Invitation to Abundant Life: The Body of Christ - Together!

As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see. The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, “Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?” Some were saying, “It is he.” Others were saying, “No, but it is someone like him.” He kept saying, “I am the man.” But they kept asking him, “Then how were your eyes opened?” He answered, “The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ Then I went and washed and received my sight.” They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.”

They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. Now it was a sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. He said to them, “He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see.” Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not observe the sabbath.” But others said, “How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?” And they were divided. So they said again to the blind man, “What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened.” He said, “He is a prophet.”

The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight and asked them, “Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?” His parents answered, “We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.” His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews; for the Jews had already agreed that anyone who confessed Jesus to be the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. Therefore his parents said, “He is of age; ask him.”

So for the second time they called the man who had been blind, and they said to him, “Give glory to God! We know that this man is a sinner.” He answered, “I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” They said to him, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?” He answered them, “I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?” Then they reviled him, saying, “You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from.” The man answered, “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” They answered him, “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?” And they drove him out.

Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” He answered, “And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him.” Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.” He said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshiped him. Jesus said, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, “Surely we are not blind, are we?” Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.  --John 9:1-41 (NRSV)

I’d like to share a story of something that happened to me on Friday evening. It had been a pretty busy week. I was working at home, as I often do on Fridays. To catch up after a busy week and to find some quiet to write my sermon.

At around 4p I received a text message from Steven Renner. I think most of you know him, but, for those of you who don’t, he's the former pastor at Third, now serving a congregation in Alabama.

Every so often, it happens that I receive a text message from him, letting me know of a communication he’s received from someone, thinking he’s still the pastor at Third. So, on that Friday evening, as I was beginning to wrap things up, I got a text that read like this:

I just received this text.

I have no idea who this

is. Neither of us know 

a Joshua. Given the 

grammar, etc. it could 

be spam. Up to you of

course. Pease, S

my name is Joshua

I'm trying to reach

Steve Renner of the 

third Lutheran Church

can you give me a

call back as soon as

possible I have a family

emergency you reach

me at this number....

I'll be here at the number

for a little while thank

you

So, this is sometimes what we do as pastors. Make a call that we have no idea where it will go. I called this Joshua. And the minute I identified myself, out poured this incredible story, this nearly unbelievable story, of the experience he and his family had been living through for the past few days. He had been calling church after church, just wanting to be heard. 

You see, Joshua, his wife and their two kids, 3 and 6, were driving from Florida to Columbus, Ohio. He’d been offered a job where he could make $9 more dollars an hour. They’d decided to move. Had found a house to rent and paid a deposit. And were on their way there, when they pulled off I-65 at Fern Valley Road to get gas, where they were promptly broad-sided.

After the police had taken the report, the van was taken away by a towing company. In the stress of the moment, according to Joshua, he left his phone and his wallet in the van.

Now, I know where your minds are going. Because my mind went there, too. I’ve been scammed before. I know some of you have, too. 

But, here’s the thing. He never asked for money. The towing company had a strict policy. It was a policy that had been developed because of their own experiences with potential scammers. Once a vehicle was on the lot, no one - no employees, not even the owner - could enter the vehicle until fees were paid and it was restored to the vehicle owner. As much Joshua begged and pleaded over the next two days, the tow company would not relent. They would not let him get his phone and his wallet with his bank card out of the van. This also meant that he could not get the money he needed to pay the fees and retrieve his van.

What he was asking wasn’t for money, but for someone to talk to the towing company. To act as a go-between. To hopefully get them to change their mind. But, no one would hear him. No one would even listen to him. To his story. To his truth. No one would believe him.

In some respects, isn’t this what’s happening in our John text today? Our story is about a man who is speaking his truth. Who tells of his experience with Jesus - who witnesses to Jesus - over and over and over again. As he tells his story, we see his transformation - the deepening of his faith and eventual recognition of and confession of Jesus. Over and over he speaks this truth. Yet he is not heard. Or believed.

