Mirrors

Walter Wangerin, the noted author once wrote, “In mirrors I see myself. But in mirrors made of glass and silver I never see the whole of myself. I see the me I want to see, and I ignore the rest. Mirrors that hide nothing hurt me. They reveal an ugliness I’d rather deny… Avoid these mirror of veracity!”[1] Perhaps you have no trouble seeing the mirrors that do not hold back the truth: A friend who cuts through the small talk to say how you have hurt him; a spouse who does not obscure how you have let her down; or even strangers who show you the painful truth when they do not hold their tongues as you discount their very existence. “Can’t I just ignore the honest mirrors that cause me to see my flawed, authentic self?” Not if you are going to follow in the way that Jesus leads.

Last week the Gospel lesson revealed the story of Nicodemus night-time wanderings. The trained religious leader sought answers from the upstart teacher. As the Pharisee pressed for them he only heard literal responses. In the dimly lit encounter, the teacher of Israel struggled to receive the light Jesus shone. At least in that moment all Nicodemus could say was, “How can these things be?” He had a hard time looking in the mirror.

Today, we heard about a woman who approached Jesus in broad daylight. She sought sustenance from an old well. At first, in the murky, stagnant water she too only saw and heard literal words Jesus spoke, for he had no bucket. How could he promise living waters? But, her thirst persisted, as she kept wondering what was in the reflection.

In every way she was the opposite of Jesus’ last conversational partner. She was an outsider of the Faith being a despised Samaritan. She was a she and not a he. She had no power, privilege, or education of which we know. She had no status as an unmarried woman. Even more, she had been married many times before. Perhaps this is why she came in the middle of the day to the well instead of during the rush of early morning or late afternoon. She must have felt shame. However, as Jesus reflected these truths back to her, she did not hide from any one of them. She did not turn back, nor did it take days or weeks or months for the truth to dawn upon her like it would for Nicodemus. Instead, she continued to gaze into the ultimate mirror where the truth was reflected, even if her every scar would be revealed.

Bare and exposed she was not embarrassed, instead she was enlivened.

As she dug deeper into the conversation the living water began to gush and spring and flow from everywhere. No longer did she feel like she was someone defined by her mistakes. No, instead she was being born of the spirit and of the truth, as she was baptized by the source of living water. She left her jar at the well—a sign that literal water no longer could satisfy her thirst. As she left she knew that this mirror had shown her who she truly was. Reborn she went to her people to ask them a question, which sounded just like Nicodemus’ words and yet, they were not the same—to be honest neither was she Jesus had changed everything in this encounter. She wondered aloud, “He cannot be the Messiah, can he?”

Samaritans only held up the first five books of the Torah as their Holy Scripture. Without the prophets they would not have been looking for the coming of the Christ. Somehow the woman’s question piqued the peoples’ interest in the Messiah enough that they came and looked for reality. Upon reflecting they discovered the truth and pronounced something that no one else would say throughout all of John’s Gospel account, “This is truly the Savior of the world.”

Nicodemus had heard that God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have everlasting life, and this unnamed evangelist had been the one to share this Good News so that part of the world would know this love. She had no business being a herald of Good News. After multiple marriages, public scorn, pain, and isolation she was unfit for this work, but an unquenchable thirstiness lead her to hiding in broad daylight at a familiar place, the well of her ancestor Jacob. What she discovered there is the same thing we hear in today’s collect, “We have no power in ourselves to help ourselves.” She had no power to help herself. And yet, when we make that realization everything changes.

We may tell ourselves if I just get this accomplished, then I will be okay. If I get the promotion, then everything will be alright. If the market keeps going it’ll all be fine. If I get everything right, then people will love me. We have no power in ourselves to help ourselves. We can’t earn God’s grace. This is clearly reflected in how Jesus responded to the woman at the well. God loves us first.

Christ Jesus shines as the ultimate mirror—truly showing us who God made us to be. When he encountered the Samaritan woman she could see who she truly was—not a woman with baggage, not a series of scandals, not just a descendent of Jacob, but a beloved worshipper filled with God’s spirit and truth. Christ makes our real selves known to us too! Although we often have trouble looking into those mirrors. Christ casts truth telling reflections all around us—in people who reflect our flawed, authentic selves. As much as you may want to look away from the honest mirrors, do not. Seeing who we are can be difficult and painful, and still that is how we live in Spirit and Truth drinking the living water.

Christ Jesus shows us who we are. It is not easy to see our true selves, for we crave to see only our good parts, as we think we have power to save ourselves. Just as he invited the Samaritan woman not just to see her reflection in the living water, but also to drink and never thirst again, so he calls us to gulp deeply. He knows our whole selves, even our flaws and sins. In the face of this he reveals his true nature of always loving and always forgiving. Come and see Jesus who has shown me everything I have ever done. He cannot be the Messiah, can he?

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[1] Wangerin, Walter. "In Mirrors." In Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter, 11. Maryknoll, NY: Plough Publishing, 2008.