Water for Drinking
From Wellington Cathedral of St Paul
Water for drinking: 27th March 2011: am: The Very Revd Frank Nelson
- Psalm 95
- Exodus 17: 1 - 7
- Romans 5: 1 - 11
- John 4: 5 - 42
“Water for drinking. At least 3 litres per person, per day.” http://www.getthru.govt.nz
This is the stark message on the official government website listing essential things we should all have in our emergency kits at home and at work. As we have seen over the past few weeks, when both earthquake and tsunami have struck, there can be both too much and too little water. Broken water pipes, converted milk tankers, liquefaction and the terrifying power of the tsunami wave, have all come into our living rooms via the television news. Where we are so used to turning on the tap and expecting fresh potable water to flow, we forget that for millions and millions of people in today’s world, the task of providing water for the family needs is an onerous, time-consuming and often dangerous one.
As we ponder on today’s Gospel reading, one of those special stories which are found only in John’s Gospel, I offer you the thoughts of Bishop Martin Warner, a regular contributor to the Church Times (CT 25th March 2011) and Bishop of Whitby in England.
THEY ought to know how to treat women with respect in Axum, the oldest inhabited city in what is today Ethiopia.
Local tradition says that Axum was the kingdom from which the Queen of Sheba travelled to visit King Solomon. We don’t know the name of the Queen of Sheba for certain. But we do know that the kingdom to the north of Axum was ruled by warrior women whose royal title was Candace. It was the eunuch treasurer of one of these rulers whom Philip met and baptised, as is told in the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 8.26-38).
One final detail about Axum connects us with the Gospel reading and the Church’s mission today. On the wall above an ancient well in the church of St Mary of Zion is a 13th-century fresco that depicts the encounter between Jesus and the woman of Samaria.
We see a smiling Jesus, who holds out his hand in blessing over the woman. She seems to be content to draw water for him, lacking any sign of the sharp tongue that we hear in the Gospel narrative. Next to these two figures is the paralytic carrying his bed, suggesting that he has already been revitalised by the water of life that Jesus gives.
In this part of the world, water is readily understood as a symbol of life. East Africa has been experiencing significant droughts, resulting in famine, disease, migration, and death. The significance of a well is, therefore, profound. The sense that it would be an obvious location in which to encounter God is exemplified by the inclusion of a well in the church of St Mary of Zion.
Water is more than symbolic here. It is the currency of life in a land where more than 40 per cent of the population of 74 million lives in poverty. Orthodox, Roman Catholic, and Anglican relief agencies are all engaged in partnerships that seek to bring these people hope and dignity.
Perhaps the first observation to make is that the differences between Christians and Muslims are secondary to the humanitarian need. In Adigrat, 50 miles from Axum, the Orthodox Muslim Catholic Association tackles HIV and AIDS. Similarly, the development of projects to provide water benefits Christian and Muslim communities alike.
This capacity to see beyond inherited differences resonates with the opening of today’s Gospel. The woman at the well is astonished that Jesus should ask her for a drink. The animosity between Jews and Samaritans was well known, its origins lost in a distant memory.
But the encounter between Jesus and the Samaritan woman embraces more than her racial identity; it also touches her status as a woman. We do not know the details of this woman’s life, or what kind of abuse might have led to her being traded between men in a series of marriages. No matter what her history, the encounter she has with Jesus is one from which faith and the restoration of dignity emerges.
By the end of the story, this woman has become an evangelist who brings others to Jesus and enables them also to find faith: “we have heard for ourselves and know that this is truly the Saviour of the world” (John 4.42 NRSV). This capacity in her suggests a new integration into the community of Sychar, in contrast to the opening image of the solitary woman drawing water in the heat of midday, when nobody else is at the well.
The social dimension to how water is supplied is the important point here. The implication from John’s story suggests that the woman comes to the well alone in order to avoid a potentially damaging encounter with others. The well is a dangerous place for her. Contemporary life in Ethiopia tells a similar story.
The Ethiopian Orthodox Church Development and Inter-Church Aid Commission is a partner of Christian Aid in a project to supply water that is clean and safe. Safe? The danger is told with terrible simplicity.
In Ethiopia, as in many other places, it has traditionally been the task of young women to collect water, sometimes involving a long journey. An older Ethiopian woman, Nunu Tesfaye, explains the danger: “Most of the time, it was younger girls collecting water who would be raped; they were afraid to go, but their family would force them.” In some cases they were abducted, because a young woman has cash value.
The water that Jesus offers brings with it a new quality of life. When the woman in today’s Gospel says, “Sir, give me this water,” she speaks on behalf of all humanity. But there is particular urgency in her expression of the needs of women — a need for freedom to govern her own life and to care for her family. This empowerment is a vital part of the global strategy for combating disease and poverty.
Today’s Gospel also outlines the fruit of this empowerment. The human dignity that is restored by the work of relief agencies in places such as Ethiopia lays the foundation for women, children, and men to worship. The English word we use for worship is liturgy; in Greek, it means “public work”. The public work of relief agencies is preparation for the divine liturgy in which we fully realise the material dignity of human identity, where spirit and truth become the conduit of our knowledge of God.
So let the living water flow, and let all the people rejoice.
