The Rev. Calvon T.Jones, Assistant Minister, the Memorial Church of Harvard University. File photo by Jeffrey Blackwell/Memorial Church Communications
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By the Rev. Calvon T. Jones
Assistant Minister
Memorial Church of Harvard University
(The following is a transcript of the service audio)
Pray with me. Now, let the words of my mouth, the meditation of my heart be acceptable in thy sight, O God, my rock and my redeemer. Amen. I would like to place a tag upon the gospel reading, for it constitutes the context from which we will attempt to teach and preach divine and uncomfortable routes, divine and uncomfortable routes. My grandfather was familiar with uncomfortable routes. His life was filled with many unexpected turns or U-turns, if I may say, hills and exits. His life was filled with not following the directions of the GPS, his life was filled with not following the directions and instructions on maps. My grandfather was familiar with divine routes. He was known for going out of his way in order to help others. It was not a day that went by that I, along with his other grandchildren, could find him going out of his way. I remember one day we were going to get ice cream and my grandfather was going to take us to an amusement park. I love my grandpa, he just knew how to have fun with us.
We stopped at the grocery store and there was an older woman who happened to be homeless. She was in the grocery line and she did not have enough money to pay for her groceries. We kids were sitting in the line smiling because we know we're about to go to the amusement park. I had already decided on which ride I was going to get on, I just knew I was ready for The Incredible Hulk. I knew that I was ready to show out in front of all of my cousins that I could get on the most terrifying rollercoaster. But what did my grandfather do? He went out of his way, divine, uncomfortable routes. He paid for this lady's groceries, asked her if she needed anything to eat, asked her did she have anything at home. He called his wife, my grandmother, and asked her to prepare the best meal, and invited this woman to our house. I have to admit, I was mighty upset. I was ready for The Incredible Hulk.
However, Grandfather was used to divine and uncomfortable routes, he was used to going out of his way to help others. He saw this woman, he affirmed this woman's humanity and dignity. You could often find my grandfather helping those who were sick, unemployed, hurting, or widowed. Grandfather was known for going out of his way. One more memory that I must share with you. One day we were driving into town and we saw a familiar face, a young lady who worked at our town's bank. She was walking with bags and she had her lunchbox. Grandfather stopped, divine routes, and asked her, "Do you need a ride to work?" I'm sitting over there like, "Grandfather, I need to get to school." He asked her, "How often do you walk to work?" She said, "Every morning." She walked four hours every morning in order to get to work. She was a single mother who was doing her best to provide for her four kids.
You all know what I'm about to say. He went out of the way. Grandfather took an uncomfortable and divine route. He told the lady that he would pick her up and take her home every day. Now, I was sitting over there like, "Okay, Grandfather, I know you love the Lord. I know you have love, but are you serious right now?" My grandfather picked this woman up every day and took her home, and then he met with others from the church and other men in the town in order to brainstorm ways on how to get her a car. My grandfather showed me what it meant to sometimes take uncomfortable and divine routes. Grandpa was known for taking uncomfortable routes. Church, change and transformation are born on the most uncomfortable routes. Healing and love are felt most on the curvy roads, the dirt roads, the narrow roads, the roads that are full of bumps, full of potholes, the roads that others do not want to take. Compassion and care are felt most on the rugged paths that many do not want to travel. Hospitality and affirmation are given on the roundabouts, on the journeys of discomfort.
Dreams are born in the most uncomfortable places. Hope and restoration arise upon the most treacherous roads. Vision and clarity are discovered on voyages that most avoid. The uncomfortable routes just may be where God calls us. As we journey with Christ to Jerusalem, God may be calling us to go out of our way. God may be challenging us to take a risk to venture out into the unknown, to venture out into places that we have never gone before. Sometimes beloved, God directs us or uses circumstances to compel us to go where we ordinarily would not desire to go. Maybe, just maybe, God is calling us into our own Samaria. In the text this morning, we find a Jesus who has a conversation with the Jewish ruler, Nicodemus. Prior to this chapter, He met with Nicodemus and shares with Nicodemus that you can be born again, that you can experience life anew. He shares with Nicodemus the love of God, He explains that God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten son that who so ever believes on Him would not perish but have everlasting life.
