23“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. 24 God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.” [John 4:23-24, NRSV]
Christ and the Woman of Samaria, by Jacek Malczewski in 1910-1912 (Public Domain)
The Gospel of John is symbol-rich.
The narrative on Jesus’ encounter with a Samaritan woman in chapter 4 is intensely rich for the season of Lent. All the more so, when one factors in the awareness of the third Sunday of Lent being in the season of “scrutiny” for catechumens and how deeply John 4 invites members of the parish community to scrutinize their own Christian living. We are also witnessing the 10th anniversary of the papacy of Pope Francis this year during which an avalanche of reflections may be expected from around the globe. For scrutiny and anniversary, John’s packed-account of the encounter at Jacob’s well in Sychar serves up a rich menu of pointers for reflection.
Strangely, one of the most crucial aspects, that of joy in an experience of deep encounter with Christ, seems to receive less attention than it deserves. John’s rich symbols and Francis’ penchant for attention on encounter, with Christ and with each other, certainly help to underline this joy.
John did not write in vain. Jesus, John insisted, worked many more signs than he could find space for in his gospel. But whatever he did include in his gospel was intended to help the readers to “believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing you may have life in his name” (John 20:30-31). John 4 falls squarely within this Johannine programme.
In the text, John says in verse 4 that Jesus “had to” (RSV) (that it was “necessary” – edei in Greek) pass through Samaria. In Jewish reality at the time, that “necessary” could not be further from the truth! Trekking northwards from Judea to Galilee, Jewish travelers would always take a detour, despite an additional day or two of travel time, in order to avoid contact with their historical enemies, the Samaritans – those “half-breeds” who worshipped on Mount Gerizim instead of Jerusalem. But Jesus is here to overcome that division. “The hour is coming,” when we all shall worship God in spirit and truth. To worship God in “spirit and truth” demands worshiping him in grace – the grace Christ comes to bring. In saying that Jesus had to go through Samaria, John is naming the ensuing encounter at Jacob’s well a “divine necessary”, a divine mission. John is saying: sit up and pay close attention.
The encounter takes place at high noon (the “sixth hour”) when the brightness of the midday sun points to Jesus as “the light of the world”. Whoever follows him “will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12). The woman comes out into the light, which contrasts sharply with Nicodemus in the previous chapter, who is but a “closet Christian” who visited Jesus under the cover of darkness at night (John 3). The midday heat also betrays the woman as a social reject. She avoids the other village women; nor are they eager to meet her.
John makes it clear that by divine will, she is to encounter Jesus at the well. At once, readers are alerted to the question: Which well are you drinking from? In the Gospels, encountering Jesus is always a dangerous thing: you either experience conversion and thenceforth drink from Jesus’ well, or you get exposed as one whose heart is hardened against God’s ways. Either way, Jesus comes as one willing to listen and to accompany you, just as he has shown at Jacob’s well. No wonder the twin elements of listening and accompanying the marginalized feature so prominently in Pope Francis’ pastoral approach.
Furthermore, there is a prior element that must not be left unsaid. Pope Francis follows the Lord Jesus in refusing to be negative and judgmental. The culture of encounter of which he regularly speaks insists on the need for acceptance, respect and love as essential parts of the posture one should have towards those one encounters. He rejects keeping a distance and counsels closeness. Consider the Samaritan woman: her life has been a bit of a mess and she is living in sin. How do people like her think of themselves? It is all too easy for them to, at least deep down and in private, loathe themselves, to fear to meet God, thinking that they are unlovable and cannot possibly be loved by God. This Samaritan woman knows she is socially unacceptable. So she avoids the usual morning crowd of women at the well. But Jesus accepts her. Far from keeping his distance from her, he breaks social taboo, asks her for a drink, and strikes up a conversation.
Then, in encountering and listening attentively to the woman at the well, Jesus “hears” from the heart. So Francis sees listening as an indispensable element – perhaps the most essential of virtues – in all authentic human communication. He frequently exhorts his readers to be “genuinely attentive in listening to others” because “listening means paying attention, wanting to understand, to value, to respect, and to ponder what the other person says.”
In that deep communication at the well, Jesus’ hearing from the heart helps the woman to listen to herself, to her truest needs inscribed in her inmost being. By so doing, Jesus takes the woman at the well through a process of scrutiny aimed at exposing her to the root of her unquenched thirst. All this, is so that Jesus can go on to lift her up to the consciousness of her ultimate thirst which is for the living water that Christ alone can offer. Only when she surrenders her earthly and insatiable desires of the flesh and easy life, and accepts Christ, will she be filled with lasting joy such as the world cannot give. Her conversion, which progresses step by step, is patiently accompanied by Jesus who finally reveals himself to her as the Christ.
Even more than patience and loving company, John 4 teaches that Jesus accompanies the marginalized with the truth, rather than to accommodate them with falsehood. He accepts the sinful woman, but he calls her out and compels her to face her true self and to admit the truth.