They've missed the point, these religious leaders in today’s story. They have not heard - or have refused to hear - the truth, the witness to Jesus offered by this man. Once blind. Now given sight. It is they, not him, who are unable to see. 

What’s most fascinating to me about this story of this man born blind is that he never asked to be healed. Look at the story. Nowhere, unlike other, similar stories in scripture, does this man ever ask to be healed.

So, what if. What if Jesus is healing this man, not for him. But for the community. So that he might be restored back into the community, that they might hear his truth - his experience with Jesus. And that they might believe. And that through the telling and hearing, all of them might be transformed. 

When we exclude people from community. When we refuse to hear their truths - their witness that often comes from the most unexpected people at the most unexpected times, I wonder if we don’t miss out on the abundant life God offers us. A life that is exclusive of no one. Or of no thing that God has created. A life that transforms. That changes us. A life that is worked out together. That is often messy. And that, as someone said this week in our Saturday morning study, is a crap shoot at times.

Yet, what if in this process of life together with all of our different truths - our diverse experiences of Jesus - we meet him more fully? And are all changed? Transformed to live more deeply into this abundant life as the body of Christ, together? Together.

At 1 a.m. on Saturday morning, Joshua and his family got their van back and were on their way, God willing, to a new life. A better life. A more abundant life. In the messiness of our experience together, all of us were transformed. Given a new understanding that we are all in this together. 

May we, too, understand this. That we are all in this together, living into this abundant life promised us by God - a life that is as diverse as all of our experiences. And may we also understand that, somehow, God, in Jesus, is not only with us, but is embodied in and through us. Radically changing us so that we, too, might invite others into this abundant life. Together.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Responding to God's Love: It's All About Love

Sh’ma, Yisrael! Adonai elohenu, Adonai ehad! Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord alone. Amen.

We have come far from last week’s story of Moses’ call to deliver Israel from bondage and slavery in Egypt to freedom. Through the plagues, through the night of the first Passover, through the parting of the Red Sea, to Mount Sinai, the Ten Commandments, and the covenant. To the sin of Israel even before Moses had come down off the mountain, then the forty years of wandering in the wilderness. We have come far from last week’s story. To the book of Deuteronomy.

Israel is poised on the east bank of the Jordan, eagerly waiting to cross over into the promised land. It’s a new generation of people. To prepare them to enter, Moses reviews what has happened over these past forty years. We hear his story. Just as we heard Lana’s story last week, we now hear Moses’ story - Moses’ interpretation - of these forty years in the wilderness. 

And so, as part of his review, we come to our readings for today. First, from Deuteronomy 5. 

Moses called out to all Israel, saying to them: “Israel! Listen to the regulations and the case laws that I’m recounting in your hearing right now. Learn them and carefully do them. The Lord our God made a covenant with us at Mount Horeb. The Lord didn’t make this covenant with our ancestors but with us—all of us who are here and alive right now. The Lord spoke with you face-to-face on the mountain from the very fire itself. At that time, I was standing between the Lord and you, declaring to you the Lord’s word, because you were terrified of the fire and didn’t go up on the mountain.”

The Lord said:

I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.

You must have no other gods before me. Do not make an idol for yourself—no form whatsoever—of anything in the sky above or on the earth below or in the waters under the earth. Do not bow down to them or worship them because I, the Lord your God, am a passionate God. I punish children for their parents’ sins—even to the third and fourth generations of those who hate me. But I am loyal and gracious to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments.

Do not use the Lord your God’s name as if it were of no significance; the Lord won’t forgive anyone who uses his name that way.

Keep the Sabbath day and treat it as holy, exactly as the Lord your God commanded: Six days you may work and do all your tasks, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God. Don’t do any work on it—not you, your sons or daughters, your male or female servants, your oxen or donkeys or any of your animals, or the immigrant who is living among you—so that your male and female servants can rest just like you. Remember that you were a slave in Egypt, but the Lord your God brought you out of there with a strong hand and an outstretched arm. That’s why the Lord your God commands you to keep the Sabbath day.

