Exodus 17:1-7, John 4:5-26; Romans 5:1-11
I remember reading a while ago that the next major world conflict might not erupt over oil, but over water. And when I thought about it, that wasn't too much of a surprise. Human beings are at least 60% water, and it needs replenishing surprisingly quickly: I found that out in Ghana a few years ago, where embarrassingly I fainted as a result of dehydration. And when the next precious drop's not in evidence, it's easy to panic, as the people of Israel did in the desert. They were used to the fertile Nile valley where flooding's more of a problem. But now everything was different, dry and dusty and desiccated. So whose fault could it be that they'd run out of water? Had to be Moses. Moses, oddly enough, didn't think so. Why complain to me? he said to them. Ask God! But it's easier to moan at a leader you can see than at the invisible God, and the grumbling was getting a menacing edge to it. So Moses took his own advice. Help! he called out to God. Your people are getting out of hand! Do something! God obliged, water came out of the dry rock, the people drank, and Moses breathed a sigh of relief - till the next time.
So there's often conflict round water: who's got it, who controls it, will there be enough for everyone, and who decides? But when there is enough water for all, it's also a gathering point. Apparently in some offices there's a water-cooler culture, where people stand around and share the gossip before the boss comes in and they scurry back to their desks. And in Palestine, in the time of Jesus, there was a well culture. All the women - who were and often still are the ones who lug heavy jars of water miles on their heads; let no one con you into thinking women are the weaker sex - would meet at the well at morning or evening, in the cool of the day, to get their supply for washing and cooking and drinking, and to pass on the latest news. Even in the cities of Samaria, everyone gathered at the local well - everyone except one woman, fetching her water in the heat of the day, either because she was fed up of hearing everyone talking about her private life, or because the others wouldn't let her come with them.
She must have been thirsty, that woman; and not only for water. For when a stranger, someone from a different culture, a different gender, a different level of education, asked her for help, thirsty for human contact, she didn't ignore him. And her thirst was quenched by Jesus in full measure: for he took her seriously as a person, talked theology with her, revealed the secret of just who he was - the first time in John's Gospel he does so! - and gave her status: for after their conversation, she was able to go back to her countrypeople, not as a supplicant, begging for acceptance, but as a free agent, offering them an encounter that could change their lives as her life had been changed.
What about us in 21st century Britain? We have plenty of water, enough to waste by leaving the tap running as we brush our teeth. In 2006 we drank more than 2000 million litres of bottled water in the UK, and it costs 10,000 times more to create the bottled version, often transported from the other side of the world, than it does to produce tap water. Evidently we are not thirsty in the same way as the Israelites in the desert, or the woman of Samaria at the well. And yet, metaphorically, we are still thirsting for the same things as she was: someone who will take our viewpoint seriously, without pulling any punches about the mistakes we may have made; someone who can show us a way to reintegrate and transform our lives and our communities. And as Christians we believe that if we can't do all these things, we know a man who can.
Yet sometimes I wonder if as Christians we are a bit protective about the Holy Spirit, that source of living water that Jesus promised and still promises to those who worship God in spirit and in truth. It's as though we believe our water is thirst-quenching, but we're not quite sure whether there's enough to go around. So, just to be on the safe side, we'll keep access restricted to kosher disciples of Jesus, those who think and behave as we do. Whether we're into evangelism, social justice or contemplation, we recognise God's Spirit in those whom we know and trust. But going by past practice, we shouldn't be surprised if we find Jesus talking to someone else we don't know, someone outside our community. And we needn't worry if we do. For the water won't run out.
Sounds good, but how can I say that so confidently? you may be wondering. After all, we're used to having only so many resources and needing to make ends meet. In a family with more than one child, I understand there's sometimes a constant jockeying for parental love: I'm Mum's favourite. You only got that because you're Daddy's little girl! In case you're wondering, if you're the only child, you run the risk of being spoiled rotten, but it can also be hard to distract your parents' attention from each other! And it can be too easy for us to transfer our family situation onto God, whom we call our father in heaven; either to preen ourselves because we are God's favoured children or, for those starved of affection in early life, to feel that God can't really love us at all.
Like the Samaritan woman talking about water, we can get mixed up between metaphor and physical reality. For our relationship with God is not the same as that with our earthly fathers and mothers, however bad or good. It is even more intimately connected with our whole experience of life. Listen to Paul trying to explain to the Christians in Rome: We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit which has been given to us. According to Paul, God's Spirit, God's living love, has been poured into our hearts already - so now, whatever life throws at us, we can get through it; because our hope in God's love for us is well founded. Why is it well founded? Because God loved us before we could do anything to please God; so it follows that nothing we get wrong, however bad, can ever make the well of God's Spirit run dry. Sometimes the Spirit may feel obviously there, the heart of our lives, and sometimes not. But God's love for us and for others doesn't depend on how we feel. It was demonstrated conclusively two thousand years ago: when Jesus died, to show us how God is prepared to share our worst experience; and when God raised Jesus to new life, to show us that physical death is not the end. So if life seems dry, and you feel thirsty for God's presence, ask: and you will receive all you need to quench your thirst.