Sermon for the Third Sunday in Lent, Year A (3-8-26)

This week the world has been watching another spiral of violence continue to unfold in the Middle East. Airstrikes by Israel, coordinated with the United States seemingly at the current President's behest, have hit targets across Iran, while Iranian missiles and drones have struck back across the region. The conflict has already killed more than thirteen hundred people and threatens to expand even further.

And as always happens in moments like this, the language of division becomes louder. Nations talk about enemies. Leaders talk about domination and surrender. Communities are told who they are supposed to hate. But beneath the rhetoric are ordinary people—families in Tehran, Jerusalem, and across the region—who will bear the real cost of those divisions.

Moments like this remind us how easily the world organizes itself around hostility: us and them, friend and enemy, neighbor and threat. And that's why today’s Gospel feels so strikingly relevant.

John tells us that Jesus is traveling through Samaria when he stops at a well outside the town of Sychar. It’s noon—the heat of the day—and a Samaritan woman comes to draw water.

Immediately, we're meant to notice the social barriers propping up this scene.

First, there's the ethnic and religious barrier between Jews and Samaritans. The hostility between these two groups ran deep—centuries deep. Jews saw Samaritans as religious traitors who had corrupted the faith. Samaritans saw Jews as arrogant and exclusionary. And the two groups avoided one another whenever possible.

Second, there's the barrier of gender. In that culture, it was very unlikely that a Jewish rabbi would publicly initiate a conversation with a woman, especially a woman he did not know.

Third, there's the barrier of social reputation. We soon learn that this woman’s life story is a bit... complex. She's had five husbands, and the man she lives with now is not her husband. Many scholars believe this is why she comes to the well at noon—avoiding the other women who would have gathered earlier in the cooler morning hours. And also hopefully avoiding the judgement as well.

So here we have three dividing lines: ethnic hostility, gender norms, and moral stigma. And Jesus crosses every single one of them.

He begins with a simple request: “Give me a drink.” It may seem like a small moment, but it is revolutionary. By asking for water, Jesus acknowledges this woman's dignity. He places himself in a position of need before someone society has labeled as less than. And the woman is stunned. “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” In other words: You’re not supposed to talk to me. But Jesus is not interested in maintaining those boundaries. Instead, he begins speaking about something deeper—“living water,” the kind of water that quenches a deeper thirst.

At first she misunderstands him, thinking he is talking about actual water. But Jesus is speaking about something else. Something beyond. The very life of God flowing into the human soul. Then the conversation becomes personal. Jesus reveals that he knows her story—her broken relationships, her complicated life. But notice what he does not do. He does not condemn her. He does not shame her. He simply tells the truth and calls her into new life.

Grace meets her exactly where she is. And something begins to change.

The woman who arrived at the well carrying shame suddenly becomes the first evangelist in the Gospel of John. She runs back to the town and tells everyone, “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?”

“Come and see.”

Those three words ignite something in the town. Because of her testimony, many Samaritans come to meet Jesus themselves. The woman who once avoided the community becomes the very bridge between her neighbors and Christ. And that is often how the kingdom of God works. The people society overlooks are the very people God chooses to carry the good news.

The disciples return and are shocked to see Jesus speaking with this woman. They cannot imagine why he would be having this conversation. And with a Samaritan, no less! Yet while they are still confused, she is already proclaiming the Messiah. The outsider becomes the witness. And the living water begins to flow far beyond the well.

The boundaries Jesus crossed that day are not ancient history. They are still very much alive in our world. Political leaders still divide people into camps of loyalty and hostility. Nations still organize themselves around fear of the other. But the Gospel refuses to accept those divisions as final.

Jesus shows us another way: the way of meeting people at the well. The way of conversation instead of suspicion. The way of grace instead of judgment. Because sometimes the people we have been taught to fear are the very people through whom God chooses to work. And sometimes the most faithful thing a Christian can do in a divided world is refuse to let hatred have the final word.

Actually, I think the most faithful thing a follower of Christ can do in a time like this, is first to remember that we are called to seek and serve that same Christ in all people. Maybe especially our enemies. And I don't know about you, but I will definitely be needing God's help to do that.

So, instead of taking our cue from the powers and principalities of this world, we take a breath and walk to the well. We speak. We listen. And we discover that the living water of God flows across every line the world tries to draw.

Amen.