Going Through Samaria: Reflections on John 4.5-42

 

RCL Lent 3A [i]

8 March 2026

 

Parish of Saint Helen

Vancouver BC

 

            For more than five years I was an unofficial member of the support staff for my younger son’s rugby club and school rugby teams.  This role meant that I always kept blankets, towels, extra clothing, umbrellas and my Wellingtons in the back of my car.

            During the many car trips to and from games, the boys learned that I value the proper use of the English language.  So, to the question, ‘Can we go to McDonald’s?’, I always responded, ‘We can, but the right question is “May we?”.’  This and many other similar conversations have led my children’s friends to coin a new verb – ‘to leggett’ – which means ‘to insist on correct and accurate use of the English language’.  Just within the last year or so, one of my younger son’s friends was visiting and when, in the conversation I took a breath, he said, ‘Oh no!  He’s going to leggett!’

            It’s true.  I love language and value its careful use.  Language has the ability to explain something clearly or to deceive us deviously.  Language can heal our wounds or hurt us deeply.  Language can open windows onto the beauty and mystery of creation or can build walls to confine our imagination and limit us to the repetition of conventional certainties.

            Last week Jeffrey opened to us the grammar of the Gospel according to John.  He did so by looking carefully at the words and phrases used in the Gospel, especially those that bear more than one interpretation.  I am going to do a bit of the same today and then do something some people think should not be done in a sermon:  I am going to end with a question for each one of us to take home and ponder.

            We are probably familiar with the story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well.  It happens to be one of my favourite stories in all of the Scriptures.  Because of this story and several others in this Gospel, I once responded to the question, ‘If you could only take one Gospel with you, which one would you choose?’, I answered, ‘John’.  But, to understand this story, we need to read the verse that comes just before the first verse of today’s reading.  Before we read about Jesus arriving at the well outside the city of Sychar, the evangelist writes, “ . . . (Jesus) left Judea and started back to Galilee.  But he had to go through Samaria.” [ii]

            The thing is that Jesus did not have to go through Samaria to return north to Galilee.  There were any number of routes north that would permit him to avoid travelling through a region of Samaria.  So, we need to parse out the simple statement, ‘But he had to go . . . ‘.  As I read the thoughts of various commentators who have opinions on this passage, I finally came to agree with those who understand this simple statement to mean this:  Jesus must go to Samaria if he is going to be faithful to the One who sent him.  

            Going through Samaria has nothing to do with finding a safe or quick route home to Galilee.  Going through Samaria has everything to do with what God is seeking to accomplish in the ministry of Jesus of Nazareth.  This early part of the Gospel according to John is sometimes referred to as ‘the book of signs’ – the changing of water into wine at Cana and, in next week’s reading, the healing of a man born blind.  Jesus’ decision to travel through Samaria is another sign of who he is and what God is doing in the world through Jesus.

            What is the sign?  Jesus chooses to travel through Samaria, a region inhabited by people that the Jews considered collaborators with the Babylonian invaders six centuries earlier and who, because of intermarriage, had lost their link to genuine Jewishness.  Despite the devotion of the Samaritans to the first five books of Moses and their belief in the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, Jewish religious leaders considered Samaritan beliefs inferior at best, heretical at worst – a little bit like how some Roman Catholics feel about Anglicans.  Nothing is more fierce than a fight between close kin!

            By travelling through Samaria and then, as John tells us, spending two days in the neighbourhood teaching them, Jesus has crossed a boundary.  It becomes yet one more reason why the religious authorities in Jerusalem begin to worry about this itinerant rabbi from the north.  What are they to do with a man who is doing powerful things and dares to say, “ . . . the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem.” [iii]  What are the authorities who are anxious to preserve the centrality of the Temple in Jerusalem to Jewish identity and faith with a man who says, “But the hour is coming and is now here when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him.” [iv]  But Jesus had to go through Samaria if he was to be faithful to the One who sent him.

