Today's reading in the lectionary involved Jesus meeting the Samaritan woman at the well. She was one of THOSE Samaritans, those people who worship God differently than I do, therefore they are wrong. She lived a blasphemous life, not like me, "nearly perfect, in every way." Do you KNOW how many men she had been with? How many children she had with all those men? And, she was not even married to the one she lived with?.... well, hide the chickens, and keep your children off the street.
We all know people like this, the sleazebag, the sinner, the woman of multiple men. We can't ever imagine being like that. Why, she was horrible.
Yet, when the Scriptures were passed from God's mind to paper for our use, this woman was remembered. Why? Out of all the women Jesus encountered in his ministry, surely there is someone more worthy of our time than this Jezebel. I wouldn't let her eat at my table.
But I'm thinking like one of us. I'm not thinking like Jesus. "His thoughts are not our thoughts, his ways are not our ways." I believe that is a very good thing, perhaps the best thing. His ways are so far beyond what we are able to come up with ourselves. When He sat at the well, and asked for a drink, this Jew, this man, this stranger --He knew that , according to worldly standards, He was asking for trouble. He had no business taking anything from her unclean hand, this Samaritan woman, who didn't even know the place where God lives. Just being seen in public alone with her would have had tongues wagging.
I often wonder, what was the look on His face that day , when Jesus offered her Living Water. Did He have an understanding, loving look in his eye, one she had so seldom seen? Did she feel that she was in the presence of God Himself? Why didn't she back away and run off? They entered into a long conversation, a discourse on worship, spirit, and her not-so-private life. A note in my Orthodox Bible says that Samaritans didn't believe there were any more prophets after Moses, and yet, she calls him a prophet. At this point, I think He was starting to make her a little nervous.
She then says, "I know that Messiah is coming. When He comes, He will tell us all things." What was she thinking He would say? Was she expecting the answer she got?
Jesus said to her," I who speak to you am He."
At that point, I'm sure she dropped her water jug, and stood there with her mouth hanging open. Here is the one that they, Samaritan and Jew, had been waiting for, the One who would save them. What happened next? Did they embrace? Did she fall in prostration before Him? Did He lift her up and pray with her? John 4:28 says that she left her waterpot, went to find her friends and called to them, "Come, see a Man who told me all things that I ever did. Could this be the Christ?"
They came to talk with Jesus and many became believers because of this.
They knew they were taking a chance. If Jesus, a complete stranger, could tell this woman ( she is called St. Photini in the Church) everything she had done, would He do the same to them? Would you want all your neighbors to hear about your sins, right out there in public? What was it about her that encouraged them to approach this Jewish stranger? Maybe they saw a lightness about her, the lightness of confession, the lightness of forgiveness, the lightness of knowing Christ. They wanted what this woman had, and suddenly, they didn't care about the cost. To be offered Living Water, something that would cure their thirst, and give them everlasting life, that must have been far beyond their dry, desert dreams.
I want to drink deeply of His cup. I want that living water to wash over me, not just my feet, but the whole shebang of me. I want Him to look at me, face to face, deeply, with forgiveness, lightness, and wholeness. I yearn for that kiss of peace. My sins are no better or worse than St. Photini's, no matter how I line them up. I know I will be forgiven, as she was. I know Jesus will do this for me, unworthy as I am, because He loves us, however we come to Him.
Psalm 14
O Lord, who shall dwell in Your tabernacle?
Who shall live in Your holy mountain?
He who walks blamelessly, and works righteousness,
And speaks truth in his heart.
Who does not deceive with his tongue,
Neither does evil to his neighbor;
And does not find fault with those nearest him.
He disdains those who do evil in his presence,
But he holds in honor those who fear the Lord;
He swears an oath to his neighbor and does not set it aside.
And he does not lend his money at interest,
And he does not take a bribe against the innocent.
He who does these things shall never be shaken.
Dianne, thirsting for Christ
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
Death of a Sinner, How Do We React?
Fresh off the heels of a wonderful Holy Week, Pascha, and Bright Week (Bright Week follows Pascha-Easter in the Orthodox world, it's the greatest event in the history of the world, we celebrate it for a week), we go to bed on Sunday evening with the news of Osama bin Laden's death. Wow.
