Well, another week of changing shapes and shifting alliances in the world of politics. We’re ready to begin the formal process of leaving the EU; some folk are rejoicing, while others are horrified and feel disenfranchised and ignored. As expected, the SNP have called for a new referendum on independence; as expected, Mrs May has said no. I doubt there’s much stomach for indyref2 among the Scottish electorate, but maybe the SNP does have a point: the ground has changed. Meanwhile Sinn Fein’s new leader is calling for a new vote on the unification of Ireland, though I presume someone has to form a government in Stormost first. Is the break-up of what we hoped might remain a United Kingdom just round the corner? And will right-wing popularism start winning polls in Europe?
Immigration has been the fuel for much of this. It’s a growing cause of concern across much of the world, and certainly has been here in the UK. It was probably the decisive factor in the Brexit vote - certainly Mr Farage thinks so. Alongside that, there are growing ethnic and cultural tensions in most societies, and they’re being exploited in some places of power, by the current resident of the White House, for one. Wherever different peoples dwell in the same land there’ll be tensions I suppose, especially when language, skin colour or religious faith divide them. Many of the minority peoples of our world experience persecution: I can think of the small Hindu and Christian minorities in Pakistan, the tribal Karen people in Burma who even under the new democracy still seem to get a raw deal, Coptic Christians in Egypt, Muslims in the Philippines, Christians in Indonesia. Just a few from a very long list.
Religion was a big factor in the simmering tensions that existed between Samaritans and Jews at the time of Jesus. They were close neighbours who worshipped the same God and claimed Abraham as their father. But they worshipped in different ways and different places. They wouldn’t even share the same drinking vessels. The boundaries between them were very real, and taken very seriously. But in today's long gospel reading we see Jesus cross that line.
In fact he crossed more than the line of race and religion; his disciples would have been shocked to see him talking to a woman, alone and unchaperoned, even before they realised that she was a Samaritan. And I imagine that if they'd known about her many marriages and her unconventional household they'd have been appalled at that too.
The traditional collect set for today speaks about 'the way of the cross'. (I’ll use it as part of our intercessions.) The Way of the Cross, the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem traces the traditional route of the journey of Christ through the streets and the jeering crowds to Calvary. But we can think of Jesus walking the way of the cross throughout his ministry - an unsafe and unconventional journey on which he challenged the accepted status quo. He didn't teach in a safe and conventional way. He didn’t teach like rabbis were supposed to teach; and he made time for the sort of people no good rabbi would even look at, let alone teach.
In doing this he faced risk: on his journey, the risk of being misunderstood, rejected, and held in disrepute. And at the end of the road the risk of the cross. But only when boundaries are crossed and barriers forced open can things change for the better. Only when prejudices are challenged can things change for the better. Good won’t triumph over evil until people expose that evil, speak against it, take action to prevent the damage and heal the wounds, reach out to those who are denied justice. But too often too many of us simply let things be.
It can be uncomfortable to open yourself to others, to relate to, speak to, listen to those whose cultural choices, beliefs and ways of living are different from your own, maybe challenge your own; but Jesus shows us the way of the cross, which is inescapably inclusive. Human fear, ignorance and self-interest put up barriers, but Jesus walking the way of the cross breaks them down. The way of the cross exalts our shared humanity over the barriers of race or culture.
But of course we’re not even united as Christians, so we’ve got a distance to go I guess. Christ’s call to serve him, sealed in the baptism we share and the supper he gives, demands unity as the basis for our Gospel mission; but historically we have let differences of order and interpretation and theology - and issues of politics and power - break his Church apart.
“Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross, may find it to be none other than the way of life and peace.” Words from today's collect. Jesus offered the woman by the well living water, and she was keen to have this special water, because naively she thought it might save her time and effort, she wouldn’t have to go traipsing off to the well with her bucket. St John's Gospel’s full of people who interpret spiritual gifts in very worldly ways.
Jesus didn’t offer real water, but he does promise real life and real peace. The woman hoped for an easier life. What Jesus offers may n fact make our lives harder in this world: his way is the way of sacrifice, which means letting go of things we hold dear, letting go of the entrenched positions and set opinions that make us who we think we are. To go with Jesus we have to take up a cross, we have to take the road of risk and service. But this is the way to life and godly peace: to stay where we’re comfy is to miss out on that.
Jesus told the Samaritan woman that his people, the Jews, worshipped with understanding, while her people “worship what you do not know.” But true worshippers, Samaritan or Jew or whatever, are those who worship in spirit and in truth. God is spirit and those who worship him must worship in spirit and in truth. I’ve always been wary of the rules and liturgies and doctrinal formulations of organised religion, for God is more than mere religion. God is love, and God is found by those who seek him in love. And true religion is more than joining a club: it’s about relationship - a living, loving relationship with God: relationship that leads us into, and requires from us, a living, loving relationship with one another.
For Jesus the Jew, the Samaritan woman had got it wrong (as he told her). She worshipped what she didn’t know. But he still made time for her: she was still worth speaking to, and he still had a message for her of hope and love and acceptance. Those who we think have got it wrong are still worth a hearing, for they are sisters and brothers within the love of God. And when someone else gets something wrong, don’t assume that therefore you yourself have got things right, or at least, not completely. We’ve always more to learn, further to travel. Mission begins with listening, and requires humility. We can’t give unless we’re also open to receive, we can’t teach unless we’re also open to learn.
So I’m sad when I see religion being either defensive or triumphal, and I’m sad when I see religious people wanting to stay safely behind high walls that they themselves have built. For that’s not the faith Jesus calls us to in today’s Gospel; that’s not the faith he himself modelled in this encounter with the Samaritan woman. His is a faith to break walls down, to open ways to dialogue, his is a faith that is provocative, adventurous, and ready to be involved, actively engaged with people where they hurt, where they have needs, where they have questions, and even where they make demands.
The way of the cross requires that we take risks and engage with the other, with the person who is different from us. It requires that we do mission, and that we share what we have. But while we certainly have something to teach and to share, to do it well we need also the humility that allows us to listen and to learn. Mission is effective when those who do it are themselves open to change and challenge. To walk the way of the cross is to walk as a vulnerable pilgrim. But also to walk with confidence: for in Christ we have found the way of life, which he offers as a blessing for all to share.
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