Nicodemus and so many others' lives are changed prior to this chapter. Jesus and His disciples were also in Jerusalem, not just to meet Nicodemus, but they were there for the Passover. And it is important to note here that John takes time to highlight that Jesus is a Jew. This is a critical corrective to the interpretations of John that are often used to justify antisemitism. A huge misinterpretation of Jesus in John is that He is condemning Jews. That's not the case. Rather, Jesus, a practicing Jew, is engaged in dialogue with His fellow religious brothers and sisters and authorities about scripture and ministry. Jesus is not condemning the Jews, but He's actually challenging them to a higher place of love and radical hospitality. Jesus has been in Jerusalem for the Passover. Now, His disciples, after ministering to Nicodemus and other people, they are heading to Galilee. However, Jesus says to His disciples, "I must take an uncomfortable route. I must go through Samaria. I had to go through Samaria." Had, in the Greek, is the word διά, which almost means a divine compulsion or divine necessity.
In other words, Jesus is saying, "It is necessary that I take this uncomfortable route. It is necessary that I go to Samaria." Those of you all who are familiar with the map of ancient Palestine may be aware that this necessity was not geographically right. This was not a geographical necessity. The distance between Jerusalem and Galilee was about 40 miles, and would've taken four days walking 8 to 12 miles a day. There were two other possible routes to travel, between northern and southern regions of Palestine, either along the coast of the Mediterranean Sea or along the Jordan River Valley. Going through Samaria was not a geographical necessity. It would take days if not weeks to get there. It would take an even longer time. But Jesus said, "I must take this uncomfortable route." In addition to the length of time that it would take to get there, the Samaritans and the Jews had a complex history.
Theologian Karoline Lewis writes; "At the time of Jesus, the rift between the Jews and the Samaritans dated back to the split of the northern and southern kingdoms of Israel, and the Assyrian conquest of Israel in 722 Before Common Era. This conflict was strong." This was a way out of the way. This was going way out of the way, and culturally, religiously and ethnically, most Jews would not be in the region of Samaria. But Jesus said, "I must go through this uncomfortable route." This route was uncomfortable but needed. Jesus needed to go where he most was needed. He needed to go where most would not go, He needed to go where those were living on the margins. It was a theological necessity to meet this woman, an uncomfortable route to meet this woman, this woman who represents those who have been historically relegated to the margins of society, this woman who represents the historical oppression of women, this woman who is tragically misrepresented, she has no name.
She is the object of grave misunderstanding, her identity is not registered at all, her existence is known to someone else or some other thing. This woman is not seen. And in the words of Ralph Ellison, "I am invisible because people refuse to see me." Jesus had to go through this uncomfortable route to meet this woman. This woman who is nameless symbolizes women and other marginalized groups all over this world. She represents the history of women, the history of women are inscribed upon her flesh, women who work just as hard as men but did not receive the same pay, women who were treated as inferior to men because of their biology, women who had to navigate sexism and patriarchy and violence, women who had to survive and fight for their dignity. Jesus had to go an uncomfortable route to meet this woman, who represents women who until recently were included as authoritative interpreters of the Bible, women who had to fight for their voices to be heard, women who had to fight in order to curate spaces in the religious academic world, in order for people to hear and read their theological and biblical interpretations.
I'm talking about women who have been relegated to the margins of society, women who have had to fight against the male gaze even in the church, women who stood up to men who thought that they were only good enough to speak from the floor, women who fought to say that I am also called to preach, women who had to proclaim their humanity and dignity. Sometimes you have to go through uncomfortable routes to stand up for those who have been relegated to the margins. This woman represents women in history and Jesus, our healer, the Messiah, the liberator, the one who baffles scholars, the one who loves thugs and theologians, the one who confronts and confounds us, is called to take an uncomfortable route to find and affirm this woman. I can hear the disciples saying, "Aren't we going the wrong way? The GPS of the Global Positioning System says keep straight. We don't go that way, we don't deal with those people, we don't go in that direction."
But I can hear Jesus saying, "My GPS stands for God's Positioning System. God is directing me to meet the least of these, God is sending me this way to stand up for those who others do not want to stand for. God is calling me to love all people regardless of what you may think, regardless of what the church has done, regardless of what society has done. God's Positioning System will direct you to go places that normal people will not want to go." Jesus takes an uncomfortable route. And this young woman comes at the heat of the day and because of how society views her, you may have heard preachers preach this and have this interpretation, that because of her sinfulness, Jesus has to come her way, that because she has five husbands and the one she's living with, she's sinning. However, the story never comments on her sinfulness. Jesus never condemns her or judges her.
