Sunday 24th February 2008 - Third Sunday of Lent

Last weekend I was away at the wedding of a niece, my sister’s daughter, Cara. Cara has married a young South African opera singer, Jaques Imbrailo. They are a couple with a very strong Christian faith and this came across both at the wedding and in the speeches at the reception. Jacques, who is on a young artists scheme at the Royal Opera House, was interviewed recently. The article ends with a comment that religion is clearly at the centre of Jaques’ life. Then it quoted him: ‘If singing music didn't help me to serve God, I would have to give it up. I'd definitely like to be remembered for my faith and helping to bring it to other people.’

This is not halfhearted faith – the priorities are clear. God and Jesus come first, and everything else is guided by that belief. But is the strong evangelical expression of faith always the way to bring people closer to God. Expressions of absolute certainty can sometimes feel slightly threatening. Those of a less certain faith, those who feel guilty over lives not led so clearly with Jesus at the centre, can sometimes be made to feel inadequate.

The approach many take at St Andrew’s is less up front about faith. We know that some people find faith difficult and struggle with some of the teaching of the bible and the traditions of the church. We are not a black and white church when it comes to doctrine and interpretation of scripture.

But when we turn to the readings that are chosen for these Sundays of Lent we are given a very clear message. It seems to address both these approaches with equal measure and encouragement. They are accounts of Jesus meeting people and explaining to them that faith is indeed an all or nothing affair. Our commitment to Jesus Christ must be complete. If we come to realise that Jesus truly is the Son of God; that God gave him to us to show us how he intends us to live our lives; and that Jesus died for us – then surely our lives can never be the same again. So these readings are about certainty and complete commitment. But they are also stories of human frailty; stories of vanity and failing that tell us that no one is excluded from God’s extraordinary love. They tell us that those who feel threatened or inadequate or in need will always be as much God’s concern as those who have already given their lives to Jesus Christ. And that however many times we fail, God will never give up hope in us.

Last week we had the story of Nicodemus, a leader of the elite Pharisee religious sect, who sneaked along to meet Jesus under the cover of darkness. He realised Jesus was a man sent from God, his miracles bore witness to this, but he wanted to draw him into his fold, maintaining his own status as a religious leader. But Jesus was having none of it. Jesus was God’s only son and to believe this meant Nicodemus had to let go of all his old ways and start anew. He had to born again – a description of renewal so complete that it was akin to rebirth.

This week we have the extraordinarily moving and powerful story of Jesus with the woman at the well. It is an amazingly rich and complex passage but I want to focus on our two key messages – the complete nature of true faith. And secondly God’s invitation to everyone regardless of who they are or what they have done. In our story Jesus, exhausted after a long journey, came to a well at noon. A woman was at the well drawing water. Collecting water in the midday heat was not usual practice, the implication being that she was something of an outcast.

Jesus immediately broke every rule in the book and asked the woman for a drink. Jewish people did not share anything with the Samaritans and men would not speak to women in public. And Jesus did not just limit the conversation to asking for water. He began a long discussion with her that ended up, we imagine, in changing her life forever.

With Nicodemus Jesus spoke of being reborn of water and Spirit. At the well Jesus talked to the Samaritan woman vividly of a living water, not water to drink, but nevertheless water so essential to life that we cannot live complete lives without it. Whether it is banter, repartee, or simple misunderstanding we do not know, but the woman cheekily asked Jesus to give her this water to save her ever having to come to the well again.

Jesus was not swayed and went on to reveal that he knew all the details of her decidedly messy life. The banter stopped and they began a theological discussion that culminated in Jesus laying down the challenge – the time is coming when those who worship God must worship in spirit and in truth. The implication being that no half measures are possible. And the woman began to realise that something extraordinary was taking place and ventured ‘I know that the Messiah is coming’. To which Jesus replied ‘I am he’.

Something quite amazing had happened. Jesus had chosen to reveal his identity to a Samaritan woman whose life was a shambles and a disgrace. And he made no attempt to hold her back when she rushed off with her story and revelation. At the end of the passage we discover she has effectively become a disciple, as people believed her story and in turn believed in Jesus.

So our two themes come together – God reaches out to everyone and uses the most unlikely, and seemingly unsuitable, people as his ambassadors and messengers. It is as true today as it was then. He uses you and me, and we know only too well that none of us is perfect. But as with Nicodemus, Jesus message to the woman had an edge to it. The living water promised by Jesus is not to be taken a sip at a time, just when we feel like it. We have to drink deeply of the living water of faith never to be thirsty again.

And at the very end of the story there is a further reminder of the need to come into a direct engagement with Jesus. Rather disparagingly it seems the woman was told it was no longer her testimony that gave them faith, but that of Jesus himself. And this is true for us. I can describe for you how extraordinarily beautiful is the Taj Mahal, or how it feels to walk through an IDP camp in Gulu in Northern Uganda. But you, most likely, will only fully realise the wonder of the marble embodiment of love, or the desperate gulf between our lives and those in war torn poverty in Africa when you see it with your own eyes.

And so it is with Jesus. We can gain knowledge and then faith from the words of those who already believe. We can teach each other and discover God’s work through listening and watching others. But ultimately the message of these Lent stories is the God is coming to each of us directly through Jesus Christ. We meet Jesus in the love we share as a Christian community; we meet him in the word of scripture, in our silent and spoken prayers, in the joy of worship and in the bread and wine of this holy communion service. But he is asking for more than passive acceptance. Jesus is asking each of us to drink of the living water, to accept that we are born again when we come to faith and that our lives will never be the same again.

As Jesus knew the Samaritan woman, so God knows us, completely. And he accepts us just as we are, loves us and then invites us into relationship with him, ever to worship him in spirit and in truth. It is not always easy, but the purpose of Lent is not to grind us into guilt ridden confession and abstinence. It is to remind us just how much we are loved by God, so much that we see Christ crucified. To remind us to renew our faith so that we can properly share in the amazing joy of the Easter to come.