The Rev. Sharon Hare ~ March 27, 2011
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“SPECIAL LADY"    

I am different since that day.  The shell that I had built around myself for protection was shattered.  My sharp tongue and quick wit was my trademark.  Somehow it attracted men — perhaps they thought they could tame me — and it frightened women — so much the better; even I got tired of sparring with their endless taunting.  I guess they thought their men weren’t safe around me.  That’s why I always went to Jacob’s well at noon; it was easier to go after the women of Sychar had drawn their water in the cool hours of the morning.  Yes, it hurt to be shunned, but I never let myself think about it. I convinced myself that I enjoyed the solitary walk to the well, but to be honest what I really wanted was a woman friend to laugh and chatter with as we made our way to the well.  Oh my, how honest I am being with you. On that fateful day I had my armor intact.

It was around noon.  The sun was particularly hot that day; we had been having an unusual hot spell for that time of year.  I was looking forward to a long cool drink from the well when I spotted the man sitting on the ledge of the well.  I could tell by his dress that he was a Jew.  Jews never talk to Samaritans. They call us dogs, and consider us unclean. 

So you can imagine how surprised I was when he asked me for a cup of water.  I called him on it immediately, not only was he talking to a Samaritan but to a woman as well. I wanted him to know that I wasn’t just a pretty face; I was savvy as well, and he wasn’t going to put anything over on me.  But his next words got my attention and made me look him full in the face.  He said that if I had known who was asking me for water, I would have asked him for a drink and he would have given me living water.  I had no idea what he was talking about, so I decided  to poke a little fun at him by pointing out that the only one who had a bucket to reach the depth of the well was me. So how in the world could he give me this living water?

At that point the conversation took a different turn.  He had my full attention when he said that the water from the well would only satisfy people for a short time until they became thirsty again, but the water he had to give would end people’s thirst.  It sounded ridiculous, but at the same time my heart was quickened and I wanted to know more. But old habits die hard, they say — and I resorted to my quick wit once again — and I asked for the water he had to give so that I wouldn’t have to keep coming to the well to draw water.  My heart knew that he meant something more, something different, but that protective shell of mine was only starting to crack.

He surprised me by asking me to go and get my husband.  It was as if he had exposed my deepest darkest secret — even though the whole village already knew it — although most of them had probably lost count of my failures.

I don’t know why I just didn’t leave — but I found myself admitting that I did not have a husband.  He looked into my eyes and he said you are right when you say you have no husband.  In fact you have had five husbands (Jewish law allows for three) and the man you live with now is not even your husband.  He never took his eyes from mine. I saw in his face no condemnation.  He was just stating facts.  I was knocked off center — and I was literally speechless. Here was a man who somehow knew my failures and was not condemning me but bragging on me for being honest.  He didn’t dwell on the bad in me but built up what he saw that was good.  But oh boy, the truth can hurt sometimes.  And even though I did not see anger or revulsion in his face I experienced in that moment the full impact of my actions, not only on myself, but on the many people my actions had hurt.  It had been years since I had even thought of going to the temple or bowing my head in prayer. 

After giving myself a moment to recover I tried to change the subject to something that would interest him and get me off the hook.  I figured he was a Rabbi, so I thought I would meet him on his own ground and talk about religion; the differences in our religions that should have thrown him off tract.   So I say, “We Samaritans worship God on Mount Gerazim, but Jews say to worship properly you must be in Jerusalem — now what do you say?”  But he did not play along.  In essence he said to me that the place of worship is not as important as the integrity you bring to worship.  "If you want to talk about religion that is fine" he said, "but the most important subject in religion is you."  And when he said this he called me “special lady”.  With those two words he dismantled the shell that I had thought protected me from the judgment of others for so very long.  This man looked into my soul and called me “special lady.”  I found myself transformed and truly wanting to know more and I asked him about the coming of the Messiah, and he said that he was the Messiah!

I believed with every fiber of my being. I remember that my body began to tremble. Later while Jesus taught in Sychar his disciples told me that I was the first person to whom he had revealed his true identity.  Imagine, me, a lost woman, receiving the good news, the glorious news of the Messiah present amongst us.

His disciples came back at that moment; you should have seen their faces.  In their faces I saw condemnation — surprise — revulsion.  But they didn’t say a word. One look from him and they were silent.

I came to the well, seeking some water to meet my daily need, but what I received was truly living water that saved my life and gave me purpose.  I literally ran back to the village, I was a new person. Shame and the hostility that goes with it were lifted from my body, my heart, my soul.  I told everyone I had met the Messiah, and that he knew all about me, and that he had living water to give to those who were thirsty, and if they hurried he was still at the well. And they believed me and even more importantly they believed him.  My Jesus, my Messiah, my Lord.  He stayed for two days and the whole village listened to him as he taught, as he healed, as he loved us into new life.

The man he told me that I was living with, he also listened to the Messiah and he too was transformed and made whole. His wife welcomed him home and his children were nurtured by his love.  I hear he became the great-grandfather of many. 

I became one of the Jesus' followers, one of the women who traveled with him.  I always volunteer to go to the well and get water for all the disciples and to share the good news with the women who gathered at the well with me each morning. I just can’t keep quiet about what happened to me and what I have seen happen to all those who have been transformed by a relationship with Jesus.  Yes, my friend, what I have is a relationship with Jesus, a holy relationship, which transforms darkness, shame, and despair in hope and unimaginable joy.  I tell the story wherever I go and some of have ears to hear!