Sunday, February 24, 2008
From AscensionNYC
Third Sunday in Lent
by Liz Hill
Exodus 17:1-7
Psalm 95
Romans 5:1-11
John 4:5-42
Today's Gospel seems to be a hodgepodge. Journeying through Samaria, Jesus rests by a well while the disciples go to buy food. Along comes a Samaritan woman who, like Chaucer's Wife of Bath, has had five husbands. Since Jews and Samaritans did not fraternize, let alone share drinking vessels, she is flabbergasted at his request for a drink of water. Then follows the well-known "water of life" conversation, interrupted by the return of the disciples, who, although astonished to find him conversing with a woman, say nothing. And then, after all their trouble to get food, Jesus refuses to eat! Then he drops a metaphorical but none-too-subtle hint that they get to work "harvesting." Re-enter the Samaritan woman with a band of her compatriots, many of whom acknowledge Jesus as "Savior." So ends the play.
Although the metaphor of "the water of life" is clear, as it was not at first to the woman, the statement about worshipping the Father "in spirit and in truth" is puzzling. It seems so very abstract and theoretical, even downright sterile. Our society tends to think of "spirit" in opposition to "matter." "God is a spirit," says Christ, who himself, being incarnate, is made of matter. The Greek word translated throughout this passage as "spirit" is pneuma, which means "breath," the "breath of life," or "a living being." There is no connotation here of hostility to matter.
God by definition is truth, and if He is also a spirit, isn't this phrase redundant? Again we consult the Greek dictionary. Alethea means more than a true proposition, such as 2+1=3. It means reality, as opposed to appearance. It is something genuine, something coming to fulfillment. In his translation of this text, J.B. Phillips renders alethea as "reality."
Our Lord tells the woman that where we worship is irrelevant: the important thing is how we worship. As living beings we worship a living being in reality, in the process of coming to fulfillment. Although essential to life everywhere, water is held more precious, perhaps, in a dry country than in our temperate climate. A traditional term for distress of the soul is "aridity," a state of feeling like parched and barren land. The cure is the living water. But we cannot regard this as a simple solution. We are living beings, subject to change, and coming to, but not yet arriving at, fulfillment. We thirst for the water of life, and God will provide it. But how, when, under what circumstances, he alone determines.
Exodus 17:1-7
Psalm 95
Romans 5:1-11
John 4:5-42
Today's Gospel seems to be a hodgepodge. Journeying through Samaria, Jesus rests by a well while the disciples go to buy food. Along comes a Samaritan woman who, like Chaucer's Wife of Bath, has had five husbands. Since Jews and Samaritans did not fraternize, let alone share drinking vessels, she is flabbergasted at his request for a drink of water. Then follows the well-known "water of life" conversation, interrupted by the return of the disciples, who, although astonished to find him conversing with a woman, say nothing. And then, after all their trouble to get food, Jesus refuses to eat! Then he drops a metaphorical but none-too-subtle hint that they get to work "harvesting." Re-enter the Samaritan woman with a band of her compatriots, many of whom acknowledge Jesus as "Savior." So ends the play.
Although the metaphor of "the water of life" is clear, as it was not at first to the woman, the statement about worshipping the Father "in spirit and in truth" is puzzling. It seems so very abstract and theoretical, even downright sterile. Our society tends to think of "spirit" in opposition to "matter." "God is a spirit," says Christ, who himself, being incarnate, is made of matter. The Greek word translated throughout this passage as "spirit" is pneuma, which means "breath," the "breath of life," or "a living being." There is no connotation here of hostility to matter.
God by definition is truth, and if He is also a spirit, isn't this phrase redundant? Again we consult the Greek dictionary. Alethea means more than a true proposition, such as 2+1=3. It means reality, as opposed to appearance. It is something genuine, something coming to fulfillment. In his translation of this text, J.B. Phillips renders alethea as "reality."
Our Lord tells the woman that where we worship is irrelevant: the important thing is how we worship. As living beings we worship a living being in reality, in the process of coming to fulfillment. Although essential to life everywhere, water is held more precious, perhaps, in a dry country than in our temperate climate. A traditional term for distress of the soul is "aridity," a state of feeling like parched and barren land. The cure is the living water. But we cannot regard this as a simple solution. We are living beings, subject to change, and coming to, but not yet arriving at, fulfillment. We thirst for the water of life, and God will provide it. But how, when, under what circumstances, he alone determines.