            Jesus compounds his disregard for boundaries when he engages not just a Samaritan but a Samaritan woman in a serious theological discussion.  I love this woman.  Each time I hear this story, I have to stop myself from laughing out loud when, in response to Jesus telling her he has living water, she says, “Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep.” [v]  She actually has a claim to the title of ‘apostle’ – ‘one who is commissioned or sent with a message’ – when she goes into the city to share her experience with her neighbours and then invites them to meet him with, “Come and see . . . “. [vi]  But Jesus had to go through Samaria if he was to be faithful to the One who sent him.

            My friends, in a world where we see new tribalism rising to the left and to the right, where respect for diversity is dismissed as weak and threatening to the privileges of a few, where must we go if we are to be faithful to God?  In a world where the algorithms of social media are designed to channel us into like-minded groupings, where must we go if we are to be faithful to our baptismal promises?  At the heart of John’s gospel is the belief that the mission entrusted by God to Jesus is entrusted to us by the Spirit:  “Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.” [vii]

            So, where are the Samarias that God is asking us, whether as a community or in our personal lives and relationships, to travel?  It’s a good thing that we have a few more weeks of Lent to ponder this question before offering our answer in the light of the Easter candle.

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[i] Exodus 17.1-7; Psalm 95; Romans 5.1-11; John 4.5-42.

 

[ii] John 4.3-4 (NRSVue).

 

[iii] John 4.21b (NRSVue).

 

[iv] John 4.23 (NRSVue).

 

[v] John 4.11 (NRSVue).

 

[vi] John 4.29 (NRSVue).

 

[vii] John 14.12-14 (NRSVue).

 

A View from the Vicar: Going Through Samaria

 

The story of the Samaritan woman and Jesus meeting at a well in Samaria among one of my 'desert island' narratives. There is so much depth to the interplay between the woman and Jesus, Jesus and the disciples, Jesus and the Samaritans who come to listen to him. Some scholars suggest that the key is in verse 4: "But he had to go through Samaria." A quick look at the map will tell us that Jesus did not have to go. But he had to go if he was to be try to his mission -- to bring eternal life not just to the Jewish community but to those who were despised and socially oppressed.

Click HERE to listen to Richard's reflections.

A View from the Vicar: Where Deep Gladness Meets Greatest Hunger

 

I have always found Abram's response to God a story that requires some unpacking. He is comfortable and wealthy, but he is ready at a moment's notice to pack everything up and obey God's call to move to a far land. Our unpacking comes as we try to understand how to distinguish a call from God from all the other voices that call to us. As I often do, I turned to Frederick Buechner for guidance.

Click HERE to watch my video.

Discerning Between Two Paths: Reflections on Good and Evil

 

RCL Lent 1A [i]

22 February 2026

 

Parish of Saint Helen’s West Point Grey

Vancouver BC

Click HERE to hear the Sermon as preached at Saint Helen's

 

            As I prepared for my final year in seminary, I hoped that I would be able to take one of Fr Griffiss’ famous final-year theology seminars.  There were several reasons for their fame.  First, Fr Griffiss was a great teacher.  Second, he always chose topics that were unusual.  And finally, the seminars were always held in his home and beer was served.

 

            In my final year Fr Griffiss chose the topic of evil.  Our first week was spent discussing what the seminar should be called.  Are we talking about the ‘problem’ of evil?  Are we talking about the ‘challenge’ of evil?  Are we talking about the ‘origin’ of evil?  We finally chose ‘the symbolism’ of evil.

 

            Now it’s important to know what a symbol is.  A symbol is a sign that draws us into the experience of something deeper than the sign itself.  For example, if one of us were to knock down a stop sign, there would be consequences, but few feathers would be ruffled in the wider community.  But, on the other hand, if one of us were to bring out a Canadian flag and either burn it or throw it on the ground to be trodden upon, then more than a few feathers would be ruffled.  A stop sign is just a sign, but a flag is a symbol.

