wouldn’t have done that unless she needed the water. Women didn’t come to the well in the middle of the day. They came in the cool of the morning, or the cool of the evening. So either, she came at noon because she’d run out of water and couldn’t wait until evening. Or she came because it was only then, when she would be alone, that it was safe for her to come to the well. In either case, she wouldn’t have made that decision lightly. And yet she left the water there when she ran off to tell others about Jesus. I wonder why?

John doesn’t even tell us her name. She’s just a Samaritan woman. But the Greek Orthodox Church has named her. She is known as Photini. And legend has it that after her encounter with Jesus she became a baptized disciple of his, preaching and sharing the good news with others, founding Christian communities, even being martyred for her faith under the Roman Emperor Nero along with her five daughters and three sons. In the Greek Orthodox tradition she is St. Photini and her feast day is February 26. So now she has a name, and a feast day, but no jar filled with water.

Maybe she left the jar because she was so flustered by her encounter with Jesus. She’d come to the well that day seeking to fulfill a household routine; to gather, as women had gathered for ages, the life-giving water needed for her family. But when she arrived, a man was there. Jesus. Sitting at the well. And he spoke to her, asking her for water.

Many myths have risen up about this woman. That she was a sinner. That she was unclean and shunned by the community. Well, maybe, but the scriptures don’t tell us all of that. Here’s what John tells us: Here’s what we know. That she was a woman. And for a man to talk to a woman to whom he wasn’t married or related in public was not only highly unusual, it was forbidden. And yet Jesus spoke with her.

The scriptures tell us that she was a Samaritan. This is where you wrinkle your nose and say with disdain, “Oooh, a Samaritan!” There was some mighty powerful bad blood between Jews and Samaritans in those days. Despite the fact that they shared a common heritage. Despite the fact that they both claimed the same God. Each saw themselves as the true descendants of Jacob, the Samaritans tracing their line through Joseph, the Jews tracing their line through Judah. And yet, despite their shared DNA, they saw themselves as opposites. As opponents. As separate: us vs. them. As foreigners to each other and ones to be avoided. That’s why it’s always a shock in the scriptures when Jesus talks about Samaritans seeing the truth; about the Samaritans being the ones who “get it.” That’s the shock of the story of the Good Samaritan. It was the Samaritan that cared for the one in need, not the faithful Jewish priest or Levite. That’s the shock in the story of the 10 lepers who were cured by Jesus. Only one returned to say “thank you” and it was a Samaritan! That’s the shock of this story, that Jesus, the faithful Jew, would stoop and lower himself to have a conversation with not just a woman, but a Samaritan woman. But he did.

And then we find out she’s a woman who has had many husbands. This is where the sinner part comes in. The traditional interpretation is that she was promiscuous, a harlot, a whore. Why else would she have had 5 husbands and now be living with one who is not her husband? Except in those days, women had no power. They couldn’t own land. They couldn’t inherit. They couldn’t get a job. So if they were going to survive, it was going to be through their husband. And if her husband died, especially if she didn’t have a son from that husband, she was likely to be passed around to the next available man. Perhaps a relative of the first. Or perhaps someone the community deemed willing to take her on. What if she wasn’t a sinner, but just extremely unlucky, the victim of a society that made her dependent upon whatever man might take her in. And at the time she met Jesus, she was dependent upon one who wasn’t her husband. Was she shunned by the community? Perhaps, although we’re not told that in so many words. Had she lived a difficult life? Almost certainly. Even so, Jesus struck up a conversation with her and she responded.

The conversation began with a request from Jesus for a drink of water. He requested something of her that she could give, and she responded with questions of her own. The conversation ranged from astonishment that he would talk with her at all, to a discussion about living water and what that might mean, to the recognition that Jesus was a teacher, to a theological discussion about where and how to worship God. This is the longest conversation recorded in any of the gospels that Jesus had with anyone. And it is a conversation between this Jewish man Jesus and the Samaritan woman named not by John but by some as Photini.

No wonder she was befuddled. And overwhelmed. Maybe that’s why she left her jar of water that day at the well. Never before had she encountered such respect and acceptance and hope.

Or maybe she was more than befuddled. She was excited. She left the water there and ran off to tell the townspeople. Imagine her running through the streets telling her tale. “I met a man at Jacob’s well…” Now Jacob’s well, you know about Jacob’s well. Throughout history, that well had been a place for husbands and wives to meet up. I can imagine the townspeople rolling their eyes. “She met a man at Jacob’s well, I know how this story is going to end.” But then she went on, “I met a man at Jacob’s well and he told me all about myself. Everything I’d ever done. And we had a conversation. And he offered me living water that would finally quench my thirst.” And then she stopped, and paused. “He couldn’t be the Messiah…could he?”

Even in her uncertainty, it was enough. The townspeople listened and they too went out to see. They too talked with Jesus and then they asked Jesus to stay, and he did. There with the Samaritans. A Jew in the midst of the enemy, telling them about the God of love who transcends our “us and them.”

The townspeople turned to the woman and said, “It is no longer just from what you say that we believe, for now we have heard it for ourselves. We know this is truly the Savior of the world.” Greek Orthodox legend has it that these were only the first converts that Photini made, that many others heard the good news through her and came to believe for themselves.

So maybe that’s why she left her jar of water there at the well. Maybe she left it there because she found something more important than water that would quench a physical thirst. Maybe she found the living water that quenches the thirst that comes from deepest within. In her encounter with Jesus she found that which filled her deepest need: the need to be respected and accepted and welcomed and known. Jesus, who knew everything about her showed her the one thing she didn’t know about herself: that in the eyes of God she was a treasure to be valued.

And maybe that’s another reason she left her jar there at the well. Because through Jesus, when she had received that living water, she became that water jar for others. She became the vessel filled with the living water, sharing that life-giving water with the rest of the world. Sharing that living water with us. She’s still calling you know, her voice travels down through the ages: Come and see…

Come and see the one who knows all about you. Come and taste of the life-giving water that quenches your deepest need. Come and be filled with that living water, so that you may go into the world to share it, because there are yet still others who long to hear; still others who long to be found; still others who are dying of thirst. And what is this living water? This gift that Jesus gave that Samaritan woman that day? Perhaps it was simply this: a cup filled with acceptance, topped off with a dollop of grace, held out to each one of us.