This is of great importance for all Christian churches at the present time. The Catholic Church, for instance, is “fumbling” along on this 2022-2023 journey of discernment on the subject of the synodal church called by the Pope. Some critics have of course expressed worry that the focus of “journeying together” will lead the Church towards accommodation with hostile, secular cultures or to erosion of Church teaching. Others suspect the listening process will in fact muzzle challenging and dissenting voices. What we see now, and it is a matter of some concern, is that indeed unruly voices have been stirred by certain agenda-driven groups attempting to hijack the synod proceedings, on such issues as homosexuality and recognition of homosexual marriage. In ways that are excessively fixated on these trumped up issues, the German church at some point appeared to have even set itself on a schismatic track. Dogged focus on narrow interests had monopolized discussions and skewed community perspective. The problem appears worse, and certainly more intractable, for the Church of England where some bishops are set to approve legislation on sacramental marriage for homosexuals – a heretical move that clearly runs foul of the Biblical definition of marriage.
In the end, her heart filled with joy by this “stranger”, the Samaritan woman now recognizes him as more than a prophet who in fact sounds increasingly like who he announces himself to be – the Messiah for whom her people have long been waiting. She too is now ready to joyfully drink from his well which delivers living water with which she will thirst no more.
By a stroke of genius, John tells of her boundless abandonment to this new found joy, as she leaves behind her water jar at the well – her single most important task at this time – much like the first disciples leaving behind their fishing boats and nets in answer to Jesus’ “Come, follow me”, and dashes off mindlessly to evangelise the village. She just exudes joy. Who does she think she is now? The immense joy in her heart has so energized and emboldened her that she does not give a second thought to the possibility that the villagers may laugh themselves silly to see her, a social reject, trying to evangelise them! She does not care two cents what they might think! She goes forth and evangelise all the same. See what the joy from this encounter with Christ does to her: she abandons her (now relatively less) important daily chore of fetching spring water from the village well, and commits herself to the far greater apostolic mission of bearing witness to Christ in the village. And John testifies to the shocking fruit of her joyous zeal: many believe in Jesus because of her testimony (v.39).
There is something about this joy bursting forth from a deep encounter with Christ that defies capture. So overtaken by this joy, the Samaritan woman has no concern for the possibility of Jesus’ male (“officially appointed”) disciples being jealous of her evangelizing work for the Lord. Her evangelizing work is part of the “divine necessary” anyway, who cares about the male ego to the contrary! Nor is her joy dampened by the villagers who now discount any further role for her, now that they have heard directly from the Lord himself.
But this second point, one must know, is just an affirmation of a special feature in John’s Gospel. By a unique method of the “witness motif”, John consistently portrays one character after another bringing someone to Christ (like Andrew with Peter, and Philip with Bartholomew), leaving the person with Christ, and the character is then written out of the script. This schema underscores the stunning declaration in the Prologue – that Jesus is the Word that “took flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). The Word shall speak, and the Word shall be heard. He must increase; we must decrease. So the woman too, joyfully plays the role of a conduit, the nexus that brings others to the “Living Water” of Christ’s Grace. It is the same grace that catechumens are preparing to receive in sacramental fullness at the Easter Vigil.
We cannot help but imagine the joy she brings to the villagers for introducing the Saviour to them. Imagine the excitement and the contagious smiles all around an otherwise sleepy village. So Pope Francis is fond of applauding the “sowers of smiles”, for whoever and wherever they are, they proclaim the Gospel and bring joy.
In sum, the narrative in John 4 tells of Jesus building on a Samaritan woman’s curiosity (a searching catechumen?) in order to elicit her conversion and she in turn becoming a conduit for the spread of Christ’s message to a village. Behind all this is the fact that John provides the historical record that Jesus goes on to acknowledge the trail-blazing and fruitful work of this woman and, for our instruction, calls on his male disciples to set aside their prejudice against women. For the good of the community and kingdom-advancement, we are to let God-given talents emerge. Put away our jealousy and prejudice. The joy of women in Christ is woven into the “divine-necessary”. Heartily we listen. Joyfully we accept. Gratefully we give thanks.
NOTES:
- This blog crashed recently. Restoration is still underway. Our apology for missing features and irregular posting.
- The four paintings above by Jacek Malczewski combine Jesus’ time and ours. Jesus carrying a traveling hat and a walking cane, not the usual Israelite staff, suggests contemporary relevance of his message. The woman’s exposure of arms and necklines at Jacob’s Well at noon may allude to her sexual precocity, but Jesus looking at the viewers instead of at the woman suggests our own needs for sin-reflection rather than finger-pointing. The four variations invite deeper reflection on the woman – tired, her curiosity roused, staring into the well, contemplating, recognizing something important. Is she ready to do something positive for a change? Are we?
Copyright © Dr. Jeffrey & Angie Goh, March 2023. All rights reserved.
To comment, email jeffangiegoh@gmail.com.