 

            From the first moment that human beings became capable of distinguishing between one thing as good and another as evil, we have wondered how to grow in our ability to discern good from evil.  Those of us who are people of religious faith have questioned why, if the universe is the creation of a loving God, evil exists at all.  It is this question that our first reading today tries to answer.

 

            In the Genesis narrative of creation, all that God creates is good.  Human beings are created to tend the garden of creation and to enjoy its bounty.  Only one thing is to be kept from our reach – the knowledge of good and evil.  But, for reasons we do not know, God has placed a tree with this knowledge in the centre of the garden.  Yet one of God’s creatures, the serpent, knows what is hanging on that tree and, for reasons that also remain mysterious, the serpent is prepared to subvert God’s purposes by seducing the two humans into eating that fruit.  And the rest, as we say, is history.  

 

To be able to discern what is good and what is evil is to become more God-like in being life-giving or being life-denying.  But knowing how to discern between what is good and what is evil is acknowledge that we have the power to choose.  We are not simply pawns on a chessboard subject to the will of unknown players.  Why God would allow creatures such as ourselves to have such power remains an endless topic of speculation.  But, in the end, it is a power we have and a power that we must learn how to wield.  Both in the Scriptures and in Christian writings, this power is sometimes described as choosing between two paths.

 

When I think about discerning how to be more confident in choosing the good path, the path that is life-giving, I find myself returning to a verse from the prophet Micah where this precise question is asked and the prophet, speaking for God, responds:  “[The Lord] He has told you, O mortal, what is good, and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?” [ii]  

 

Do justice and we will walk on the good path.  Defining justice is not easy and often can descend into partisan debates.  But I find a good working definition in one of our baptismal commitments:  “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?” [iii]  When we respect the dignity of every human being, victim and perpetrator, friend and foe, family and stranger, we are on the path of justice.  For example, no one can deny the tragedy of the shootings in Tumbler Ridge, and we join with people throughout this country and the world who mourn and pray for the victims and their families and friends.  But justice demands that we also consider the perpetrator and ask questions about how she and perhaps others in remote communities throughout our province and country do not have access to the mental health supports that might prevent such violence from become an outlet to their inner turmoil.

 

Love kindness and we will walk on the good path.  Once again, I find some guidance in the baptismal covenant: “Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbour as yourself?” [iv]  In the Hebrew of Micah, the word used is love chesed.  Chesed can be translated in many ways, one of which is ‘steadfast love’ or ‘never-failing love’.  Chesed is the love God shows to us, a commitment to the long haul, we might say, not just a convenient act of generosity when it suits us.  In his letter to the Christians in Philippi, one of my favourite New Testament texts, Paul gives what I think is a good description of ‘loving kindness’:

 

If, then, there is any comfort in Christ, any consolation from love, any partnership in the Spirit, any tender affection and sympathy, make my joy complete:  be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind.  Do nothing from selfish ambition or empty conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.  Let each of you look not to your own interests but to the interests of others. [v]

 

            When Jeffrey was ordained to the diaconate, the bishop told him, “At all times, our life and teaching are to show Christ’s people that in serving the helpless they are serving Christ himself.” [vi]  What was said to Jeffrey was also said to all of us, so that we might walk the good path.

 

            Walk humbly with God and we will walk on the good path.  Once again, the baptismal covenant calls us in this way:  “Will you persevere in resisting evil and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?” [vii]  Whenever we see arrogance and self-interest claim precedence over humility and the common good, we can be sure that we are seeing the road signs to the evil path.  When Paul in his letter to the Galatians speaks about the fruits of the Spirit, he might as easily be describing the signs of humility:

 

By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. . . . If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, competing against one another, envying one another. [viii]

 

When we see these things, when we experience these things in ourselves, we are walking on the good path.

