In John Powell’s 1975 book, Why Am I
Afraid to Tell You Who I Am?, he shares a story about a student he is
trying to get to know better, but refuses to open up to him beyond what he sees
in the classroom. Despite his best
effort the student refuses to budge.
Finally, one day he asks the student, “Why are you afraid to tell me who
you are?” The student replies, “Why am I
afraid to tell you who I am? If I tell
you who I am . . . my joys and fears . . . my dreams and hopes . . . my
strengths and weakness . . . all that I am, and you don’t like it . . . what do
I have left?”
Powell’s book explores the reasons
behind why we human beings are so reluctant to connect to one another . . . why
we are scared to be open and completely honest with each other . . . to let
people see us for who we really are . . . the “real” person. In his research he reveals that a big part of
that reluctance comes from insecurity that we are not good enough, worthy
enough . . . that we are not worthy to be loved as we are. Because of this he states that we wear masks
that we hide behind or play games of being something that we are not.
It is this insecurity about one’s
worthiness and lovability that we see played out in our reading this morning .
. . the woman at the well. As Jesus and
his disciples are journeying, they pause near a community well, where he sends
them off to find food to eat. After they
have left, Jesus sits by the well to rest.
Soon a woman, a Samaritan, comes to the well to draw water. Jesus asks her to give him a drink. This catches the woman off-guard. Surely Jesus knows that she is a
Samaritan. Jews and Samaritans do not
associate with one another . . . they are not the best of friends. But here is Jesus—a Jew, asking the woman—a
Samaritan, for a drink of water. She
wants to know with what gumption he has to ask such a request.
Jesus responds, “If you knew the
gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him
and he would have given you living water.”
If you knew . . .
What follows next is an interchange
between the two. The woman questions
Jesus’ sanity in his answer as he has nothing to draw water from the well. Who does he think he is making such
statements? Jesus tells her it is not
that sort of water . . . it is spiritual water, living water . . . drink of it
and you’ll never thirst again. The woman
asks for the water, but Jesus tells her she must go and get her husband. She
replies that she has no husband. That is
right, says Jesus . . . in fact you have been married five times and are living
with someone now who is not your husband.
The woman is impressed and senses that there is something different
about this man. The two of them bounce
some theological differences back and forth, but both agree that the Messiah is
soon to come. Jesus answers, “I who
speak to you am he.”
With that the woman realizes who Jesus
is . . . all the bells and whistles were going off in her head and heart. At the same time the disciples return and see
the encounter between the two. They see
Jesus talking to a woman, a Samaritan woman . . . but they say nothing about
the social mores that Jesus is breaking.
Silently the woman returned to her village.
What were the social mores Jesus
broke? Obviously, the fact that he
talked to a woman . . . and, add to it the fact that she was a Samaritan
woman. Samaritans were not high on the
list of people deserving acknowledgement or respect. Add to it that the woman had a past that made
her the brunt of much gossip and talk in the village . . . a past she was not
proud of. From the reaction of the
disciples, Jesus had done something that they did not approve of. Jesus knew.
Jesus knew, but he accepted the woman .
. . accepted her as she was. He saw
behind her bravado . . . behind her masks, and he welcomed her. He did exactly what he had been teaching his
disciples to do, and in the rest of the story we hear Jesus reprimand them for
failing to see. The woman, the Samaritan
woman with all she was—good and bad, was worthy of God’s love . . . worthy of
her place in God’s family.
Surprisingly this story should hit close
to all of our hearts because we all have our insecurities about who we really
are. We all wonder about our worthiness
before God and others. We all wear masks
and play games to protect ourselves . . . just in case, who we really are is
not good enough to be loved and respected.
As we stand before others . . . as we stand before God . . . we
proclaim, “If you knew . . .” What we
are really saying is that if God or anyone really knew who we were they would
not love or want us.
Yet, we learn in this story that Jesus
shows us that “if we knew” . . . well, it would be a completely different
encounter. If we knew that God loves us
for who we are created to be . . . accepts us for who we are with our strengths
and weaknesses . . . our good and bad . . . we would jump at the opportunity to
enter into intimacy with God. If we knew
we would throw down our masks, quit playing our games, and enter into
relationship with God. In the story this
is what Jesus says to the woman at the well, “If you knew . . .”
I think that most of us must have
discovered it at some point in our lives as we are sitting here this
morning. At some point we discovered
that God loves us for who we are . . . accepts us for who we are . . . that in
fact, God desires us. We realized that
God loves us for who we are and not for who we project to the world that we
are. We discover that we are worthy . .
. that we are loved . . . and, we believe it.
We enter into intimacy and relationship with the Holy.
This story is a powerful witness to the
followers of Jesus. It was meant to be
for his disciples, but they could not see beyond the world’s values of love and
worthiness. Let us not be like the
disciples, let us see the power in the story.
Let us not forget our own encounter with the Holy in our lives when we
suddenly knew . . . knew that we were loved, valued, and had a rightful place
in God’s family.
During the season of Lent as we examine
those things that block our relationship with God and others, this story stands
as a witness to those moments in our lives where we allow our masks and games
to hinder our growth as a child of God.
Let us set aside our masks . . . let us quit playing our games . . .
and, let us know the love of God and others.
Let us live up to our motto of “all are welcome” and open our arms to
all of God’s children wherever we encounter them. This is kingdom building.
As Jesus sat at the well, he opened the
world to God’s love as he spoke to a woman he wasn’t supposed to even
acknowledge. He understood where love
and respect could go. The woman returned
to her village and told the people of what she had encountered . . . how she
was received . . . if they only knew, she said.
And they went . . . and believed.
Amen.
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