A chance meeting
John 4:1-30
The hinge verse--the verse on which this whole story turns--is 4:23. To understand why it is the hinge, we need to reflect on a few details. The woman at the well is a Samaritan--a descendant of the Northern tribes of Israel who were wiped from the face of the earth by the Assyrians in the time of Isaiah, centuries before Jesus lived. Jesus' faith community--the Jews--were the descendants of the Southern tribes--just Judah and Benjamin--who survived the Assyrians, but fell to the Babylonians and endured the Exile. Cyrus the Persian allowed them to return to their land following his defeat of the Babylonians, and, under Ezra and Nehemiah, restored the Temple and the faith practice associated with it. The Samaritans, though, also sought to keep alive the faith in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, setting Bethel, the ancient site of Jacob wrestling with God, as their holy place, but the Torah long faded from their consciousness. As a result, the descendants of Judah reviled the Samaritans as apostates and heretics to the point that they were declared untouchable for all intents and purposes. With this history, we see the power of Jesus' statement.
What Jesus says is that where we worship and even how we worship will ultimately become irrelevant. God will know the faithful; the faithful will know God, no matter what religious practice they adopt.
First, there is a difference between faith and religion. Faith is belief in God. Faith is acknowledgement that God is. Faith is accepting that if God is, then we are compelled to live accordingly; i.e., conform our lives to God. Faith is trusting God to be God. Religion is the human institution through which we live in expression of our faith. Religion gives us the rites and rituals by which to worship. Religion gives us the standards, rules, and expectations by which to live for God. Religion codifies our belief.
Religion, then, is a human work. As such, it is as limited, fallible, and corrupt as the humans who practice it.
The Samaritan had her religion. She must have been to Bethel. She must follow her order of prayers and sacrifices. She must listen to the lessons and stories that flesh out her practice. Jesus comes from within his religion. He declares himself the fulfillment of the Torah--the ultimate rulebook of Judaism. His followers name him Messiah, the promised Savior their religion points to in its own set of lessons and stories. Jesus travels to and from the Temple in Jerusalem, the House of God, to offer his own sacrifices, prayers, and oblations.
But Jesus knows they each must transcend their religion to fully be with God.
Their respective religions tell them that they cannot coexist. Jesus' companions are mortified that he speaks to her because (A) she is a Samaritan; and (B) she is a woman. Their religion tells them that such a person is beneath contempt and poses a real threat to the sanctity of a rabbi like Jesus. Likewise, the woman's religion tells her to be skeptical of this Israeli man. It tells her that he thinks he is right when he is wrong. Religion digs an impassable trench between them.
So, Jesus proclaims, the religion must go.
Stunning.
Does it mean that I, a pastor in a mainline Protestant denomination, must set aside my robe of ordination, tell everyone to just go home on Sunday morning, and renounce all my practice?
No.
But I need to realize that my religion is a tool for my practice of my faith, and that as others find God and find a practice that draws them close to God, they are all right, even if their practice diverges wildly from my own. It is not about which Church is right, it is about being with God.
God seems big enough to handle the diversity of human beings--why else would God have used Jackson Pollock's flung paint as the model of creating human beings? God is big enough to hear and to accept the prayers that rise in the gaggle of languages, colors, voices, nuances, and rituals that flow from this scattershot palette of humanity. The important thing is to find our voice--the one that works for us, that expresses our faith as we believe, and that draws us close to God. God is listening. God is seeking. God is aware of all of us.
Jesus tells the woman that God is beyond ready to meet with her and with him as they are, where they are, how they are, and for whom they are.
Together.
A colleague of mine suggested that we hang a banner across the church for all to see that simply said, "ALL!"
Yes.
That is what Christ is getting at.
The hinge verse--the verse on which this whole story turns--is 4:23. To understand why it is the hinge, we need to reflect on a few details. The woman at the well is a Samaritan--a descendant of the Northern tribes of Israel who were wiped from the face of the earth by the Assyrians in the time of Isaiah, centuries before Jesus lived. Jesus' faith community--the Jews--were the descendants of the Southern tribes--just Judah and Benjamin--who survived the Assyrians, but fell to the Babylonians and endured the Exile. Cyrus the Persian allowed them to return to their land following his defeat of the Babylonians, and, under Ezra and Nehemiah, restored the Temple and the faith practice associated with it. The Samaritans, though, also sought to keep alive the faith in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, setting Bethel, the ancient site of Jacob wrestling with God, as their holy place, but the Torah long faded from their consciousness. As a result, the descendants of Judah reviled the Samaritans as apostates and heretics to the point that they were declared untouchable for all intents and purposes. With this history, we see the power of Jesus' statement.
What Jesus says is that where we worship and even how we worship will ultimately become irrelevant. God will know the faithful; the faithful will know God, no matter what religious practice they adopt.
First, there is a difference between faith and religion. Faith is belief in God. Faith is acknowledgement that God is. Faith is accepting that if God is, then we are compelled to live accordingly; i.e., conform our lives to God. Faith is trusting God to be God. Religion is the human institution through which we live in expression of our faith. Religion gives us the rites and rituals by which to worship. Religion gives us the standards, rules, and expectations by which to live for God. Religion codifies our belief.
Religion, then, is a human work. As such, it is as limited, fallible, and corrupt as the humans who practice it.
The Samaritan had her religion. She must have been to Bethel. She must follow her order of prayers and sacrifices. She must listen to the lessons and stories that flesh out her practice. Jesus comes from within his religion. He declares himself the fulfillment of the Torah--the ultimate rulebook of Judaism. His followers name him Messiah, the promised Savior their religion points to in its own set of lessons and stories. Jesus travels to and from the Temple in Jerusalem, the House of God, to offer his own sacrifices, prayers, and oblations.
But Jesus knows they each must transcend their religion to fully be with God.
Their respective religions tell them that they cannot coexist. Jesus' companions are mortified that he speaks to her because (A) she is a Samaritan; and (B) she is a woman. Their religion tells them that such a person is beneath contempt and poses a real threat to the sanctity of a rabbi like Jesus. Likewise, the woman's religion tells her to be skeptical of this Israeli man. It tells her that he thinks he is right when he is wrong. Religion digs an impassable trench between them.
So, Jesus proclaims, the religion must go.
Stunning.
Does it mean that I, a pastor in a mainline Protestant denomination, must set aside my robe of ordination, tell everyone to just go home on Sunday morning, and renounce all my practice?
No.
But I need to realize that my religion is a tool for my practice of my faith, and that as others find God and find a practice that draws them close to God, they are all right, even if their practice diverges wildly from my own. It is not about which Church is right, it is about being with God.
God seems big enough to handle the diversity of human beings--why else would God have used Jackson Pollock's flung paint as the model of creating human beings? God is big enough to hear and to accept the prayers that rise in the gaggle of languages, colors, voices, nuances, and rituals that flow from this scattershot palette of humanity. The important thing is to find our voice--the one that works for us, that expresses our faith as we believe, and that draws us close to God. God is listening. God is seeking. God is aware of all of us.
Jesus tells the woman that God is beyond ready to meet with her and with him as they are, where they are, how they are, and for whom they are.
Together.
A colleague of mine suggested that we hang a banner across the church for all to see that simply said, "ALL!"
Yes.
That is what Christ is getting at.
Comments
Post a Comment