 

            Earlier this week a quotation from Stuart McLean, the Canadian storyteller, came across my Facebook feed.  His words capture, in my view, the good news of choosing the way of life rather than the way of death, the Christ-like path rather than the counterfeit path often put before us in our daily lives.  I give Stuart the final say.

 

It is not said enough.  So, I’ll say it again:  The world is a good place full of good people.  And when we act out of that, when we act out of hope and optimism, and faith in our fellow human, we act out of our best selves.  And we are capable of doing great things, and of contributing to the greater good.  Hope and optimism are not synonymous with naivety.  We should be looking to the future with flinty and steely eyes, for sure, but they should be wide open with hope, not squinting in fear. [ix] 

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[i] Genesis 2.15-17, 3.1-7; Psalm 32; Romans 5.12-19; Matthew 4.1-11.

 

[ii] Micah 6.8 (NRSVue).

 

[iii] The Book of Alternative Services (1985), 159.

 

[iv] The Book of Alternative Services (1985), 159.

 

[v] Philippians 2.1-4 (NRSVue).

 

[vi] The Book of Alternative Services (1985), 655.

 

[vii] The Book of Alternative Services (1985), 159.

 

[viii] Galatians 5.22, 25-26.

 

[ix] Stuart McLean, The Vinyl Café Notebooks as quoted at https://thecaptivereader.com/2011/05/24/the-vinyl-cafe-notebooks-stuart-mclean and accessed on 21 February 2026.

 

A View from the Vicar: Reflections on Good and Evil

From the first moments of our self-awareness, human beings have wrestled with good and evil. We have sometimes blamed external forces for compelling us to choose evil rather than good. While it is true that external forces do try to compel us, seduce us, deceive us into choosing evil over good, it is also true that we have the power to choose, a power rooted in our being created in the image of God. As Lent begins, we are reminded that our choices do matter and that we are called to do all within our power to ensure that all God's children are free to choose the good by removing any obstacle to that freedom.

Click HERE to watch Richard's video.

Becoming Who We Are: Reflections on the Transfiguration

 

 

Last Sunday after Epiphany A [i]

15 February 2026

 

Saint Helen’s Anglican Church

Vancouver BC

Click HERE to listen to the Sermon as Preached at the 10.00 Eucharist.

 

         When my children were in preschool and the early grades of elementary school, one of my favourite class activities involved butterflies.  In the spring the children would anxiously await the arrival of boxes of caterpillars by preparing the terrariums in their school for their new inhabitants.  Then the caterpillars would arrive and be placed in the terrariums.  Each day the children would make observations and take notes on the caterpillar’s activities. 

         Then would come the day when the caterpillars began the next stage in their life’s journey by weaving their cocoons and going into a period of hibernation.  The children would watch each day for the signs that this hibernation was coming to an end.  I can still remember when my children would come home to tell Paula and me excitedly, ‘They’re beginning to wriggle!’  This was the sure sign of the promise of butterflies soon emerging.  Once they emerged and were ready for the world, the children and their teachers would gather outside, open the terrariums and let the butterflies fly free.  It was always a day filled with both sadness but wonder.

         The life-cycles of butterflies and other members of the insect world always fascinate me.  It’s not easy to square a butterfly’s final appearance with the caterpillar and its cocoon.  But what we cannot deny is that the essence of what it means to be a butterfly is contained within the caterpillar.  On the one hand, we say that they change.  But on the other hand, we have to acknowledge that every caterpillar is, even its slinkiness, is destined to fly into the sky.  The caterpillar is and is not the end product of its life-cycle.

         There is a theological word for this:  Transfiguration.  Transfigurations are different than transformations.  Transformations are what the ancient alchemists attempted by trying to change base metals into precious metals.  No matter how hard you try, iron cannot become gold – at least with the scientific and technological knowledge we currently have.  But iron has the potential to become steel.  It can be transfigured to become harder or more flexible or durable.  It’s not always an easy process, but iron will reveal its potential in the hands of the right person.