Honor your father and your mother, exactly as the Lord your God requires, so that your life will be long and so that things will go well for you on the fertile land that the Lord your God is giving you.

Do not kill.

Do not commit adultery.

Do not steal.

Do not testify falsely against your neighbor.

Do not desire and try to take your neighbor’s wife.

Do not crave your neighbor’s house, field, male or female servant, ox, donkey, or anything else that belongs to your neighbor.  --Deuteronomy 5:1-21 (CEB)

This recounting by Moses of the law received at Sinai is the second iteration of the Ten Commandments. Between then and now there has been a span of forty years. And the death of a generation - of the first generation to experience freedom. Not allowed to enter the promised land because of their rebellion and disbelief, even though they were eyewitnesses to the mighty acts of God. 

With this retelling of the story, Moses brings the new generation right back to Sinai. To that first giving of the law. Remembering his anger. How, as he came down the mountain with the stone tablets God had given him, he saw the first generation. Dancing around the golden calf - an idol. Already forgetting their covenant with God. It was then that he angrily threw down the tablets and watched them shatter into pieces.

Moses remembers. And he is helping this new generation remember. 

There’s something in his opening remarks that’s very interesting. In verse 3, Moses says to this new generation: “The Lord didn't make this covenant with our ancestors but with us - all of us who are here and alive right now.” That’s actually not true, is it? Because this new generation was not actually present at Sinai. But, Moses’ concern here isn’t history. (It’s the mistake we make when we think of scripture as a history or a science book.) Moses’ concern here is a deeper truth. A story of transformation. In making this statement, Moses is seeking a renewal of this generation’s commitment - of this generation’s covenant with God. Just like we do every time we celebrate baptism, or give thanks for our baptisms, or confess our sins. We, too, are renewing our promise - our covenant - with God. 

Each generation is called upon to enter anew in the covenant that God first made with Israel at Sinai. “All of us who are here and alive right now” are called to enter in and to recommit. We are once again invited into the story of God and Israel, of Christ and the church, of God and our own story. Each one of us. Just as the new generation of Israelites was as they paused to enter the promised land. 

And, so, Moses begins with the first commandment. “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the house of slavery.”

Do you notice the gift in this first commandment? We so often view the ten commandments as burden. As rule. As a weight that sits on our shoulders, pulling us down in shame. Yet, they are not a burden, but a witness to a relationship with God. Given to Israel and to us in the context of a relationship. “I am the Lord, YOUR God.” It is out of this loving relationship that the rest of the commandments flow. But, that’s not all. Because, if we read this first commandment carefully, we notice that it isn’t the law that comes first, but a gift. The gift comes before the law. Or in Lutheran terms, the gospel comes before the law here. The relationship begins with an act of deliverance. With freedom. But, what does this freedom look like?

The commandments are intended to form life-giving community compared to the exploitative economy of pharaoh. Having other gods isn’t freedom, but bondage. Working seven days a week isn’t freedom, but bondage. Hurting others isn’t freedom, but bondage.  And on and on. 

These commandments are the boundaries that allow life to flourish. Life with God and with neighbor. Life where everyone can experience freedom. Where no one is exploited. A life that is in sharp contrast to the life that the pharaoh gives - that the world gives. Where there is fear of others, a sense of scarcity and of lack of resources, anxiety, division, brokenness, bondage. This is not the life God desires for Israel. This is not the life God desires for us.

This is why God gives Israel - and us - these commandments. To shape and to form life-giving and loving relationships with God and with neighbor. Because it is all about love.

But, there’s a second part to our readings today. We continue in chapter 6. 

Israel, listen! Our God is the Lord! Only the Lord!

Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your being, and all your strength. These words that I am commanding you today must always be on your minds. Recite them to your children. Talk about them when you are sitting around your house and when you are out and about, when you are lying down and when you are getting up. Tie them on your hand as a sign. They should be on your forehead as a symbol. Write them on your house’s doorframes and on your city’s gates.  --Deuteronomy 6:4-9 (CEB)

These words in Deuteronomy 6 are central to Jewish theology and practice. Twice a day - morning and evening - they are recited. Deeply embedded in the hearts of all Jews, part of who they are. When asked what is the greatest commandment, any Jewish person would recite these words, known as the shema. It is the shema that Jesus - a Jew - recites when asked which of the commandments is the most important. Shema is the first word in this passage in Hebrew. Shema meaning “hear.” Or “listen.”  

The shema is an affirmation of our oneness with God and of God’s sovereignty. Of a God who has delivered Israel  from bondage into freedom. The shema - like the commandments - is all about love. About the unbelievable love that God first showed. How God brought Israel out of slavery. How God, in Christ, has brought us out of slavery. Because. Of. Love.

But, it doesn’t end there. Because, for the Jews, the shema isn’t only about listening to God.  In Hebrew, the shema is always connected to action. It’s like when you hear your parent tell you to do something and, then, you do it. To “hear” in Hebrew is to act. To “shema” is to act. There's no disconnect between the hearing and the doing.  

So, when we hear of God’s unfathomable love for us, our response is to act. In love. To God. And to our neighbor. Particularly, to our neighbor who does not look like us, or act like us, or live like us. We are called to respond with our whole being in love to neighbor and to all creation. Or in the most simple words most of us likely learned as children, “We love because God first loved us.”

Because, in the end, that’s what this is all about. Love.

Amen.

Preached October 6, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY

Pentecost 17

Readings: Deuteronomy 5:1-21, 6:4-9; Mark 12:28-31

Ruth--A Story for Our Time: Daring to Act

Naomi her mother-in-law said to her, “My daughter, I need to seek some security for you, so that it may be well with you. Now here is our kinsman Boaz, with whose young women you have been working. See, he is winnowing barley tonight at the threshing floor. Now wash and anoint yourself, and put on your best clothes and go down to the threshing floor; but do not make yourself known to the man until he has finished eating and drinking. When he lies down, observe the place where he lies; then, go and uncover his feet and lie down; and he will tell you what to do.” She said to her, “All that you tell me I will do.”

So she went down to the threshing floor and did just as her mother-in-law had instructed her. When Boaz had eaten and drunk, and he was in a contented mood, he went to lie down at the end of the heap of grain. Then she came stealthily and uncovered his feet, and lay down. At midnight the man was startled, and turned over, and there, lying at his feet, was a woman! He said, “Who are you?” And she answered, “I am Ruth, your servant; spread your cloak over your servant, for you are next-of-kin.” He said, “May you be blessed by the Lord, my daughter; this last instance of your loyalty is better than the first; you have not gone after young men, whether poor or rich. And now, my daughter, do not be afraid, I will do for you all that you ask, for all the assembly of my people know that you are a worthy woman. But now, though it is true that I am a near kinsman, there is another kinsman more closely related than I. Remain this night, and in the morning, if he will act as next-of-kin for you, good; let him do it. If he is not willing to act as next-of-kin for you, then, as the Lord lives, I will act as next-of-kin for you. Lie down until the morning.”

So she lay at his feet until morning, but got up before one person could recognize another; for he said, “It must not be known that the woman came to the threshing floor.” Then he said, “Bring the cloak you are wearing and hold it out.” So she held it, and he measured out six measures of barley, and put it on her back; then he went into the city. She came to her mother-in-law, who said, “How did things go with you, my daughter?” Then she told her all that the man had done for her, saying, “He gave me these six measures of barley, for he said, ‘Do not go back to your mother-in-law empty-handed.’” She replied, “Wait, my daughter, until you learn how the matter turns out, for the man will not rest, but will settle the matter today.” Ruth 3:1-18 (NRSV)


Grace and peace to you from God, our Creator, and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Have you ever done something daring? 