We watched in horror as his plan of terror unfolded before our eyes on Sept. 11. I remember sitting in my kitchen listening to Katie Couric talk to Matt Lauer about the first airplane when the second one hit. I was stunned, as was every person watching or listening that day. We watched as the people scrambled out of the buildings, those who could. We watched people jumping from high floors to their deaths, we saw the towers fall, one after the other. We watched firefighters and police officers going INTO the burning buildings. It was unspeakable horror. Then the news of the plane into the side of the Pentagon, and then the jet that went down in PA, filled with people who had more courage that day than all the rest of their lives combined. The shock and grief we have carried around in our hearts for years, for some it will never go away.
I also have a history in my family of my father's untimely death in 1981 in a single engine plane crash, cause never determined. The other pilot, an Indiana state policeman, who lived, was quoted as giving several different reasons why the plane crashed, most of which blamed my father, easy to do when the other guy is dead and can't answer you. I had the occasion once of meeting his wife at a National Guard dinner with Bill when I was pregnant with Bailey. I literally accosted her in the hallway and screamed anger and vitriol at her. I was still so distraught at that time, so many years later, from the event. I felt justified in letting her know how I felt about her lousy husband. At the time it felt great, I could finally unload. Later, it just lay in front of me, a mashed-up mess of emotions, anger, guilt, shame, pain, hatred. It still didn't bring back my daddy.
If I met that man now, I probably would cry, I would probably be angry. I would tell him about my family, my husband, my children, my niece, how they never knew my dad. I would walk away from him. Feelings I have buried under layers of belly fat would come to the surface, as they are right now, and tears would flow. I would hope that he would express some remorse, some regret, something.....
I never knew how he felt about the crash, he has never contacted me. He never spoke to my mother.
I know I should forgive him, I know I should let it go. It was 30 years ago, for criminy's sake. Mostly my feelings for him are dismissal, leave me alone, go away, I hate you.
So, I can understand the cheering crowds, the grieving widows, the broken mothers and fathers, the children who are feeling vengence, justice, and power this morning. Their wounds have been torn wide open by this news. I'm sure that they are feeling 10,000 feelings this morning. Most are stunned, shocked, grieved, confused, rejoicing, cheering,,,,,
I have no scripture to throw at this... sometimes just letting someone else "be" is the best I can do for them.
Dianne, Bob's little girl
We watched in horror as his plan of terror unfolded before our eyes on Sept. 11. I remember sitting in my kitchen listening to Katie Couric talk to Matt Lauer about the first airplane when the second one hit. I was stunned, as was every person watching or listening that day. We watched as the people scrambled out of the buildings, those who could. We watched people jumping from high floors to their deaths, we saw the towers fall, one after the other. We watched firefighters and police officers going INTO the burning buildings. It was unspeakable horror. Then the news of the plane into the side of the Pentagon, and then the jet that went down in PA, filled with people who had more courage that day than all the rest of their lives combined. The shock and grief we have carried around in our hearts for years, for some it will never go away.
I also have a history in my family of my father's untimely death in 1981 in a single engine plane crash, cause never determined. The other pilot, an Indiana state policeman, who lived, was quoted as giving several different reasons why the plane crashed, most of which blamed my father, easy to do when the other guy is dead and can't answer you. I had the occasion once of meeting his wife at a National Guard dinner with Bill when I was pregnant with Bailey. I literally accosted her in the hallway and screamed anger and vitriol at her. I was still so distraught at that time, so many years later, from the event. I felt justified in letting her know how I felt about her lousy husband. At the time it felt great, I could finally unload. Later, it just lay in front of me, a mashed-up mess of emotions, anger, guilt, shame, pain, hatred. It still didn't bring back my daddy.
If I met that man now, I probably would cry, I would probably be angry. I would tell him about my family, my husband, my children, my niece, how they never knew my dad. I would walk away from him. Feelings I have buried under layers of belly fat would come to the surface, as they are right now, and tears would flow. I would hope that he would express some remorse, some regret, something.....
I never knew how he felt about the crash, he has never contacted me. He never spoke to my mother.
I know I should forgive him, I know I should let it go. It was 30 years ago, for criminy's sake. Mostly my feelings for him are dismissal, leave me alone, go away, I hate you.
So, I can understand the cheering crowds, the grieving widows, the broken mothers and fathers, the children who are feeling vengence, justice, and power this morning. Their wounds have been torn wide open by this news. I'm sure that they are feeling 10,000 feelings this morning. Most are stunned, shocked, grieved, confused, rejoicing, cheering,,,,,
I have no scripture to throw at this... sometimes just letting someone else "be" is the best I can do for them.
Dianne, Bob's little girl
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