         When Peter, James and John accompanied Jesus to the top of the mountain, they were travelling with their rabbi, their teacher who had seized their imaginations and opened their hearts to the meaning of the Law and the Prophets.  As they climbed the mountain, they were not expecting what would soon happen.  After all, Jesus frequently found quiet places where he could pray.  But this time would be different.  The Jesus with whom they climbed the mountain was revealed to be ‘more than (they) could ask or imagine.’

         The transfiguration of Jesus is not about any change in Jesus’ identity.  It is about seeing Jesus in his fundamental identity as the Beloved of God, the Logos through whom creation owes its own identity.  Whatever clouded the perception of Peter, James and John was lifted, and they could now clearly see that they were in the presence of God embodied in this Jesus from Nazareth.

         Some would say that Peter, James and John, and eventually, the rest of the Twelve, were transformed by this experience and by the experience of the resurrection.  But let me say to you that I believe that they – and we – were and are transfigured by our experience of the transfigured and risen Jesus.  Through our relationship with Jesus, the Holy Spirit empowers us to become who we truly are.  This is not an overnight process; it is a lifetime filled with what one scholar of liturgy calls baptismal moments filled with baptismal meanings. [ii]  Each time we renew our baptismal covenant by confessing our faith in the holy and undivided Trinity and by making commitments that give flesh and blood to that faith, we are participating in the process of transformation.

         I mentioned last week my frustration during a radio interview I gave years ago on CBC Radio One.  My frustration was that the host could not or would not understand my emphasis on Lent as a time for transfiguration rather than a trivial effort to please God by insignificant actions.  As a Christian community we take transfiguration so seriously that we devote not just the forty days of Lent but the fifty days of Easter as seasons of preparation and celebration of God’s work of transfiguration in our personal and communal lives and relationships.

         One of the ways that we can be more active participants in the transfiguration that God is so eager to accomplish in our lives is by engaging in some self-reflection.  Here are a few questions I invite you to consider as we enter into Lent:

·      Who am I when I am most fully and honestly with God?

·      How do I pray?

·      How have I grown in relationship with God through worship in community?

·      What seems to me to be the most urgent work God is trying to do in the world?

·      What is my part in that work?

·      What strengths do I bring to that work? [iii]

And, after spending some time with these questions, then ask this question:  What is preventing me from fulfilling my part in God’s urgent work?  How I answer that question shapes what I am being called to do this Lent, or at least to begin to do this Lent, as part of my vocation to become more fully who I am and to participate more fully in God’s urgent work of justice, steadfast love and humility.

         The good news is that you and I have been hard-wired to become more Christ-like.  We have, in our baptism, been made partners with God in the on-going work of re-creation, reconciliation and renewal.  It’s hard work that requires long-term thinking and commitment – but it is who we are and who we are to become.  No doubt we feel like slinky caterpillars more often than not in our lives, but just like Peter, James and John, just like the rest of the early disciples of Jesus, just like millions over the centuries, just like you and me, there is a butterfly waiting to be set free to proclaim the glory of God and the promise of fullness of life.

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[i] Exodus 24.12-18; Psalm 99; 2 Peter 1.16-21; Matthew 17.1-9.

 

[ii] Daniel B. Stevick, Baptismal Moments:  Baptismal Meanings (New York, NY:  The Church Hymnal Corporation, 1987).

 

[iii] Adapted from Kathleen Henderson Staudt, “ ‘Annunciations in Most Lives’:  Vocational Discernment and the Work of the Church”, Sewanee Theological Review 43:2 (Easter 2000), 140-141.

A View from the Vicar: The Transfiguration

On the mountain Jesus was transfigured, a revelation of his true identity as the Beloved, the Logos, the Son of God. We celebrate this on the Sunday before the beginning of Lent as an invitation for us to become who we truly are and to let Lent be a time of our own transfiguration.

Click HERE to listen to Richard's reflections on Christ's transfiguration and ours.