Perhaps at the time, it didn’t seem so daring. But, as time passed and you began to reflect upon it, you realized that, at that time, it was a daring thing for you to do.

In 1992, I was the newly-elected president of my local union. We represented courtroom clerks throughout all of Los Angeles County. And my ascendance to the presidency wasn’t really something I planned to do. 

Before I was elected, my predecessor, the president of our local had become quite controversial. We hadn’t had a raise in over 2 years. And, in trying to publicly highlight our cause, he had done several things that had angered the presiding judge--a judge elected by all of the judges countywide to oversee the whole system. So, in response to the situation, I decided to write a letter to all of my colleagues throughout the main courthouse in downtown Los Angeles. Suddenly, one day our local president walked into my courtroom and invited me to step into an open position on our local’s executive board.

After giving it some thought, I agreed. Perhaps, I shouldn't have. Because soon, it became apparent that our local president was not only eccentric, but he was also embezzling funds from our treasury. Within 6 months, we had removed him from office. It was then that I found myself elected president, even though I never planned it that way. 

Now, none of this might seem very daring. And, it really didn’t to me at the time. But, over the next four years, as we continued to lack a wage increase, it was under my leadership that, in November 1997, 95% of the courtroom clerks walked off the job across the county, on strike for 10 days. I found out later that it was the first time in a quarter century that any labor group had ever walked out on a judicial system across the U.S. It was a daring act for us. But, it didn’t seem daring at the time. Because for us, it was a matter of survival. A matter of financial survival.

It is this type of daring act--a matter of survival--that is central to our story today. We’ve heard over the past two weeks of the vulnerability of Ruth and her mother-in-law, Naomi. Naomi, who had moved to another country--to Moab--with her husband because of a famine in Bethlehem. Then, the birth of two sons and the eventual death of all of the men in her life--her husband and her two sons. We heard of her vulnerability as a widow and a childless woman. And, of the vulnerability of her daughter-in-law, Ruth. Also, a widow and childless. We heard of the decision to return to Naomi’s homeland--to Bethlehem. And, of Ruth’s decision to accompany her--just one of many examples of Ruth’s hesed. Her love in action for Naomi. A decision that doubled Ruth’s vulnerability--now, not only a widow, but also an immigrant. 

Over the past 2 weeks, we have also seen a shift in our story--a shift from the sense of loss and emptiness experienced by Naomi and Ruth, to the beginning of hope. Hope that appeared in the person of Boaz. A landowner. A family member. Naomi’s kin.

In today’s episode of our story, we see those buds of hope blossom. Now, if you read between the lines of our story, you quickly see that this is a story of seduction. Of a daring act. An act by Ruth that, one might think is completely out of character for her. An act that is counter-cultural. One that most people would raise their eyebrows at. But it is a daring act by a woman who is desperate to secure her future and that of her mother-in-law.

It is the evening at the end of a successful harvest. You can imagine that there was food flowing. And, especially, that there was drink also flowing. Boaz is, our text says, in a “good” mood. Another translation says that he was contented. He curls up next to a grain pile and falls asleep. 

As this has been going on, Naomi has been instructing Ruth. Take a bath. Put on some perfume. Wear something nice. And, then, go down to the threshing floor. Don’t make yourself known to Boaz until he has finished eating and drinking and has lain down. Then, and only then, go to him, uncover his feet, and lie down. He will tell you what to do next.

So, Ruth does it. Everything that Naomi tells her to do. Except she doesn’t wait for Boaz to say anything. Instead, Ruth--kind, sweet, loyal Ruth--proposes marriage! This is what the phrase “spread out your robe over your servant” means. Ruth proposes marriage to Boaz, who we know is substantially older than she.

