The Surprise!

                 What does it mean to witness, to notice, to encounter, God?

What is that experience like for us,
when the one who is for us,
reveals himself to us?

                That is the fundamental question we’re circling around in this sermon series, “Encountering God.”
And today, I would like to lift up one of those perennial experiences of God—surprise!
Surprised by the stranger,
surprised by goodness,
surprised at being moved.

The surprise of the Samaritan Woman

Let us pray.

 

                First, she is surprised by a stranger…
There Jesus was resting on the wrong side of the tracks,
the bad part of town,
a gay couple accidently attending a service at Westboro Baptist,
a Jew in Samaria...
have you ever felt out of place
—that’s this moment!

                She’s a Samaritan, he’s a Jew.
She’s a woman, he’s a man.
The wrong gender, the wrong religion and ethnicity
—for this encounter.

                This stranger asking for water, even that is indelicate
—crossing these barriers, visible and invisible
—its hard, it can be scary,
but it also is one of those places where the invisible God can become visible,
in our common humanity,
in a leap of faith,
reaching out in hope to the other side.

                In this case, the Samaritan woman is surprised, “My goodness, I’m talking to a prophet!”

                So, she brings up explicitly, one of the main tensions between her people and his
“God desires to be worshipped on Mount Gerezim,
why do you insist on Mount Zion?”

                And he unfolds a different reality,
moving off holy mountains and revealing himself as Messiah
—the one who will proclaim all things
—revealed on that clear and sunny noon day
—Spirit and Truth.

 

                This stranger named, in a roundabout way, the Samaritan Woman’s vulnerability
—you’ve had 5 husbands, plus the new guy…
of course everyone jumps to adultery,
that’s what people tend to do when there is a woman involved…
but more likely it is abandonment,
left again and again and again
—five times over.
Naming that she is left to fend for herself, excluded and isolated,
only safe to come out in the heat of the day,
the noon sun,
carrying her own water.
Left to grow hard.
Women go to the well when it is cool out, not at noon
—unless you are an ostracized, unwelcome, out of place, woman.

 

                And in this predicament of hers,
named clearly by the stranger Jesus
—this woman sees him
—the disciples often don’t see
—but she sees this stranger for who he is,
the one offering living water
—sees and receives the blessing of it.
Yes, the surprise of goodness and blessing is all the more poignant
when painted on the canvass of her struggle.

                He offers her living water
—Have you heard of living water?
The Rabbis recommend it for ritual baths.
The Early Church will recommend it for baptism.
Fresh and clean.
Bubbling, clear, living!
From God’s good earth—a sign of God’s goodness.

Think of it!

To be filled with a life flowing!

Flowing from God’s good earth

You, a sign of God’s goodness!

A living, clear, bubbling life

Fresh and clean.

                It is what some theologians call “Original Blessing,”
when we experience those words recorded in Genesis,
“O’ Yes, this is good and very good!”
The miracle of the ordinary and the familiar touched by the divine
—the experience of providence.
That too is an encounter with the divine!

 

                And then comes the last surprise, the surprise of being moved
—hearts strangely warmed,
a sure confidence,
a trusting faith.

                She goes back to her people and testifies,
“He cannot be the Messiah, can he?”
And that question mark does a heck of a lot of work
—like a shepherds’ crook, leading her listeners
—the question mark acts as Moses’ staff, and her words like Miriam’s song at the river’s edge,
“I have found the one who fills the water jar—fills it forever.
The one who saw me in the noon sun and sees me still!”
Come and see!

                These words are sewing hope,
a field of faith for which the disciples do not labor, but will reap.
For the Samaritans will go and see, as she insists.
And when they meet Jesus

 they too are moved,
caught by that original blessing, that living water,
that encounter with a stranger, that becomes an encounter with God.

Thanks be to God. Amen.