Most women in the 1st century Palestine had no control over their marital status. She most likely had five husbands because they divorced her or died, and she was living with a man because she had to survive, or based upon the Deuteronomy law, it most likely was a brother of her husband who died. Jesus does not come to judge her, but He simply names the condition in which she is living. He says, "May I have some water?" Jesus crosses boundaries, takes an uncomfortable route to see that this woman is God's daughter. He breaks the rules. A man who should have never been alone with the woman, a Jew who should have never been in contact with the Samaritan, a rabbi, a Jewish religious leader such as Jesus would've never been alone with the woman, but He takes an uncomfortable route. And in Karoline Lewis' book, Belonging, she writes, their mutual need brings them to Jacob's well. Jesus places His need in her hands, where need replaces judgment and love replaces suspicion.
Jesus breaks down the cultural, ethic, religious and systemic oppressions, and He sees her. Aren't you grateful for a God that sees, a God that takes other routes, a God that sees you in all your colors, a God that sees you in ways that other people don't see you? Aren't you grateful for a God who sees your divinity, who sees your character? Aren't you grateful for a God who shows up and affirms all of you? She responds, "How is it that you asked for a drink from me? You're not supposed to be dealing with me." But Jesus responds, "If you knew the gift of God and who it is that is saying this to you, 'Give me a drink', you would've asked Him and He would have given you living water." Jesus sees her, offers her hope, affirms her beyond her circumstance, offers her joy, courage, and a new reality outside of the stereotypes, customs and societal norms. This water represents life and liberation.
This water represents that this woman is not what her situation is, and Jesus tells her to bring her husband, tells her that the person you are with is not your husband, not as judgment, but as knowledge. I know you. I know what you're going through. I see where you are when others have walked past you. Jesus shows up to say, "I see you and I know you and I have an alternative reality, and that's living water." His words were not condemning like some preachers interpret this text, it was Jesus showing up in a patriarchal system, breaking down boundaries and saying that I believe that you can live too.
And in the words of Aaron Moon, this woman could be saying, "I am a woman of no distinction, of little importance. I am a woman of no reputation. You whisper as I pass by and cast judgmental glances, though you do not take the time to look at me or even get to know me. To be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known. And otherwise, what is the point of doing either one in the first place? I want to be known. I want someone to look at my face and not just see two eyes, a nose and a mouth and two ears, but to see all that I am and could be, all of my hopes, loves and fears, but that is too much to hope for, to wish for or to pray for, so I don't anymore."
"Now, I keep to myself, and by that I meant the pain that keeps me in my own private jail. The pain that has brought me here at midday at this well, to ask for a drink is no big request, but to ask it of me, a woman, unclean, ashamed, used and abused, an outcast, a failure, a disappointment, no drink passing from these hands to your lips could ever be refreshing, only condemning, as I am sure you condemn me now, but you don't."
Jesus takes the time to take an uncomfortable route to get to know her. He knows everything about her, every hope, past and future. He sees her, no hate, but love. No hate, but love. Love always wins. Love, salvation, and because He takes this uncomfortable route, this woman becomes a preacher, she becomes an evangelist. The woman that others overlook now has the power to go back into the town and she tells others about this man who knows me and sees me. Today, beloved, like Jesus, as we're in this season of Lent, Jesus calls us to take uncomfortable routes. God's Positioning System. We are called to go out of our way to help others. We tend to stay clear of difficulty and discomfort, but maybe, in this season, God is calling you to take a route that's uncomfortable.
And in the words of theologian Lewis, "Sometimes God pushes us into places we do not feel we're ready to go or want to go because we know what might happen in Samaria kinds of places. It's that place, at high noon, that shed say bright light on our own prejudices, biases, and ideologies. It's that place under the merciless sun that calls attention to all the isms from which we thought we were exempt. It's the place that calls out our privilege and our suspicions of others. Samaria exposes our fears of those people, it tells us the truth about ourselves, truths that we have worked hard to cover up, to deny, and to pretend don't exist." Beloved, maybe God's Positioning System may require a trip to your Samaria. Our nation, church, communities, can be healed if we take uncomfortable routes. May you find your Samarias, may we join in with Jesus and have conversations at wells. May we, like my grandfather, go out of the way, knowing that God is our strong salvation. What foe have we to fear in darkness and temptation? Our light and our help is near. May you take an uncomfortable route.