Now, we need to step back for a moment to understand what is going on here. There is a custom at work in this story that we need to be aware of. In her proposal to Boaz, Ruth calls for him to fulfill his duty as a go-el. Go-el is a Hebrew word that means kinsman-redeemer. Under Israel’s law, the closest male relative is obligated to redeem his kin who have fallen onto hard times. So, as she proposes marriage to Boaz, Ruth is saying, “Do your duty!” Do what you are obligated to do as my go-el, as my kinsman-redeemer. Save me!

Now, to our 21st century ears, this may be a little challenging. We think of women as independent today and having their own choices in terms of their future. This is not what ancient Israel was like, however. In this patristic society, women who were widowed or childless were vulnerable. This was why the law was implemented in the first place--to ensure that women who were vulnerable were protected. They relied upon their go-el, their kinsman-redeemer to do this.

It is, however, a daring act for Ruth to make the first move. To call on Boaz to offer her redemption. Yet, there was also redemption for Boaz here. It’s apparent from our story that Boaz is presumably an older man. Ruth could have chosen others--she’s still a young woman. Yet, she chooses him. So, for Ruth and for Boaz, there is mutual redemption.

This Wednesday evening, you have an opportunity to engage in a daring act, just like Ruth. We will gather with our siblings in Christ at Shiloh Methodist. We’ll begin at 6 p.m. with a potluck dinner. This will be followed at 6:30 p.m. by a conversation--a Sacred Conversation--around the topic of immigration. This is a controversial topic in our world today. It is a complex issue. It is a divisive issue--an issue that has separated and continues to divide us to the point where we no longer talk with each other about it, but we talk at each other about it. How do we change the conversation? How do we break through our division and begin to hear each other? 

We have the opportunity this Wednesday. An opportunity to listen to each other respectfully. To hear and to identify our common values and, then, to find a way forward. It is an opportunity that is counter-cultural. It pushes back against a culture that says “it’s my way, or the highway!” It pushes back against a culture that demands that my answer is the only right answer. To choose to be there--to participate in this Sacred Conversation--is a daring act. It takes courage to step out of the mold that our culture teaches us to follow--a mold that will only continue to divide us. Will you be courageous? Will you be bold and daring? Will you come and participate?

I hope you will come. In truth, I dare you to come. Because it is out of daring acts, that redemption comes.  And blessing. We see it already in our story today. And we will see it in full next week. And we know it as children of God--children of a God who sent a Kinsman-Redeemer to us to save us. To redeem us. And, who out of that redemption, gives us abundant blessing.

So, be bold. Be daring. And trust that God will be at work among us. And that God will give us the courage to dare to act. Amen.

Preached Sunday, August 5, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Pentecost 11
Readings: Ruth 3:1-18 (Matthew 7:7-8).

Invitation to Abundant Life: Thirsty?

Now when Jesus learned that the Pharisees had heard, “Jesus is making and baptizing more disciples than John” —although it was not Jesus himself but his disciples who baptized— he left Judea and started back to Galilee. But he had to go through Samaria. 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.

Meanwhile the disciples were urging him, “Rabbi, eat something.” But he said to them, “I have food to eat that you do not know about.” So the disciples said to one another, “Surely no one has brought him something to eat?” Jesus said to them, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work. Do you not say, ‘Four months more, then comes the harvest’? But I tell you, look around you, and see how the fields are ripe for harvesting. The reaper is already receiving wages and is gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice together. For here the saying holds true, ‘One sows and another reaps.’ I sent you to reap that for which you did not labor. Others have labored, and you have entered into their labor.”

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.” John 4:1-42 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from our Lord and Savior, the Messiah, who is Christ, the Lord. Amen.

I first experienced “it” when I was nine years old. I was a young girl, growing up on a ranch, pretty accustomed to hard work. Carrying five-gallon pails of feed and bales of hay. I was pretty strong for my age.

