The Third Sunday in Lent, Year A, Grace Church, Spring Hill, March 8, 2026

“A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, ‘Give me a drink’ (Jo. 4:7).

In the ancient world, a lot of business got done at the local equivalent of the water fountain. People went down to the well for a drink, and conversation flowed along with the water. The more things change, the more they stay the same. People love to “shoot the breeze” wherever they are; and business still gets done over coffee, and in the break room. The seemingly casual conversations that happen before and after the meeting can turn out to be the truly significant ones. As we know, there’s the sermon, the authoritative word that is spoken, and then there’s the dialogue that happens at the church door. The last might be as consequential as the first.

Our Gospel records a similar encounter and conversation between Jesus and a Samaritan woman in Sychar. It starts off at the well with what seems like Jesus’ simple request for a drink of water, but it quickly becomes something more. Jesus says to her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water” (Jo, 4:10). It’s an unusual thing for a rabbi, a holy man, to talk to an unknown Samaritan woman, so something’s up.

Some significant conversations like this have taken place at a similar venue in the past. In Genesis, the well is where Abraham’s servant meets Rebekah, who ends up becoming the wife of his master’s son Isaac. The servant has gone in search of a suitable spouse, and this is his prayer: “O Lord, God of my master Abraham, please grant me success today and show steadfast love to my master Abraham… Let the girl to whom I shall say, ‘Please offer your jar that I may drink, and who shall say, ‘Drink…’ – let her be the one whom you have appointed for your servant Isaac” (Gen. 24:12, 14). It’s also the place where, years later, Isaac and Rebekah’s son Jacob met Rachel, who became his wife. The future of God’s chosen people, you might say, was determined at the ancient eastside equivalent of Starbuck’s.

Here’s where the contrast between Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman, and the conversations in Genesis, becomes acute. In Genesis, the two stories of Rebekah and Rachel are accounts of coming together, of wedded bliss. It’s in this context that Abraham’s servant makes the first ever mention of God’s steadfast love: his hesed, his covenant loyalty, God’s lovingkindness toward the family of God. We can hear the wedding bells; and if the way ahead is not completely smooth for these couples, we know God’s hand is at work.

By contrast, Jesus’ conversation with the Samaritan woman quickly moves in the other direction. At this water fountain, we discover that the woman has no husband; in fact, she’s had five husbands, and the man she is with now is not her husband. There’s obviously a big story here, most of which we don’t know; but which Jesus, who knows everything (Jo. 21:17), certainly does know.

Whatever else is going on in this story, there must be heartbreak: death or divorce, or both, and certainly grave disappointment. Also wonder at God’s presence and power: “He told me everything I have ever done” (Jo. 4:39), the woman says.

She offers her testimony, and many believe. The conversation begun at the well turns out to be very consequential. Though we don’t know the rest of the story (very true to life!), the woman’s life was never the same. God’s steadfast love isn’t mentioned in our Gospel, but God’s lovingkindness personified is placed right at the center of the story, in the person of Jesus Christ.

“It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Savior of the world” (Jo. 4:42). That’s what the people of Sychar say when they hear the woman’s testimony. Jesus Christ is the Savior of the world: he can heal our deepest wounds, and bring life out of death.

Repentance is a part of the formula; the chance to acknowledge the evil we have done or that in turn we have endured. We have our own moments at the well; our own encounter with the water that becomes a living fountain within us. It can wipe away every tear and drown every sorrow. It can cleanse us from our sins. Today, we can make our own the words of belief, as we say the Creed and come to the altar rail. Lent is our invitation to look within, and to turn to God.

  • The Rt. Rev’d John Bauerschmidt, Bishop of Tennessee