So, in fourth grade, after I’d already been playing piano for five years and the clarinet for one, and after I noticed a big double bass violin sitting in our music room at the public school I attended, I was kind of surprised at my music teacher’s response when I asked if I could learn how to play this big, beautifully carved instrument. “No,” he said. “Girls can’t play the double bass. Their fingers are too weak for the heavy strings.”

You see, I’d never experienced it before. That “being a girl” limited me in any way. I lived on a ranch where everyone simply had to do whatever was needed to make sure things got done. There was no difference between what I could do or what my brother could do. 

I didn’t really know at that time what “it” was. But, I knew it felt very unfair. And that it just wasn’t right. I was a strong girl and a very musical girl. After all these years, I still believe I could have learned the double bass in no time flat and with no fingering difficulties.

As I got older, “it” happened more and more. And “it” took on different forms. Sometimes, “it” was just a little slight. Something I could brush off easily. Like getting served second after a boy in the dining hall when I’d been there first. Or silly things boys would say--”Girls are weak, but guys are strong!”

At other times, “it” wasn’t so slight. Often “it” was frustrating. Like at work, when I’d put forward a new idea or raise an issue over and over again with a male superior with no response. And then see an immediate response to a male colleague who would put forward my idea or raise my issue and immediately be heard. Or the time when a deputy sheriff I worked with, said to me, “You know, you’d get more dates if you’d act more stupid.”

Sometimes “it” was frightening. Like the time in my early twenties when I went to my usual laundromat, as I did weekly, and walked in the door to see a man sitting on a washing machine exposing himself to me. I walked to the far end and, when I turned around, everything was magically normal and it was as though I’d imagined the entire experience.

Sometimes “it” was appalling. Like the time, when, as the present of my local union at the courts in Los Angeles, I sat with colleagues and listened as they told me the stories of how, when women were first hired there in the 1970’s, there was an unspoken rule for female court clerks. That, in their case, they were expected to serve the judge in every way he required. And that some of them did. Because they needed the job to support their families.

Over time, I’ve kept telling myself “it” is getting better. That there have been continuous gains in overcoming “it.” That since I started working in the 1980’s, “it” has diminished. But then another wave washes over our society. Another movement of rising up. More women sharing their stories. Vast numbers of women posting #metoo on Twitter or on Facebook . On my page alone, many. From my 16-year-old cousin, to friends in their 40’s and 50’s and from the oldest--my aunt who is 92 years old. Over and over and over again, it seems, we fight to change “it”. Over and over and over again, it seems, we fail. We cannot seem to fully eliminate “it.” We can not seem to fully erase the sexism that continues to reign in our world today.

How did we get here? How did reach a point where sexism is so deeply embedded in our society that it seems impossible to overcome?

To answer that question, we need to go back centuries. Millenia, to be exact. If we’re reading Scripture, to Genesis, chapter 3, after the fall, where God says to Eve: “I will greatly increase your pangs in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children, yet your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.” Sexism comes from our own brokenness. Patriarchy has reigned in our world for thousands and thousands of years. Over and over and over again, men have created structures that have sought to keep women in their place. Or at least the place where men believed women should be. It has resulted in deeply embedded biases that continue to exist today. Biases that are often implicit, hidden, unseen. Yet, still there. In men. And in women.

Yes, I said “and in women.” Because, ladies, we have learned patriarchy well. Often we are our own worst enemies. Tearing each other apart. Just as in a conversation I heard one day in my home church in Pasadena between two women. As they were talking about our pastor--a female pastor--one of them said to the other, “Oh, it would be so refreshing to hear a man’s voice from the pulpit.”

It is bias...it is sexism...it is patriarchy that for centuries has also caused the misinterpretation of the story that is our focus today. How often have we heard this story of the Samaritan woman characterized as “the woman caught in adultery!” Yet, if we read it carefully and we understand its context, both culturally and as it is placed in the Gospel of John, there is nowhere in this story that this conclusion can be reached. There is nothing in it that reflects that she is an adulteress. It is not there. Just as, in her story, there is NO condemnation from Jesus there. Either.  

So, what do we have in our story? We have a woman. First problem. If you haven’t figured it out from our Old Testament readings over these past few months, Israel was a deeply patriarchal society. Women were property. Good for bearing children. Not good if one was unable to bear children. A man could divorce a woman for the most minor of reasons simply by saying the words, “I divorce you.” She would then be homeless. And penniless. This was why producing a child--particularly, a male child--ensured her security into old age. And why being barren was terrifying.

Next, she was a Samaritan woman. Second problem. The Jewish and Samaritan people hated each other. Even though they confessed the same God, there was long-standing hostility between them that was centered around where God should be worshipped. If Jesus, as a Jew, had received a drink of water from her, he would have immediately been unclean. This is why, when he asks her for a drink, she challenges him: “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?”

Next, they met at a well. Third problem. If you recall, wells were the places where you went to meet the opposite sex. To find a wife. Or a husband. And this well--well, it wasn’t just any old well. It was Jacob’s well--a place where Jacob and Rachel were engaged and, where Jacob’s son, Isaac, and Rebekkah were betrothed. Engagements happened at wells. They were places of intimacy. Intimacy experienced as sexual tension. Places where a man and a woman were not supposed to be alone together.

Next, and finally, they met at the sixth hour. At noon. Another problem. Or at least, that’s how it's been interpreted for us these past 2,000 years. That, instead of going to the well early in the morning like all of the other women did, she went in the middle of the day, when the sun was bright and it was hot. Just so she could escape the shame and mockery of the other women. This interpretation completely ignores that this was also the time of day with the light. Light, which, in John, signifies belief and faith. 

When we lay this problematic story, as the Gospel writer has, beside last week’s story of Nicodemus, and we compare and contrast them, here is what we have: An unnamed woman from a despised people at the well in broad daylight, compared to a named Jewish leader coming to Jesus in the middle of the night.

What is the author of John doing?

Do you remember our passage from last week--John 3:16? “For God so loved the world…?”

By putting these two stories side-by-side, John is showing us who exactly is included in that world that God loved. Nicodemus should have been the one who got it, rather than this unnamed woman at the well. Instead, John places her here to show us just who God has invited into abundant life--into the living water.

You see it is not only for those on the inside. But, it is, particularly, for those on the outside. For those who finally say, “I have no husband,” with all of the pain and suffering that is behind those words. That, in her case, comes from the likely reality that she has either been widowed. Or divorced. Or both.  Because she was barren. And because she is likely now suffering the humiliation of a Levirate marriage, a type of marriage prescribed in Scripture. Where her husband has died and she has been passed from brother to brother, finally reaching the youngest who can refuse to marry her, but must still take her into his home to care for her. 

When Jesus asks her to go get her husband, it all comes pouring out. All the pain and heartache. All the loneliness and shame. Everything that she has experienced comes pouring out.

What does Jesus do? Jesus hears her. He listens. And he does not condemn her.  Not once.

This is what we must do to overcome “it.” To overcome sexism. Or racism. Or class-ism. Or any other “ism” that is out there. We. Must. Listen. We must hear the stories and we must believe them. We must listen to the pain and suffering, the loneliness and shame. And we must not condemn. So often, we recite the words of John 3:16, yet we overlook those of John 3:17. “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.”

Jesus did not condemn her. And, unlike Nicodemus, this unnamed Samaritan woman became a witness to him. “Many Samaritans from that city believed in Jesus because of the woman’s testimony,” our story tells us. Many Samaritans. All because of her witness.

So, let us also be like her, this unnamed Samaritan woman, who shows us what is to be Jesus’ disciple. Let us be witnesses to Jesus and to a God who loved all the world so much that God gave God’s only son, that whoever believes in him will not perish, but will have living water. Abundant life. Here and now. And for all time. 

May God grant it. Amen.

Preached February 4, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany
Readings: Psalm 42:1-3, 5; John 4:1-42